Roy Colt and Winchester Jack (1970)

Our film begins in earnest and bare knuckles drawn as our two title characters brawl over who gets to be the leader of their band of outlaws. And while these two knock-down, drag-out, and beat the ever-lovin’ snot out of each other, the rest of the gang idly watches this spectacle completely unenthused; apparently, these two do this kind of thing a lot. In the end, when a barely conscious “Winchester” Jack (Southwood) winds-up the last one standing, he inherits the whole gang because Roy Colt (Halsey) decides, then and there, to up and leave his lawless days behind him and go legit. 

Thus and so, while Roy's off trying to go straight, Jack manages to save Manilla (Tolo), an enterprising Indian maid -- who never met a dollar she didn't like, or a man she couldn't dupe several out of, from a gang of vigilantes. As a reward, she let's Jack sleep with her -- after he takes an ice-water bath, and then keeps a running tab on all her ... *ahem* “services rendered” for the duration of the movie, no matter who she winds-up bunking down with.

Meanwhile, Roy manages to get himself appointed Sheriff of Carson City, a mining town. And while he's off escorting the latest gold shipment, Jack teams up with another outlaw to find out where Carson City’s lucrative mine is hidden. 

Now, this outlaw in question is a psychotic Russian called the Reverend (Corra), a former disciple of Rasputin himself, who is also a massive hypochondriac with a thing for dynamite. Together, they manage to destroy half the town and steal a map to the gold, each taking a half because neither really trusts the other.

Using that mistrust to his advantage, Sheriff Colt quickly unhinges this shaky alliance by playing both sides against each other, manipulating the two rival gangs into whittling each other down to a more manageable size, as they all head for the X-that-marks-the-spot and the final, fatal showdown…

Of the thirteen films included in Anchor Bay's dual Mario Bava box-sets that were released back in 2007, I was probably most anxious to see Roy Colt and Winchester Jack (1970). Now, I was well aware that the Maestro of the Macabre had made a couple westerns back in the day but I had not managed to see any of them yet -- stress on the “yet.” But! My enthusiasm for this first time view took a major hit when a little research found that this particular western was, in fact, a parody of the genre’s many trappings. That’s right, Roy Colt and Winchester Jack was not only a western, but a comedy western. 

Full confession. Mario Bava is one of my all time favorite filmmakers. As a director, a cinematographer, a production designer, or special-effects artist, on his budgets, the man had few equals. However, if Bava has an achilles’ heel, in my humble opinion, and my fellow survivors of Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs (1966) will back me up on this, it’s his handling of comedy. 

Don’t get me wrong, the man can be funny -- hilarious even, when he’s being morbid, sly, and subtle, or using gallows humor. But when he goes full bore for the broad yuks, well, the results were typically … not all that great. Still, I kept an open mind when the box-sets arrived and Roy Colt and Winchester Jack was, indeed, the first film I watched -- and I am happy to report the film, like its protagonists, was a lot more hit than miss as it taps into a comedic vein.

Obviously a mash-up of (and a cash-in on) Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid (1969) and Sergio Leone’s brand of wild western mayhem in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966), it didn't take long at all for Bava to win me over. In fact, it had barely started with the trippy and infectious theme song provided by Piero Umiliani and Tony Gizzarelli when I cracked my first smile; and by the time the initial brawl ended -- “I won,” says Jack over the prone Roy, who then promptly collapses, I was all in. 

For his cast, Brett Halsey was a former contract player for Universal International but didn’t survive the studio’s purge of the mid-1950s. From there he was a semi-regular for American International Pictures, appearing in the likes of The Crybaby Killer (1958) and High School Hellcats (1958), before making the move to Italy when his domestic career stalled out, starting with Riccardo Freda’s The Seventh Sword (1962). Charles Southwood was also an expatriate, who had already appeared in a couple of other Spaghetti Westerns, including Make the Sign of the Cross, Stranger! (1968) and Sartana's Here, Trade Your Pistol for a Coffin (1970). Both played likeable doofs and have good chemistry together as our roguish and constantly brawling heroes. 

Roy Colt and Winchester Jack was also my introduction to the absurdly gorgeous Marilù Tolo -- Colossus and the Amazon Queen (1960), The Triumph of Hercules (1964), and Kiss the Girls and Make them Die (1966), proud holder of my latest cinematic crush/obsession, who really commands your attention as the conniving Manila, who runs circles around or heroes -- make that, she makes the heroes run circles around her. 

Tolo’s career has run the gambit of peplum, spies, spaghetti westerns, and gialli, and I look forward to tracking down as many of these as possible. A nod must also be given to Teodora Corrà's take on the mad Russian monk with the irritable bowel and a dynamite fetish; that throwaway scene where he's dropping a deuce while his men are setting up an ambush was priceless, and had liquid coming out my nose once I realized what that honking music cue had meant.

And these actors do deserve a lot of credit for making this nonsense work because, as rumor has it, it didn't take Bava long to chuck Mario di Nardo's script once filming began. These two would also collaborate on Five Dolls for an August Moon (1970) the very same year, where it's rumored Bava did the exact same thing, meaning the majority of both films were ad-libbed from the get-go and shot piecemeal. 

But aside from a lengthy, unnecessary, and ill-advised sidetrack to a brothel that is ultimately destroyed in the ensuing melee over a chance to bed a couple of Irish whores, the film holds together remarkably well. While watching, it's easy to tell that nobody was taking things all that seriously; so as a viewer, you probably shouldn’t either. And even if the comedy does leave you flat, there are still plenty of inventive and masterful Bava strokes to take in. 

There's a great scene where Roy rallies a posse to go after Jack and the Reverend, but as the camera dollies with him, back and forth, as he speaks harsh truths of the danger ahead in front of the mob, we notice with each pass the crowd is thinning out until, his speech complete, he turns to face a near empty room, setting up the scene’s ultimate punchline. (And yeah, it should have quit while it was ahead.) 

And the whole scene at the Indian burial ground -- the set-ups and camera-work -- are pure Bava doing his thing as only he can. I especially liked the moment where the camera actually "digs" for the gold. It's also kinda cool to see how the director tried to make the Spanish coast look like Monument Valley with just some National Geographic cut-outs, a little shifty matte work, and some forced perspective.

I don't know, maybe Roy Colt and Winchester Jack just caught me on a good day or in a forgiving mood. But I honestly think this was one of those movies that will only get even better with repeated viewings. It is by no means the second-coming of Blazing Saddles (1974), or as good as those Terence Hill and Bud Spencer Trinity movies -- The Call Me Trinity (1970), Trinity is Still My Name (1971), but it will go a long, long way in scrubbing any lingering after-taste of Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs from your palette. Trust me.

Originally posted on July 6, 2008, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

Roy Colt and Winchester Jack (1970) Produzioni Atlas Consorziate (P.A.C.) :: Tigielle 33 / P: Luigi Alessi / D: Mario Bava / W: Mario di Nardo / C: Antonio Rinaldi, Mario Bava / E: Olga Pedrini / M: Piero Umiliani / S: Brett Halsey, Charles Southwood, Marilù Tolo, Teodoro Corrà