Dir: Giuseppe Vari
Star: Paolo Casella, Klaus Kinski, Patrizia Adiutori, Dino Strano
a.k.a. Prega il morto e ammazza il vivo, To Kill A Jackal, Pray to Kill and Return Alive

Although I strongly suspect this never came closer than the other side of the Atlantic, this has at least a theoretical local interest to me here in Arizona. For the set-up has Dan Hogan (Kinski) and his gang having robbed a bank in Phoenix of $100,000 in gold bars. They’re now headed south for the Mexican border, but knowing federal agents will be standing guard, they’ve hired a guide with local knowledge to take them through one of the little-known mountain passes across the frontier. Indeed, these are so little known that, despite having lived in Arizona for 17 years, I wasn’t even aware there were mountains between here and Mexico, let alone mountain passes…

Anyway. their intended guide is killed by John Webb (Casella), who links up with Hogan and his gang at the stagecoach stop known as “Jackal’s Ranch,” where they’re waiting for Hogan’s moll to show up with the loot. He offers to replace the guide for half of the gold; despite severe qualms, both by Hogan and other members of the gang, they don’t have many options. There are also tensions within the gang, leading to their number being reduced before they even set off from the inn, and one member, Reed (Strano), reckons Hogan is out to ditch them all. Once they depart, it’s not long before the ill-prepared group find the terrain presenting a threat equal to, if not greater than, the marshals in pursuit.

There are two clear and distinct sections here: the first, in the enclosed setting of the stagecoach stop, and then, as the dwindling band of robbers, along with their hostages and guide, make their way toward the border. The former is definitely the most effective, and it feels like the film was a strong influence on Quentin Tarantino for The Hateful Eight. It was thus no surprise to discover that he listed it among his favorite 20 spaghetti Westerns, the only Kinski starring vehicle to make the list (For a Few Dollars More is #2). The almost stage-like setting, with a group of heroes, villains and those whose agenda is murky, all at each other’s throats, is very similar – and that’s before the arrival of a stagecoach and its passengers throws a curve at proceedings, in both movies.

The interplay between these factions and individuals is always intriguing. Hogan in particular is a wild-card, liable to explode into sudden brutality at the drop of a card. Yet that appears to make him something of a chick-magnet. One of the hostages basically flings herself at him, resulting in this immortal exchange between her and Hogan:
    “You’re not like other men – you’re an animal, and I like you!”
    “Shut your mouth, you stupid bitch!”
I’m probably in agreement with Kinski on that point. But the tension is palpable and well-handled, especially after the forces of law show up, to investigate why the telegraph at Jackal’s Ranch is no longer operating. Largely because we’ve already seen how it can happen, courtesy of Hogan, you feel as if you’re always on the edge of violence breaking out.

Then, at about the half-way point, the party heads out – Hogan, incidentally, unconcerned that some of his gang are lying dead in the barn, along with one of the hostages. Unfortunately, that’s when the film all but grinds to a halt, with little to offer except for endless sequences of them traipsing across the high desert. They seem to run out of water after only about five minutes, and this leads to much whining from the weaker members of the party. Eventually, once everyone else has been disposed of, you do discover what Webb’s agenda and motivation are with regard to Hogan: while reasonable enough, it does feel too much like it was pulled out of a hat.

The problem is, the journey serves no real purpose – except for the water shortage, there’s virtually nothing which could not have happened, just as well, as Jackal’s Ranch. The film loses the tight, claustrophobic constraints of its single location, and offers the viewer instead nothing more than the spaghetti Western equivalent of a long drive, complete with children in the back seat relentlessly asking, “Are we there yet?” I have no clue what Vari was hoping to establish with this change in approach mid-way. I might well have been fascinated if, instead, he’d kept the characters confined, and had Webb continue to pick apart Hogan’s gang, exploiting their paranoia and widening the fractures, to his eventual advantage. That’s what Tarantino did in Eight, certainly.

As is, Kinski is really the only reason to watch this, and offers good value as the chief villain. He doesn’t appear in the early stages, and that absence helps build up audience expectations for the clearly-feared leader of the gang. His entrance delivers on this foreshadowing, arriving like a rattlesnake slithering onto the set – and the reactions of the other characters are mostly along similar lines. Everyone is virtually hypnotized, and it’s almost as if they require his permission, simply to continue existing. It’s a shame that almost no-one else in the cast makes anything of an impression: Casella, in particular, needs to do considerably more to hold the viewer’s interest – especially because his motivation is hidden from the audience for the majority of the film’s running-time.

I guess the makers deserve some praise, at least for attempting to do something significantly different from the standard spaghetti tropes. There are almost no gunfights here, and having the first half take place almost entirely indoors is also decidedly at odds with the usual approach. It’s a shame they did not appear to have the courage of these convictions, and abandoned these efforts at originality, before they could bear a full harvest.