Horror and Sci-Fi films old and new, weirdo trash, arthouse, forgotten gems, well loved classics, and I'm watching the original Dr Who from the beginning.
In Revolution-era Mexico, Juan (Rod Steiger) is a bandit with dreams of knocking over the country's biggest bank. When he meets wanted IRA terrorist John (James Coburn), Juan blackmails the Irishman into helping him. But the bank is as empty of money as it is full of political prisoners. After freeing them, Juan finds himself hailed as a revolutionary hero, but that means betrayal and tragedy are around the corner.
Director Sergio Leone kick-started the Spaghetti Western Genre with his ground-breaking 1964 film A Fistful of Dollars, and expanded on the template of amoral heroes, violent gun-play and eerie sun-baked apocalyptic atmosphere with For a Few Dollars More, The Good The Bad and The Ugly, and Once upon a Time in the West.
But, Duck You Sucker (aka A Fistful of Dynamite) feels like a step backwards, lacking some of the elements that made the other films work, particularly Clint Eastwood's Man with No Name character. In the Dollars Trilogy he's a tight lipped stoical man, who sets a tone of ambiguity and understatement. This provides a much needed contrast to the more outre characters. Here, Steiger and Coburn go for the thick cartoon brand of Mexican and Irish accents which soon become grating. Luckily, their natural presence and charisma stop the characters from being unwatchable. Also, the script is heavy handed with too much talk and exposition, while the soft focus flashbacks to John's back story become ludicrous.
Aside from occasional casual misogyny, Duck You Sucker has some more positive, familiar Sergio Leone traits. The Ennio Morricone soundtrack is as quirky, bombastic and haunting as his earlier work with the director. The action sequences, particularly the raid on the bank by Juan and his gang are brilliantly executed. The massacre of a large group of peasants by Mexican government troops is disturbing, and makes a contrast from the dismissive attitude to death often seen in this genre.
A unique entry amongst the biker films of the late 60s and early 70s, The Pink Angels feels like a zany send up of the genre. The stereotypes may seem a little jarring to twenty-first century eyes, but there is a good-natured feel to the film and a sly humour undercutting the standard machismo, all of which is ruined by the revolting final scene. The meandering plot involves half a dozen bikers heading across California, accompanied by endless time-padding montages of them riding their choppers, a la Easy Rider (with a sub Easy Rider twee folk-rock soundtrack). At first, they seem like a standard bunch, with long greasy hair, denim jackets and Nazi memorabilia. However, these have more in common with Priscilla Queen of the Desert than Easy Rider as, rather than a drug-fuelled orgy, they're all on the way to a drag convention in Los Angeles. They much prefer food fights to fist fights, and when women throw themselves at them, our heroes are more interested in the dresses they are wearing. The gang may be little more than limp-wristed stereotypes, but they are also by far the most likable characters in the film. In addition, they do not seem in the slightest bit phased or intimidated by the cops or fellow bikers who try to harass them. Indeed, much of the humour comes from the pranks the Angels pull on them, pranks designed to undercut and mock their machismo. Sadly, the film is ruined by a sub plot involving a man dressed in a General's military uniform who seems to be heading up a shadowy militia organisation, unhappy with the sort of degenerate sixties scum who they think are taking over the country. His scenes seem disconnected from the rest of the film and suggest they were shot at a different time, possibly as an afterthought. This sub-plot leads up to the genuinely distressing ending, jarring and tasteless, given the light generally light-hearted tone of the rest of the film.
A rather ironic title considering that this is simply a big screen rehash of some of the best and best known sketches from the TV incarnation of Monty Python's Flying Circus. The end result is sometimes frustrating but it is saved by the quality of a lot of the material.
As it is simply a Greatest Hits, there is no plot or unifying theme to speak of, although, as on the TV show, sketches sometimes run into each other, and there are occasional running gags, and Terry Gilliam's jaw-dropping animations.
The film is directed in a workmanlike fashion by Ian McNaughton, who was behind the camera for most the TV show. No attempt is made to expand on the writing or shooting of the original material, although this may have been down to the minuscule budget and schedule. The whole thing was financed by Playboy as a way to try and break Monty Python in the US, but with less money for the whole thing than Heff spends in a week on pipe cleaners. In addition, and it may be a subjective thing on my part, but some of the sketches felt a little flat without the laughter track that I was used to hearing on the TV show.
A nice introduction to Monty Python for the uninitiated, but no match for the later efforts such as Holy Grail and Life of Brian, where, unlike here, the team would have the chance to engage with and take advantage of the medium.
