Seen It (Again): A Bullet for the General (1966)

Welcome to my second "review" of  Damiano Damiani's A Bullet for the General. I first watched, and wrote about, this film back in January 2011 a time during which I had just been bitten by the Spaghetti Western bug. This morning, after reviewing essays written by my AP Language & Composition students, and in anticipation of the afternoon's cross-country running meet, I was inspired to rewatch the DVD with a slightly different "eye" and thought perhaps it warranted some updated commentary review. In class, we have been discussing the identification of literary and rhetorical concepts at work in the real world. With a deeper look it is fairly easy to connect the dots and see them active in the reel world, too.

DVD Cover.

A Bullet for the General (1966) (also known as Quien Sabe?), was among the earliest entries on my mental "must-see" list due primarily to two significant selling points: first, its having been being hailed by more than one critic as "one of of the greatest Spaghetti Westerns of all time," and secondly, the presence of the charismatic Italian actor Gian Maria Volonté, recognizable to American film goers from Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More.


Damiani's film is the rare Spaghetti Western that is not really a "Western" at all, given its setting South of the border in Mexico. Truth is, Bullet falls more neatly into a subgenre of the Spaghetti Western it helped to start, the Zapata Western. "Zapata Western" is a nickname given to Spaghetti Westerns which were set in and around Mexico and dealt with overtly political themes.

The film happens to star one of my favorite genre actors, Gian Maria Volonté,  here playing Mexican guerrilla bandit/arms dealer, El Chuncho. As is nearly always the case, there is a twin archetypal silent gringo character, Bill Tate, played by Lou Castel, though more frequently referred to by other characters as either "Gringo" or "El Nino." The plot deals with the American agent of the Mexican government (Castel), intervening in the Mexican Revolution of 1913, by attempting to manipulate a bandit leader (Volonte) into helping him assassinate a revolutionary general. El Chuncho is aided by his brother, El Santo, a Mexican mercenary draped in monks robes, played by actor Klaus Kinski.

El Chuncho. El Nino. El Santo. If you're getting the sense that this film plays like some crazy Mexican Hogan's Heroes, with it's eclectic cast of characters--you are not far off. At a deeper level, the subversive intentions of Colonel Hogan's gang of political prisoner's is also reflected in the overall plot of the movie, too. Each actor performs their role with such relish, that one almost buys (at least I did) that maybe Damiani, who considered this a political film rather than a genre one, was really onto something... though his "message" is intermingled with just enough gore, gun fights and exploitation-style hi jinx to allow it to pass as a Spaghetti, or nascent Zapata, Western.

What made A Bullet for the General "political" in Damiani's eyes were the overt references to the ongoing Vietnam War. It is this analogy that makes the film (and its consideration) of special interest to myself, as an AP Composition teacher. Castel's character, El Nino, representative the CIA's interventions in Latin America, is somewhat symbolic of the United States presence in Vietnam. This subtext sets the tone for future sub genre entries, though just how much of the intended political meaning reached non-European shoes is debatable as film were re-edited for markets that might be offended by the (figurative) content. The turn at the end brings home the message and reveals Damiani's possible sympathies for the Vietnamese.

For a "legitimate," albeit spoiler-laden, review originally published during the film's American release in May 1969 check out this article from the New York Times here, or a review of the recent Blue Ray re-release from DVDActive.com here.

Seen It: Billy the Kid vs. Dracula (1966)

The most recent issue of Oni Press' superb horror-western comic book  The Sixth Gun included an interview of co-creator/writer Cullen Bunn and editor Charlie Shu conducted by writer Joe R. Lansdale. During the interview a number of older films are brought up by Bunn and Shu as having been influential in the development of the book's unique Western-horror aesthetic. Among the film title-dropped was, though familiar to me, one I had never taken the opportunity to hunt down for viewing: director William Beaudine's "camp" (a genre designation I really dislike)  classic Billy the Kid vs. Dracula (1966). That is, until now...

With a run time of just over 70 minutes, the movie jumps right into the straightforward action-horror-western story, the events of which take place over just a few days. Count Dracula (John Carradine), complete with Lugosi-esque glare and widow's peak, is traveling cross country by stage coach. How do we know he's Count Dracula? If the top hat, twirling mustache and foppish necktie don't give it away, his deep-rooted evilness is made clear by the theremin music and bouncing plastic bat that bookend nearly every scene in which he makes an appearance.

While on the stagecoach, the Count chats up some other travellers, one who proudly shares a small locket picture of her beautiful niece, and local ranch owner, Betty Bentley (Melinda Plowman). Of course, being a 100+ year old vampire (and with the venerable Carradine looking every bit of 60+ years in age), the Count immediately concocts a plan to kill the passengers, take the woman's husband's place and take Betty as his eternal bride.

Killing the passengers, the Count takes on the guise of Bettie's visiting uncle, James Underhill. Unbeknownst to the Count, however, young Bettie is betrothed to one William H. Bonney (Chuck Courtney), more well known by his gunslinger moniker, Billy the Kid. (Oddly, everyone, including his fiancee, seem completely aware of his checkered past, yet still  trust him to walk around town with a firearm with little regard for his murderous past.)

In addition to stock footage and the one-shot nature of the camera work, there is more to recommend Billy the Kid vs. Dracula (1966) as an entertaining diversion. Despite being called a camp classic, the performances are actually pretty solid, especially Carradine's performance as Count Dracula. While the movie poster attempted to paint his Dracula as a Lugosi clone, it is something of a unique take on the character. A few anachronistic moments also provide chuckles, too, such as the blatant anti-immigrant stance Dracula takes with two European survivors of the original stage who have an inkling regarding his true intentions. Even funnier (or creepier) is the Dracula's ghoulish dialogue wherein he (while pretending to be Bettie's uncle) flirts with the grieving woman. The Count's first words to his "niece" set the tone for what is to follow, "(you) are much more beautiful than your picture... MU-U-UCH more beautiful." No, not creepy at all.

Fear not though, there is no way Billy the Kid would allow Bettie's lecherous, undead "uncle" to leave his mark on his fiancee. Armed with the pair of previously dismissed European immigrants (one packing what appears to be a straight razor) and a very hard gun, Billy bravely goes toe-to-toe with "The World's Most Diabolical Killer!"



"You may laugh, but I'm making bank with this look!"

Seen It: Navajo Joe (1966)

Just as Italian directors like Sergio Leone hired American actors such as Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson to play clearly "American" drifter-gunman, some "before-they-were stars" actors got their starts playing Native American (Indian) leads. One such example is the Burt Reynolds starrer, Navajo Joe (1966) directed by Sergio Corbucci; who would follow up this film with the genre defining Django (1966). Because Reynolds was a rising star who was himself part-Cherokee, he made the perfect choice for producer Dino De Laurentis' follow up to the Eastwood/Leone collaboration A Fistful of Dollars.

It's always worth mentioning that along for the ride was Ennio Morricone who scored the film but is credited under the name Leo Nichols. As is often the case with Morricone's scores, Navajo Joe's beats have been lifted for many later films, most noticeably (as always seems to be the case) by Quentin Tarentino in his  Kill Bill (2003) movies.

The story is standard for the genre: after being wronged by a band of scalp hunters, Joe hunts down the gang and in the process uncovers a plot to rob a train. Despite being leery of the Indian, the townspeople who receive the money hire Joe to stop the robbery. Check out an interesting (and brief) Turner Classic Movies article about Navajo Joe here for some more educated insight regarding the film.

The layman's review? Navajo Joe is not nearly as offensive as its un-PC title might have you believe--there is quite a bit of subtle reverence paid to Joe's non-descript heritage--and the young Reynolds is quite charismatic in an early role that he would later disavow. As far as Netflix films go, you could spend evenings in much less entertaining ways than with this strong Spaghetti Western. At worst, it can provide a gateway film experience to stronger films it is influenced by (as well as influencing).

Seen It: Django (1966)

New, ruthless, violent and armed with both a Gatling gun and
a catchy adult contemporary theme song!
With the recent announcement of Quentin Tarrentino's script "Django Unleashed" moving into pre-production and casting (Big Willie Smith, really?), there is likely to be renewed fan interest in all things "Django." Despite the fact that there are many, MANY movies that carry the moniker "Django" as part of their titles, there is only one ear-cutting, blood-letting, finger-smashing, coffin-toting, Gatling-wielding Spaghetti Western icon worthy of the name, the one introduced in Sergio Corbucci's genre-classic Django starring Franco Nero.

Ranked fifth on the Spaghetti Western Databases Essential Top 20 Films, Dajngo, is described in the following way: "Violence is a trademark of the genre. Corbucci upped the anti with ears bitten off priests and citizens slaughtered with a machine gun, but the skilled pistolero with the army coat and the coffin are what makes this a cult favorite."

Though I had previously described Nero as a "more wooden Gianno Garko" in my consideration of Keoma the Warrior (1976), that presence actually works to great effect in Nero's portrayal of the world weary gunman in this film. Partially set in a dank, muddy border town, Django plays both sides of the Mexican-American feud, using each against he other in a revenge shell-game that often sees our (anti-)hero facing tremendous odds, a number of which he fails to overcome without first suffering a great deal.

Online scuttlebutt has it that Franco Nero will be returning in some capacity to the screen with a role in Tarrentino's film, so there is no better time to check out the real deal. Available as a downloadable film on Netflix, Django has all the earmarks of a classic, entertaining Spaghetti Western: violence, brooding leading man, poor dialogue overdub, and gritty action.