WARNING - OF COURSE THIS RANT [size=14pt]WILL[/size] CONTAIN SPOILERS!
Well the best I can say is it starts well with a beautiful shot of real cacti (and you know I love my cacti) - and ends on a spaghettiesque moody and melancholic note, with a mangy dog sniffing about a deserted street as our heroine rides off into a better western.
To start us off – there’s a mad overweight laughing drug-addled Mexi-general called Cocaine (in the Fernando Sancho mould) who blows some Frenchies to bits with dynamite to commence our pleasant evening’s spaghetti proceedings, and whos left-over gallic bits are crossed by a passing stagecoach bearing Nicholetta Machiavelli who’s baring her cleavage. Sounds good!? Well you’d better stop here… ‘cos I’m about to shoot Garter’s colt, and most else in this film, down in shit.
But – what about if I add into the opening equation that the said General got his habit off his drug-addicted horse(!) And we’ve got a talking parrot in the menagerie belonging to a handsome Mexi-spy. And that Claudio Camaso turns up as a psychotic Mexi-bandit kitted out in all hippy-stylee inspired flares - and with ginger hair - and looks even more deranged than ever. And that he enjoys punching a Frenchman half a dozen times in the face with a horseshoe knuckleduster? Still sounds good…? I gotta say at this point it still sounds like it still has the potential to be fuckin’ great!
But – what if punched-faced-Frenchie shrugs off most of these brain-busting punches and carries on scrapping regardless? And what if the smart-arse parrot drops not just quirky lines - but micky finns into the mexi-jailers beer, and even later will be helping smouldering love-hunk Carlos cheat at cards by squawking the card numbers of his opponent – who just happens to be our lust-interest Miss Cleavage herself?
Ok – we’ve seen this type of spoofoonery in many a good spag. George Hilton and Charles Southwood can pull of this sort of comedic nonsense in such wonders as Trade your Pistols for a Coffin ,and in that one with the sewing-machine gun, and yet those elements don’t ruin what are otherwise tight, entertaining westerns. But in this, to counter the cheating parrot, Miss Decolletage has her own secret weapon – it couldn’t be a midget(!) pretending to be her son(?) in a wicker pram placed behind Carlos’ full-house and trousers could it? :o
Unfortunately - this film gets much, MUCH worse than this. ???
In the unholy madness that precedes this wackiness, our punched-Frenchie has been nursed/kissed back to health by pedo-dream Rosy (Marisa Solinas) – all pigtails and badly drawn-on freckles – but also with a (more adult) Nicholetta-competing cleavage. She has fallen for the sleeping Frenchie, but later likes to scream/faint/swoon for her childhood rape-interest who goes by the name of Red (Camaso) whilst he yet again tries to dispose of his European rival by repeating the previous beating. He adds to this drama some ineffectual shooting, swordplay and attempted immolation – and all whilst he is still attempting to rape our screaming yet sometimes, and somewhat (dubiously), compliant Rosy.
And where does this truelly farcical misogynistic snog-nonsense take place – could it possibly be in a cliched haystack… of course - but on a deserted beach!! Are there misguided artistic directional delusions of Fellini at work here. We can only wonder? ???
All these delusions and allusions that I have referred to – and yet still I have more spit and spite left – so I apologise now for my obviously one-sided and blinkered opinions and implore you to read no further, but to watch this film for yourselves and tell the truth. For everybody’s sake now I’ll compress my poisonous thoughts on this travesty to a few vignettes of what’s left to suffer and try to find some good amongst the bad and ugly.
There are the unusual seascapes (of Sardinia), and the famous spaghetti wolf tape-loop appears at one point to add to the atmospheric night-timyness. And there are the un-ugly and previously documented bathing shots of Nicholetta to lure, and the lingering close-ups of her caressing her cleavage and lower abdomen. Then there’s the cliche of a man buried up to his head in sand to remind us this is a spaghetti… and then we’ll have some more cleavage, and then perhaps a bit more action… but followed by a bit more cleavage.
And then there’s probably a little bit more cleavage to make up for a lack of action.
BUT - wonders - in this up til now shallow not quite bare-a-tit-fest - there’s a welcome change of scene and mood and we are transported to Red’s hideout where Nicholetta takes a well-earned break from baring skin for her art… and instead we can witness some writhing buttock-fondling semi-dressed mexi-peasant girl who’ll do it instead.
Obviously as bored as I am with the cleavage-popping sex-interest in this otherwise pointless spaghetti outing, Nicholetta turns up to campaign for her newly found standards and feminist sensibilities against these sexist shenanigans, and puts a stop to somebody equally gorgeous stealing the limelight. In fact, she arrives fully shirted - and in this case does NOT attempt to barely contain her love-puppies from popping out. But unfortunately for Red, he hasn’t realised this dramatic turnabout of events, and thinking he’s still in the earlier version of the film he starts to lick where her cleavage would previously have been on show.
But it’s all a trick! He hasn’t, and we can’t have failed to, noticed her camel-toe-skintight pants, and for this sin he gets bottled about the bonce. Then Garter Colt rescues somebody I no longer care about and steals the rifles and gold(?) and we have some vain attempt to get back to some sort of plot.
Still in no-cleavage mode - so we still know dramatic is where we are aiming at - Garter Colt/Lulu/Nicholetta shags what’s his name (who’s now of course doomed to cop it) and decides to give up wandering, philandering, gambling and hanging out with dwarfs, to lay in bed by loverboy’s side forever… whilst everybody else prepares to throw down their life to stop Red from massacring all the townspeople (unfortunately he’s since forgotten that they’ve got all the guns now!)
Now, I’d like to say the big epic final big shootout was worth the wait…. BUT – unfortunately I got to watch (unlike Phil) the English-subbed version that does exist. The dialogue at one point went along these lines*… one of the useless (but pretty) twins and scantilly-clad barroom dancers (I forgot to mention them) hands a fellah her lipstick (in the midst of battle) instead of bullets. “But this is a lipstick” he says (she smiles) “Oh well, let’s have a snog instead” [size=8pt](*this might not be the exact dialogue)[/size]. Luckily for him, the newly-attired rifle boys in town win the battle (well, they’ve got the rifles after all)… and Red and his one remaing mate retreat/run away.
So - all we need now is to tie up the loose ends… so hows about the escaping Red stops escaping to (please don’t read this)… place Freckles on a swing, built over a lime-pit, with a real child (not a midget), in a noose on her shoulders, whilst he rummages up her skirt with a scythe - and torments her with her fire-stick in an romantic gesture to win her back!!!
What the fuck! – They can all die now for all I care….
Now, I really don’t wanna ruin it for you, so I’ll magnanimously say no more about it - who lives, who dies. Needless to say, I only finished watching this so I could enjoy this lonely rant that I hope you haven’t read.
This (despite the flesh) is probably the worst spaghetti I’ve seen to date, although I gotta say it was lovely flesh, and a lovely print of it. Unfortunately (unlike others who’ve been spared on this thread) I was able to understand it - due to whoever (God bless ‘em) put on the subs. Without these it might have appeared just an enigmatically weird spag.
I’m now praying for less cleavage, and for some lovely fake cacti in my next spag.
So - my considered opinion - utter shit.
But - Please forget all you’ve read tonight, it was just a bad dream. I didn’t mean it. I made it all up.
Somebody tell us the truth!
Is there a no star status?