Although the liner notes for …
Although the liner notes for this disc contribute to much of the film as a political Spaghetti Western with Marxist tendencies, put all thoughts of colourless political rhetoric excuse of your erase. Run, Man, Spin has a only slightly bit of this dreaded Point Syndrome, but only a very little, and for the most participate in is a hugely enjoyable Western farce that is nonstop entertainment.
During the presidency of Porfirio Diaz, “Cuchillo” Sanchez (Tomas Milian) is a Mexican thief and con cover shackles who is exceedingly skilled with knives, hence his sobriquet. When he winds up in jail with the versemaker Ramirez (Jose Torres), the poet reveals that he is a gaffer of the revolutionaries and that when he is released he will pay Cuchillo $100 to accompany him to Burton Urban district, Texas, where the gold of Benito Juarez is hidden away. However, during a fracas Ramirez is killed. As he dies, Ramirez hands Cuchillo a bloodied newspaper as his on the contrary clue as to where the gold puissance be hidden. Cuchillo is soon pursued by renegade lawman Nathaniel Cassidy (Donal O’Brien), the bandit leader Riza (Nello Pazzafini), Penny Bannington, a Salvation Army sergeant (Linda Veras) and a pair of French assassins in band with Diaz—all of them after the gold—as nicely as Cuchillo’s own vengeful girlfriend, Dolores (Chelo Alonso), who wants him to set down down, NOW. Also in the mix is John Ireland as Santillana, bandmaster of the revolutionaries after Ramirez’ passing.
The results are repeatedly cheerful, with Milian playing Cuchillo’s cowardly nature to the hilt as he whines and snivels his going commission of struggle after scrape, or has to be rescued time and again from one set of pursuers by another. Milian plays the part of a rapscallion positively and is very engaging. But the funniest bits are given to Chelo Alonso, who had made her name in the Italian pepla (think Steve Reeves). She takes the stereotype of the Mexican Spitfire and runs with it as far as is humanly possible, with first-rate comic timing and eager flair. The scenes between Milian and Alonso are every an individual of them gems of a love/hate relationship. The supporting evict works well, with Donal O’Brien well cast as the grim stalker in Clint Eastwood vogue. The Salvation Army angle is startling, but gives occasion to the single overtly political moment after the speaking that opens the main titles. But even that is practically a ridicule of itself, as Cuchillo exhorts the peons of a border town to good buy all their bread, as is their duty as honest citizens! At the same sometimes, Cuchillo is torn between his own greed and wanting to assay to do the right horror, giving the character some depth that makes the comedy all the richer.
The humor in this picture, a result to Sollima’s The Brobdingnagian Gundown (1966), also starring Milian as Cuchillo, is a receive relief after experiencing some of the gorier moments in Blue Underground’s Spaghetti Western Collection box congeal. While there is silent plenty of violence and some blood, it doesn’t feature the irrational gore in which some of the other offerings are drenched. There are some decidedly striking visuals, such as Riza’s pursuit of Cuchillo on horseback through obscure snow. Another impetuous visual moment comes when the French have captured Cuchillo and strap him to the blade of a windmill in degree to capture him to celebration the putting of the gold. There’s some nifty creativity on view here.
The theme music (sung by Milian under the main titles, but also sung and whistled throughout the running time). As conductor Sollima notes in the documentary, this score is by Ennio Morricone, but for contractual reasons has been credited to Bruno Nicolai. I would classify it amongst the best of Morricone’s scores. This DVD marks the film’s first legitimate appearance in the USA, and it’s a welcome addition to the Spaghetti Western library as a bit of the lighter side.
