agcp-Gil

Spaghetti west­erns nat­u­rally lent them­selves to a grim, bru­tal style of sto­ry­telling.  However, there was a cer­tain strain of the genre that down­played blood­shed and dark themes in favor of old-fashioned, Hollywood-ish adven­ture leav­ened with vary­ing doses of phys­i­cal humor.  Some of these films went for full-on slap­stick (see the early career of Terence Hill) but oth­ers went for a sub­tler touch that deliv­ered action and plot twists with a sly smile.

Any Gun Can Play is an inter­est­ing glimpse into the lighter side of the spaghetti west­ern.  It was an early direct­ing credit for Enzo Castellari, the Italian action mae­stro who would later give us gems like Street Law and the orig­i­nal Inglorious Bastards, and it waltzes through the some famil­iar spaghetti west­ern stylings with a nod and a wink.  The end result shapes up as an amus­ing flip­side to the dusty, arid mood­i­ness view­ers nor­mally asso­ciate with the genre.

On paper, the plot looks like a standard-issue setup for bullet-riddled blood­shed.  Clayton (wouldja believe Edd Byrnes?) is a ner­vous bank offi­cial try­ing to shep­herd a big ship­ment of gold from one loca­tion to another via train.  He’s got plenty of rea­sons to sus­pect treach­ery, a sus­pi­cion that is val­i­dated when the train is attacked by crim­i­nal gang leader Monetero (Gilbert Roland).  Things become more com­pli­cated when the Stranger (George Hilton) pops up in the mid­dle of the chaos, plan­ning to appre­hend Monetero for a hefty reward.  One of Monetero’s under­lings absconds with the stolen gold, which leads the story into plenty of twists and turns as the three main char­ac­ters form alle­giances, shift them and try to out­smart each other.

However, this clas­sic setup plays out in a smile-inducing fash­ion thanks to the film’s respect­fully satir­i­cal touch.  A great exam­ple of this is the open­ing sequence, which involves three gun­slingers who sus­pi­ciously resem­ble Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef and Django–era Franco Nero being out­wit­ted and shot down by the Stranger.  The sequence tweaks the viewer’s expec­ta­tions in a humor­ous way but it also shows off a nice knowl­edge of genre style and tech­niques.  Thus, it sub­tly lets the viewer know that the satire is being under­taken with knowl­edge and affection.

The rest of the film fol­lows suit, blend­ing action, laughs, sus­pense and clever sendups of genre faves into an agree­able, fast-paced oater.  Castellari is com­fort­able with both extremes of the mate­r­ial, deliv­er­ing both sus­pense­ful shootouts (the finale is the high­light in this respect) as well as fight scenes with a com­i­cally broad touch.  The high­light of the later cat­e­gory is a kinetic punch-up sequence in a bath­house, where Hilton and Byrnes swing from tim­bers and knock their oppo­nents through wooden tubs.  The end result feels like a west­ern ver­sion of a fight scene from an old Errol Flynn swash­buck­ler.  Castellari’s ener­getic direc­tion makes these sequences sing and his approach is bol­stered nicely by Giovanni Bergamini’s slick cin­e­matog­ra­phy and a jaunty score from Francesco DeMasi.

Better yet, the per­for­mances seal the deal.  George Hilton brings a nice dead­pan wit to the role of the Stranger, a role whose reliance on quiet cool suits his skills nicely.  Edd Byrnes plays against the hip­ster charm he cul­ti­vated on 77 Sunset Strip as the uptight bank man and he does it well, show­ing a sur­pris­ing phys­i­cal­ity in the action scenes (there’s a great bit where he dodges, weaves and leaps through a street mar­ket to elude the villain’s thugs).  Old school Hollywood actor Gilbert Roland lends a strong, old-school sense of pres­ence as Monetero, mak­ing the crime lord instantly believ­able and rogu­ishly like­able.  This is a solid trio to build a movie on and all three deliver the goods.

All these attrib­utes make Any Gun Can Play is engag­ing, Saturday matinée-type fun for spaghetti west­ern fans.  It’s a good flick to throw on when you’re not in the mood for the psy­cho­log­i­cal pum­mel­ing dished up by spaghetti west­erns like Django, Kill! or The Great Silence.