Author: Jim McLennan

Dir: Georges Lautner
Star: Alain Delon, Ornella Muti, Jean Bouise, Klaus Kinski
a.k.a. Death of a Corrupt Man

This political thriller is impressively undated, and with few adaptations, could easily be taking place in the contemporary world. It begins with the murder of Serrano, a fixer with a lot of high-level connections. The man responsible is a member of the French parliament, Philippe Dubaye, who goes to his friend, Xavier Maréchal (Delon) for help. Turns out, Dubaye had also taken a ledger from Serrano, which implicates names all the way to the top in the government and beyond, as having taken bribes. Dubaye has stashed the ledger in the apartment where he keeps his young mistress, Valérie (Muti). But when Dubaye also turns up dead, it’s up to Maréchal and Valérie to navigate the treacherous shoals. For there are a lot of people who would like to get their hands on that ledger, by any means necessary.

Delon may be the epitome of cool, completely unfazed by anything and anyone. He barely raises a sardonic eyebrow when woken in the middle of the night by a friend confessing to murder [interestingly, what we see unfold of this in flashback, and what Dubaye describes, are clearly not the same thing at all]. He retains this phlegmatic temperament through several enthusiastic attempts to kill him. It helps that he’s entirely capable of handling these attempts, having skills better suited to a French F1 driver. But even so, his remarkable grace under the pressure is impressive. I guess when you look as good as Delon, massive slabs of self-confidence comes with the territory!

It’s all wonderfully murky, with the motives and intentions of just about everyone suspect, save for Xavier. He is solely interested in finding out who killed his friend, and that information determines to whom he will give the ledger. This is proof positive of his moral imperatives, for he could quite easily turn the evidence into a large amount of wealth and/or power. That said, it’s equally testimony to his cynical realization, that what happens to the information in it won’t necessarily make a lot of difference. Some politicians will take the fall for the bribes they’ve been given. They’ll just be replaced by others, quite likely with their hands equally out-stretched. Getting justice for Dubaye is about all for which Xavier can hope.

The other thing of particular note, is that this conspiratorial snake is one without a head. Initially, it seems the man at the top may be Monsieur Tomski, the small but important role played by Kinski. He shows up early, with a smile which is more creepy and disturbing than anything, apparently permanently on his face as he moves through the upper echelons of society. Tomski than vanishes from much of the middle. He only re-enters the fray after Xavier is arrested by the cops as a suspect in the murders, easily pulling the strings needed to get our hero released by Commissioner Perne (Bouise). Tomski then invites Xavier to a hunting party at his country mansion, in an effort to apply pressure towards giving up the ledger.

Though Maréchal is lucky to get there alive, since on the road, a pincer movement leads to three vehicles being dumped onto his, off the back of a car transporter. Was this Tomski’s work? Hard to say. Certainly, the industrialist makes it clear he’s not fooling around, with another participant on the hunt being shot, purely to drive home that very point to Xavier. Message delivered, they have a little chat, in which Tomski outlines the film’s worldview in the following terms, yet also indicates that there are other, unseen hands pulling his strings.

“Although you will not find my name on any piece of paper, the ledger you possess is my property. Or, if you want, I am responsible for it to certain people. Since the political climate now is very unfavorable, your exposure can only harm the interests of the country… As long as power has not been captured by the Internationale of workers, it entirely belongs to the Internationale of bankers. And it has its own laws, the new ones. Words like “enemies” or “allies” have lost their significance. There are no friends, only partners. Capital does not recognize any borders.”

Tomski exits the film shortly after. It’s not clear if he ever gets his hands on the ledger. Xavier doesn’t give it to him directly, yet it feels possible the eventual recipient could be working under Tomski. It doesn’t matter, certainly not to Maréchal – though he does remove any reference to his late friend from the dossier before handing it over. And he realizes Tomski was correct: nothing will change. “Some of the people’s representatives will stay on their toes, but not for long. I assure you, time will pass and they will have new masks of honest politicians – like old women, who tighten the skin on their faces… Sleep soundly, Parisians. All is well.”

A couple of other points of note. Muti is a total seventies fox, even if her role in this is rather minor, beyond finding a photographer’s studio where they can copy the ledger. [One of the few aspects which would need updating for a contemporary remake, now we all have cameras on our phones] Though I was amused, again, by Xavier’s low-key reaction on learning that his pal had a secret apartment with a dolly bird stashed in it. I am Xavier’s Complete Lack of Surprise. I also must praise the rich soundtrack by Philippe Sarde, a couple of years before being Oscar-nominated for his score accompanying Klaus’s daughter in Tess. Here, it features sax by Stan Getz. Though sadly, we don’t get Girl From Ipanema worked into proceedings at any point.

While I’d be hard-pushed to call this a major Kinski work, it’s one which I certainly enjoyed watching. Political films often suffer a high degree of attrition over time, as the social and cultural landscape changes. That isn’t the case here, with the nicely cynical attitudes contained just as relevant in 2020.

Dir: Siro Marcellini
Star: Maurice Poli, Franco Citti, Klaus Kinski, Hélène Chanel
a.k.a. Gangsters’ Law

There’s more than a hit of Reservoir Dogs here – or, perhaps that should be Serbatoio Cani? We begin with a shoot-out in the streets of the Italian city of Genoa, where bank robbers are being pursued by the cops as they attempt to getaway with their 50 million lira haul. Reinforcements on the side of the thieves turn up, allowing them to make their getaway. But only at cost, one of them having been badly wounded in the exchange. As they head away, we flash back to seeing what took the gang to that point, and also forward to see how things unfold. Which may, or may not, involve one of them being an informer for the cops.

We start with Bruno Esposito (Citti), a kid from the country who has come up to live and work in the city. When he gets involved in a brawl at a disco, the resulting fall-out gets him fired from his job in a body-shop, and begins his drift into the world of crime. A car theft turns into a house burglary, which brings this angry young man into the sphere of crime boss Rino (Poli), who sees something of himself in Bruno. Also recruited is a young hanger-on to the upper classes, because Rino finds out he had set that up in order to swipe some jewels from his girlfriend, Contessa Elena Villani, and pay off a gambling debt. He spends his time at hippie discos, saying things like, “We don’t dig girls who are uptight and with bourgeois morality.”

Kinski’s character, Regnier, and his ever-present hat (more on which later), are introduced just after the half-hour point, casually buying his girlfriend an expensive ring, He turn out to be the financier for the operation, and drives a hard bargain when negotiating with Rino. Regnier demands 50% of the take, even though, as Rino points out, it’s the gang who will be taking most of the risks. We also get to see his romantic technique with his moll, which is best described as imitating a leopard eating off someone’s face. I guess when you are being bought some really expensive jewellery, you have to put up with that kind of animalistic pawing. In the role of his girlfriend, Donatella Turri does quite a good job of pretending to enjoy it though.

The robbery plan is to take the white van belonging to the bank messenger out of commission, and then send a stand-in – hopefully one which is convincing enough to pass muster – in his place to collect the cash. This works, but the sudden arrival of the police on the scene precipitates the shoot-out with which we opened. They only escape by the skin of their teeth, taking their casualty with them. When everyone meets up after the event, the financier shoots the injured man dead, to the disgust of Rino – presumably for fear of an unwanted loose end. However, this causes Rino to rip up the original deal, telling Regnier he’s lucky to be getting to walk away with the life. Needless to say the industrialist feels otherwise.

He celebrates the success of the endeavor, by hooking up with his girlfriend for another session of intense face-nibbling. At least Regnier does her the courtesy of taking off his hat first. Though he then shoots her, before reclaiming the ring. I guess her face can’t have tasted all that good. The rest of the gang have split up, and are hiding out, while they wait for the heat to die down. With the police having blocked the roads out of town, they’re forced to stay in Genoa – which makes it considerably easier for Regnier to find them. One is killed by the side of the road; another in a hall of mirrors. Rino is quickly figuring out what’s up, but it’s Bruno who gets to go toe-to-toe against Regnier, in an extended battle down by the water.

The most remarkable feature of which, is probably the way that Regnier’s hat remains attached to his head through 90% of the brawl. That’s fair enough when he is stalking his prey. But even when they are rolling around on the ground or flailing boat-hooks at each other, the hat stays on. It’s not until they begin splashing about in the shallows, that it finally parts company (and I was sad to see it go), shortly before Bruno gains the upper hand and drowns his one-time accomplice. Not that it helps him much, as the police arrive, in hot pursuit, and take him into custody. Rino tries to make it out of the country by boat, but the authorities get tipped off and are waiting. He goes all James Cagney and refuses to let them take him alive.

It’s all rather fragmented, and there seems to be a lot of things which happens without explanation. Why does Regnier get so bent out of shape about the robbery causing a shoot-out? How do the police know where to be? Shouldn’t somebody at the bank notice that the messenger, whom they clearly know well, isn’t the messenger? Why didn’t the gang hold onto the van they diverted, and prevent the alarm from being raised? All of these are poorly explained, and the bouncing around between the multiple characters isn’t managed particularly well either.

I did like the score by Piero Umiliani, a composer about whom I spoke a bit, in my review of Death’s Dealer. It manages to cover quite a lot of bases, in terms of both styles and emotions, yet does so effectively. Otherwise, though, there’s not much to recommend this. Outside of Kinski’s presence – playing another weird character – it’s not one I’d say was worth bothering with, unless you’re a hardcore completist for Eurocrime flicks

Dir: Antonio Margheriti (as Anthony Dawson)
Star: Klaus Kinski, Peter Carsten, Marcella Michelangeli, Antonio Cantafora

Of all the many spaghetti Westerns in which Kinski was involved, this likely deserves to be considered as among the very best. For a Few Dollars More and The Great Silence are perhaps better overall, but that’s including the non-Klaus elements like cinematography and music. For pure, undiluted Kinski, this is probably the best, and it’s notable for going against type. Klaus is the hero. Yes, that is not a typo. He plays a good guy, not a deceitful snake. Sure, he’s still a grim and remorseless killer. But he’s a grim and remorseless killer for a reason, and in the Western genre, that makes all the difference between sporting a black hat and a white one.

He plays Gary Hamilton, who was unjustly sentenced to hard labor for reasons we eventually discover, and has spent the last decade breaking rocks, before receiving entirely unexpected clemency, due to his previous honorable service in the military. Immediately on release, Gary sets about taking revenge on the man responsible for putting him behind bars, Acombar (Karsten), who is now enjoying a very pleasant life, and the fruits of his ill-gotten gains. Not the least of which is Gary’s woman, Maria (Michelangeli), who switched sides to become Acombar’s moll. He’s less than pleased to hear Gary is out, and dispatches his minions (including Gina Lollobrigida’s cousin, Guido) to ensure the disgruntled ex-prisoner doesn’t even reach Acombar’s ranch.

The above all takes place within the first 25 minutes, with the remaining 70 largely devoted to Gary’s assault. The town is under a tornado warning, meaning the streets are deserted as the storm swirls around, except for our hero and Acombar’s man. But Gary has a big advantage, in that he was brought up in the town, and knows it like the back of his hand. This includes the network of tunnels running underneath it, which he uses to outflank and sneak up on the hapless opponents. His war is as much a psychological one as physical, for example, ringing to church bell to lure in the enemy. He does this not once, but twice – only, on the second occasion, one of their number is dangling at the end of the bell-rope. He then sets up another to be crushed by the giant bell.

It’s established early on he’s a crack-shot, and is supremely confident in his own abilities. By coincidence, he arrives in town on the same stage as Acombar’s son, Dick (Cantafora), who is entirely unaware of the source of his family wealth, and quite deliberately gives up the element of surprise. “You tell your father, Gary Hamilton’s back in town,” he says, adding even more ominously, “And I’ll see him at sundown.” Again, this is part of his psychological approach, knowing this will force Acombar into action. Perhaps a wiser tactic would have been to shore up his defense, and hunker down to wait for Gary’s arrival, rather than going out to meet on his terms and turf.

It does definitely take a little bit of getting used to seeing Klaus in a “heroic” role. Though, as noted above, it’s perhaps closer to an anti-hero, given Gary clearly has no aversion to spilling blood, and is entirely and single-mindedly focused on making Acombar pay. This is a man on a mission, not interested in chat, and impossible to dissuade. You might as well try and talk the tornado out of its destructive path. And by the time the end credits roll, that vengeance is utterly complete. His target has lost everything that matters: the respect of his son, his woman, all his men, his ranch and, only then, his life. Yeah, that’s technically a spoiler. But did you really expect it to end in any other way?

There are apparently strong similarities between this and 1968’s A Stranger in Paso Bravo, in which a man, unjustly imprisoned is released to seek revenge on those responsible. Now, that’s hardly a new story, and you could write this off as parallel development. Except for the hero’s name in Stranger being… Gary Hamilton, with the antagonist called Acombar. Hmm. The two films have different scriptwriters, but the coincidences are just too much to overlook. I have not seen Stranger, but those who have universally say that Cain is the superior adaptation. So while I’m in no rush to see what will likely seem like a poor knock-off, it is something which should likely be acknowledged.

Margheriti turned his hand to just about every genre over his forty-year career as a director. But in the first of his four times working with Kinski, it’s perhaps his horror experience which comes through most. That dates back to 1964’s black and white Castle of Blood, later remade in color with Kinski as Web of the Spider. A dark and stormy setting (even if the day-for-night photography sometimes isn’t too successful), plus an unstoppable killing machine, perhaps makes this an ancestor of Halloween – if Michael Myers were the good guy. There’s certainly no shortage of impressive visual style, up to the rather contrived “hall of mirrors” finale between Hamilton and Acombar. This was likely inspired by Orson Welles’ The Lady From Shanghai, though in my personal lexicon of cinema, it felt more like the final showdown in Enter the Dragon.

I’ve read a couple of pieces suggesting Gary is actually a ghost – he died in prison, and it’s his vengeful spirit, which returns to seek out and destroy Acombar. It’s an interesting thought, but does seem at odds with an early scene in the quarry where he and his fellow inmates are laboring. He kills a rattlesnake, despite being informed, “There’s one way out of this place.” “That’s not the way I want to go,” replies Hamilton, which seems less like a specter, and more like a man intent on clinging on to life, at least until he has achieved his revenge. #LifeGoals, I guess. I’m also a bit confused by the title, referring to the Biblical story in which Cain murdered his brother, Abel in an unjustified fit of rage. Hard to think of anything less like what we have here. Still, that doesn’t stop it from being one of Kinski’s absolute best.

Dir: Jesus Franco
Star: James Darren, Maria Rohm, Barbara McNair, Klaus Kinski
a.k.a. Paroxismus – Può una morta rivivere per amore?

Watching the first couple of minutes of this, I was forcibly reminded of why I generally regard Franco as a talentless hack, who couldn’t direct his way out of a paper-bag. It begins with jazz trumpeter Jimmy Logan (Darren) digging his instrument up off a Turkish beach – for no reason we ever discover. He’s doing some random noodling on it, when he spots something washing up on the sand. Hanging his instrument on a convenient breakwater, he runs towards it… then Franco suddenly breaks into slow-motion. This was quickly shaping up to be the longest 86 minutes of my life.

But, actually, by the end, I was… Well, the word “enjoying” is probably still incompatible with me and any Franco movie, but I will stretch to tolerating it. There’s a lot here which is derisory, first and foremost being Logan’s voice-over, which drones on for virtually the entire movie, while failing to add anything of use. You’d think it might accidentally run into some insight, given the near-incessant commentary it provides, but no such luck. This reaches peak superfluousness near the end when it recites, word-for-word, the inscription on a gravestone which is clearly visible on screen. While it’s nice that Franco is taken the legally-blind into consideration here, those of us with functioning ocular equipment could do very well without it. And that’s not even counting painfully dated lines like, “Man, it was a wild scene, but if they wanted to go that route, it was their bag.”

It’s probably best to treat this as a cinematic love-letter to Rohm, then married to producer Harry Alan Towers. For the body of her character, Wanda Reed, is what Jimmy stumbles across on the beach. Cue a flashback to when he was playing at a ritzy party, when Wanda appears, drawing everyone’s attention, but in particular his. She wanders off with three friends: fashion photographer Olga, Arab playboy Ahmed Kortobawi (Kinski) and art dealer Percival Kapp. Jimmy follows and watches in horror as the trio sexually abuse, whip and eventually kill Wanda. Back in the present, he flees Istanbul for Rio after finding her corpse, but is stunned when Wanda – or someone identical to her – shows up there, and begins to extract vengeance on her three killers.. Jimmy become obsessed with the mysterious Wanda – much to the sadness of Rita (McNair), his singer girlfriend.

As should be clear from the above, any similarity to the work of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch is purely coincidental. Though, along with Justine (another Franco/Towers feature), it does make Kinski part of an elite club: actors who have appeared in films named after the works of the men whose names gave us both the words of sadism and masochism. Yeah, that’s probably just a tad convoluted. This was never intended to be based on Sacher-Masoch’s book. The name was taken fairly late in the day, for purely commercial reasons – perhaps to cash in on the Velvet Underground song, which was released in 1967. Its original title was Black Angel, which remained the case in Germany. The Italian one given at the top translates as “Paroxismus – Can a dead woman live again for love?”, and should probably be considered as a bit of a spoiler.

For once, the delirious, dream-like quality of Franco’s directorial style works for the film, reflecting a world where we’re never quite sure what is objectively real. Indeed, the ending, with its not one but two (marginally) shocking and (extremely) implausible twists, seems to suggest the answer is: not much. Still, you can drift through its globetrotting, psychedelic fluffiness without it ever requiring too much attention, and a frequently unclad Rohm is not exactly a chore to look at. However, I could have done without a soundtrack which is best described as jazz honking of the most annoying kind. I was amused that it was partly-created by Mannfred Mann of Earth Band fame. He appears in the movie as a pianist, while Franco also cameos as a musician, playing the trombone.

It’s also very obviously padded, with about 40 minutes of actual content. There’s the initial murder, and the three scenes in which Wanda takes her revenge. Maybe add on the final reveals – though the jury is still out on the necessity of the car chase which precedes it, between the police and Jimmy + Wanda. Everything else? Skippable, particularly the gratuitous footage of Rio’s carnival. I’d have been happy to trade all of that for a slightly better explanation of what precisely is going on. The “trio of vengeance” sequences are not bad, being atmospherically shot, and imbued with a spooky sensuality, largely thanks to Rohm. Particular toasty is the encounter between Wanda and Olga. It begins with the former fondling a statue, in a manner that’s far more erotic than it has any right to be.

Kinski, playing an Arab (!), all but vanishes for the middle hour of the film, being the last of Wanda’s killers to receive their come-uppance. It is a little bit different from the previous, where she just seems to show up and guilt them either into a heart attack or suicide. This time, we get a kinda Arabian Nights-esque tale about a sultan and his obsession with a slave girl, that ends in the sultan/Ahmed dying of sexual ecstacy. But it’s little more than an extended cameo for Klaus, and the few lines he does have are dubbed. However, according to Franco, he did also work on the screenplay here, though Klaus didn’t receive any screen credit for it.

This should not be confused with the other Euro-flick of the same name, made the same year – that one was directed by Massimo Dallamano, and is rather more masochistically inclined. Nor should this be confused with a good movie. For I defy anyone to watch it, and provide an explanation to cover everything that happens, which makes logical sense, rather than raising more questions than it answers. That’s certainly not uncommon in Jesus Franco movies. But for once, I’ll tolerate it.

Dir: Mario Gariazzo
Star: Philippe Leroy, Tony Norton, Sylvia Monti, Klaus Kinski
a.k.a. The Bloody Hands of the Law

The force of organized crime is reaching out with impunity in contemporary Italy, under the control of the mysterious Vito Quattroni (Kinski). The film opens with the assassination of crime family member Frank Esposito, who is recuperating in hospital, under police custody. Obviously, this triggers a massive police investigation. Though the cop in charge, Commissario Gianni De Carmine (Leroy) feels handcuffed by the new approach to policing, and would far rather continue his approach, which largely consists of extracting confessions from people through violence.

It doesn’t help that any time progress is made, and a potential witness found by authorities, Quattroni and his minions quickly tidy up the loose end by killing them before they can provide any useful evidence. It’s apparent that there’s someone inside the police, feeding information to the bad guys which allows them to keep one step ahead of the police. De Carmine, in between bouts of lounging around in bed with wife Linda (Monti), decides that the only way he can match them, is to go all lone wolf, and revert to his former, punchier methods of investigation. It’s kinda a case of “If you can’t beat them… Well, go ahead and beat them anyway.”

The seventies was very much a time of change for police around the world, with the concept of rights for those in custody becoming more prevalent. The tension between this and “old-school” officers was a common source of inspiration for fictional police, and not just in Italy. Dirty Harry (1971) was probably the source for many. Though what comes most immediately to mind as a comparison for this is British TV show The Sweeney, which was a huge success from 1975-78. In it, John Thaw played a London equivalent of De Carmine – which meant running round and yelling “You’re nicked, my son!” at suspects, before or after pounding them into submission.

These all tended to have a sympathy for their protagonists, who were typically depicted as well intentioned law officers, who needed to be able to play the criminals without restriction, in order to defeat them. That’s certainly the case here: it’s only when De Carmine reverts to form that he is effectively able to combat Quattroni. This is partly due to the departmental mole becoming useless as a result, and unable to raise the alarm. Yet it also relies on the effectiveness of the hero’s robust methods, and tacitly endorses them as a result. Of course, the Mafia in seventies Italy was undeniably a serious problem, likely more so than organized crime in most other Western countries.

However, there’s a twist at the end, when De Carmine discovers the true “power behind the throne,” in terms of Quattroni carrying out their orders. For it turns out, rather than being traditional organized crime, to be an international group of stock traders, located on Wall Street. By manipulating events, and knowing about them in advance, they can take advantage of the changes in share price which result. This feels an interesting foreshadowing towards the dark nexus between crime, business and government, which would blossom in Italy into the notorious P2 scandal, early in the eighties.

Kinski’s portrayal of Vito Quattroni is certainly one of the less voluble of his career, to put it mildly. Indeed, I’m not sure he says anything of note. Or, possibly, anything at all, leaving the talking to his sidekick. But he still delivers the film’s most memorable scene and one that certainly ranks in any top 10 list of “Klaus’s characters do some really fucked-up shit”. One of Quattroni’s henchmen has succeeded in abducting a witness, and is holding her for his boss in an garage. While waiting there, he’s flicking through a porno mag, and gets the idea that molesting the witness is a good way of passing the time. However, Quattroni’s opinion on the matter when he shows up differs quite considerably…

It’s not like he’s gallantly riding to the rescue. For after he tenderly pulls the woman’s clothes back over her half-naked body, he immediately pulls a revolver, presses it to her side and shoots the witness dead. Quattroni then turns to his naughty associate, who is now being held firmly in the grasp of Quattroni’s sidekick. This being a garage, there are all manner of tools around. Quattroni reaches for the blow-torch, pulls out and puts on his aviators shades (below), gets the torch ablaze… and applies it to the wannabe rapist’s crotch. It’s nice to see even criminals can have a zero tolerance policy for sexual abuse, and you get the impression Quattroni and De Carmine may not be as far apart morally as you’d expect.

It’s a shame they don’t get to share the screen more, as it’d make for an interesting dynamic, like Pacino/De Niro in Heat. Instead, when De Carmine eventually get the tip he has been waiting for, that his quarry is in a roadhouse, this leads to a car-chase through the Italian countryside. Quattroni’s vehicle plunges over an embankment, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to unleash a hail of lead on his pursuers. Of course, De Carmine gets to yell the Italian equivalent of “You’re nicked, my son,” and his enthusiastic interrogation technique soon has Quattroni singing like a canary.

That, effectively, is the end of Kinski’s contribution to the movie, and it kinda peters out from there. It becomes clear that Quattroni is more of a bit player, just a cog in a far larger machine – which makes De Carmine’s obsession with catching him for the vast bulk of the running time, rather pointless. However, I guess that ties in well to the film’s generally cynical attitude towards justice in general, and the task of law enforcement in particular. I have a sneaking admiration for movies like that, and as a snapshot of seventies style, mentality and morality, it offers considerably more than a worthless time-capsule.

Dir: Roberto Bianchi Montero
Star: Antonio Sabàto, Lucretia Love, Klaus Kinski, Van Johnson
a.k.a. Eye of the Spider

The English title makes it likely to be confused with another, unrelated Kinski movie made in 1971, Web of the Spider. Though it’s probably relevant that I spent half of this film coming up with an eight-legged version of that song from Rocky: “It’s the eye of the spider / It’s the thrill of the web / Rising up from a rosebush in the garden…” On the one hand, it’s not the film’s fault, considering the Stallone classic came out more than a decade later. However, it’s still telling to realize, I got more amusement out of coming up with arachnid-based parodies, than from… oh, I dunno… watching the damn movie.

For it’s a thoroughly pedestrian tale of revenge. Paul Valéry (Sabàto) is spring from a prison van by Prof. Orson Krüger (Johnson). He was the mastermind behind the diamond heist which put Paul in jail, after the rest of the gang betrayed both Valéry and Krüger, absconding with the loot instead. Orson wants to team up with Paul to get revenge, putting him through “plastic surgery” [really, removing the very bad make-up job previously applied to Sabàto!] and giving him a new identity as Frank Vogel. He is then sent, along with Krüger’s main squeeze, Gloria (Love), off on his mission.

Though it soon turns out that Valéry is his own man, not just the Prof’s attack-dog. That’s especially true where the leader of his former colleagues, Hans Fischer (Kinski), is concerned. Valéry’s fondness for acting first and thinking later, puts him at odds with his employer, who wants a more cautious and deliberate approach, and is keener on getting the loot than his revenge. Frankly, I’m with Paul: this film already has far more than its share of dawdling around, and anything which gets us to the meat of the vengeance is alright by me. If Orson had his way, we’d probably still be sitting around, thinking about how to move forward. I know revenge is a dish best served cold: however, Krüger seems to think that involves waiting until it’s past its sell-by date.

Not that Paul is necessarily much smarter. I mean, the first thing he does with his new face and secret identity… is call up one of his old pals and threaten him. So much for the element of surprise, eh? This does lead to an element of slight intrigue, as the gang are a bit confused, and have to deal with someone who is attempting to sell them photos of the man apparently targeting them. But, like just about everything else in the film, it’s depicted in a way which robs it of all tension and interest. Similarly, the relationship between Paul and Gloria is completely uninteresting. About the only sequence of note is the final fight between Paul and Hans, which takes place in a boathouse by the sea. It’s reasonably well-staged, and packs more of a wallop than everything else combined.

Sadly, that also includes Kinski in this case. It certainly doesn’t help that the English-language dubbing in the version I saw (on Amazon Prime) is particularly abysmal. He’s given an outrageous Italian accent for some reason, which completely buries his entire performance. Still, I guess it could have been worse. According to a comment on the IMDb, in the German-language dub, “his character is named ‘The Polack’ and given a dreadfully fake Polish accent”! Count your blessings… Oddly, the various promotional artworks also vary in his importance, the Italian poster choosing to omit him entirely. Or the German poster (above) has him painted in. Your choice…

I was somewhat impressed by the black-and-white flashbacks, which help illuminate what happened in the original robbery. And I was also not averse to the bleak ending, sudden though it was. [Something about “dig two graves,” would be appropriate] Otherwise? Generally, I aim to write about a thousand words per movie, and even in the films where Kinski isn’t present much, I can generally find enough to cover for that. This one, however, basically defeats me. I’m cutting my losses at around seven hundred, and calling it a night.