Navajo Joe (Sergio Corbucci / Italy-Spain, 1966):

Slaughter is big business in Sergio Corbucci's frontier, revenge is an independent dealer's venture. The forerunner is Aldrich's Apache, which puts Burt Reynolds tumbling in buckskin as the proper heir to Lancaster, adjusted to the new decade's ruthlessness. It opens with a raid on a Navajo village but with the cowboys doing the scalping (one dollar per pelt at the sheriff's office), the bandit leader (Aldo Sambrell) is a half-breed seething with hatred from a life of abuse. Banjo strings as archery props at the saloon, from the Wells Fargo train a view of the desert for the immigrant toddler, "a beautiful country." Half a million dollars seals the deal between mercenaries and the banker's son-in-law (Pierre Cressoy), the destination is a prosperous burg named Esperanza. (Clean shaven under the cleric collar, Fernando Rey blesses the incoming fortune.) Lethal warrior and free agent, Reynolds' Joe springs into action: Framed in a low angle against an ecstatic cobalt sky, he contemplates the Monet coquelicot under his heel before coolly taking out every armed brute in a locomotive, a rough draft for The Wild Bunch. Violent transactions in the commanding Corbucci manner (compact arrangements splintered by handheld inserts), a matter of "personal hobby" versus "solid investment" in the Andalusian wilderness of the gringo sagebrush. Outcasts to the rescue, dance-hall entertainers and the brave who holds the silver star at the edge of his feathered rifle. "An Indian sheriff? The only ones elected in this country are Americans!" The upside-down crucifixion at the corral, Ennio Morricone's primal scream, the hatchet hurled at the camera. A close study of Mann's Man of the West for the showdown amid jagged boulders, white steed as silent witness. With Nicoletta Machiavelli, Lucio Rosato, Nino Imparato, Tanya Lopert, Franca Polesello, and Valeria Sabel.

--- Fernando F. Croce

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