While everybodyâs busy following the European Football Championship, I unflaggingly dedicate my precious time to scientific research in the burgeoning field of Spaghetti Western studies. Here are some (rambling) thoughts on Una colt in pugno al diavolo.
Already its opening sequence insults the viewersâ temporal and spatial understanding of moving pictures (shaped by cinematic conventions, of course). A wagon train is rolling through a barren desert landscape, from the left side of the frame to the right. The first cut directs the viewersâ attention up a cliff, from which seven armed riders look down. According to conventional camera movement, positioning, and cutting, the riders would watch the wagons from the trekâs left side. The wagons turn around, reverse direction, and now are moving from the frameâs right side to its left. Where are the armed riders, left or right? Next cut: the wagons are still moving from right to left. Cut: a look down at the trek from the viewpoint of the presumptive bandits; it moves from the right side to the left side, and the armed riders are again to its left side. Somethingâs wrong: either the first shot of the bandits was spatially (or temporally) misplaced, or they have changed their position and moved from one side of the âcanyonâ to the other. The camera zooms in on the mounted bandits: they still are clearly on top of a cliff, the only background blue sky.
The bandits start firing but â irritatingly â straight, not down, as would be expected.
Next cut: where are they now? How did they get down so fast?
Cut to close-ups of the banditsâ revolvers: verdure in the back.
âSculpting out of timeâ and just one of many instances of bad editing in Una colt in pugno al diavolo. The next one occurs right after the title sequence: again, the temporal and spatial coherence of consecutive shots is neglected, as the sheriff leaves his room and presumably âzapsâ down the main street to a horse with a dying rider on its back. Even an approaching man and woman in the background are out of time and space from cut to cut.
Mounted across the main street, a huge banner greets viewers and visitors: âWelcome to Las Vegas.â Why did the makers of Una colt ⌠choose this town? Las Vegas was founded as a city in 1905. At the time of the filmâs temporal setting, it wasnât much more than an abandoned fort. Nevada gained statehood at the end of the Civil War, during which it was mainly pro-Union. Sergio Bergonzelli has Confederate troops stationed in Nevada. In their first scene, the commanding officers â who wear uniforms that look like leftovers from a WW I movie â study a map showing âFederal Land Grants Made to the Railroadsâ and railroad lines completed years after the movieâs time frame.
âDeath Valley he called it. Well, I suppose one nameâs as good as another.â Again, a strange decision by the movieâs makers: Death Valleyâs dislocation from California to Utah. Of course, Westerns, and in particular Italian Westerns, shouldnât be judged in terms of historical or geographical verisimilitude. Nevertheless, a certain degree of semblance or plausibility is required to obtain the viewersâ willingness to involve themselves into a (conventional mainstream) movieâs narrative (cf. Coleridgeâs suspension of disbelief).
I tried to like Una colt ⌠but failed. I think its cinematic craftsmanship leaves too much to be desired to take the film seriously. It suffers from sloppy editing, careless production design and ill-founded historical and geographical setting; not to mention thespian ineptitude, ranging from clumsiness (Bob Henry, Lucretia Love) to histrionics (George Wang, Marisa Solinas).