{"id":4170,"date":"2016-04-11T21:05:13","date_gmt":"2016-04-11T21:05:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/?p=4170"},"modified":"2016-03-28T21:05:40","modified_gmt":"2016-03-28T21:05:40","slug":"the-hills-run-red","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/reviews\/the-hills-run-red\/","title":{"rendered":"The Hills Run Red"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"The<\/a>
The Hills Run Red<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

It is the end of the civil war. Jerry Brewster (Thomas Hunter) and Ken Seagull (Nando Gazzolo) steal $100,000 from the Yankees. Unfortunately, their getaway plan goes badly wrong, and Jerry agrees to act as a decoy so that his friend can escape with the cash. All he asks in return is that his wife is given his share of the loot.<\/p>\n

Five (obviously tortuous, judging from the montage of pained expressions we\u2019re treated to whilst the credits roll) years later, Jerry is released from jail. He is, however, being watched. It turns out that Seagull has become a moneyed landowner, whose wealth has increased even further due to his underhand expansionist techniques (such as rustling cattle from his rival ranchers). The last thing he needs now is for his old chum to turn up and demand cash, not to mention the fact that he knows just how pissed Jerry\u2019s going to be when he discovers that his wife had died four years previously in a state of destitution. He orders his sidekick, Mendez (Henry Silva), to have some men dispatch him.<\/p>\n

Fortunately, and with the help of a saddle-tramp called Getz (Dan Duryea), Jerry manages to make short work of his assailants. Getz also agrees to infiltrate Seagull\u2019s gang. Knowing that he\u2019ll need some kind of proof if he\u2019s to claim that he\u2019s killed Jerry, he cuts off a tattoo from the ex-con\u2019s forearm, folds it daintily between two leaves and presents it to the rancher \u2013 who is suitably impressed with his flower pressing skills and hires him.\u00a0Meanwhile, Jerry is behaving with an astounding level of subtlety and manages to get into a big fight (which includes that old \u2018frying pan as weapon\u2019 staple) with Seagull\u2019s men. Despite himself, Mendez is impressed by the man\u2019s courage (\u2018you\u2019re a champion, and you don\u2019t kill champions \u2013 you race them!\u2019) and takes him under his wing. Of course, Jerry has his own plans, and immediately sets about helping the townsfolk reclaim what\u2019s rightfully theirs as well as planning his vengeance\u2026<\/p>\n

The Hills Run Red<\/strong>\u00a0is a rather mediocre production, which is especially disappointing considering that it comes from such an estimable team. Ennio Morricone, who contributes a good soundtrack (with the exception of a truly execrable saloon bar song), needs no introduction and talented filmmaker Carlo Lizzani would go on to score great successes with crime films like Wake Up and Kill<\/strong>\u00a0(66), B<\/strong>andits of Milan<\/strong>\u00a0(68) and Crazy Joe<\/strong>\u00a0(73). His other spaghetti western, Requiescant<\/strong>(67) is considerably weirder but also rather more effective. What they all do share is a certain overwrought quality; there\u2019s none of the laconic \u2018coolness\u2019 so prevalent within the genre here. Instead the hero isn\u2019t reluctant to break into a surge of primal screaming, smash up furniture in fit of pique or come out with lines such as \u2018I wanna see you spit out your soul!\u2019<\/p>\n

\"Henry<\/a>
Henry Silva in The Hills Run Red<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Indeed, this is the fundamental problem with the film: that Jerry Brewster is a rather annoying character on the whole. Whereas most spaghetti heroes just get on with the job and look good, this guy has to continually talk about it as well, which just isn\u2019t on. This is further hindered by the fact that Thomas Hunter isn\u2019t the most accomplished of actors, and yet is called upon to emote with a disheartening frequency. Additionally saddled with one of the worst dubbing jobs ever, this often creates a hilarious outcome.\u00a0Indeed, this is one of the few Italian films in which the American stars can be accused of overacting more than their European colleagues. Henry Silva turns in a performance that is, well, unique. Now I could watch Silva butter a slice of toast, frankly, so this is just dandy with me. Looking smoochie in a black leather outfit and cackling deliriously, he comes across as a cooler version of River Pheonix in Gladiator<\/strong>. He also has a death scene that is so over the top that it could almost be worthy of Klaus Kinski.<\/p>\n

Apart from these, however, most of the other characters are woefully underdeveloped. The gorgeous Nicoletta Machiavelli has a thankless role as Seagull\u2019s daughter, Geoffrey Coppleston pops up as a saloon owner and Dan Duryea proves that he\u2019s more boring than an academic dissection of 20th Century carpet designs. Worst of all, Loris Loddi, the \u2018orrible tyke from Maciste in King Solomon’s Mines<\/strong>, turns up and makes bizarre Masonic hand-signals at everyone for 45 minutes.<\/p>\n

Regnoli\u2019s script has potential, and some great baroque dialogue, but could really have done with something truly original to mark it out from the herd. There are some memorably nasty moments, most notably the aforementioned tattoo removal and a tasty knife through the hand sequence. However, the hokey ending is unforgivable. There is some indication that this was tacked on as an afterthought, which is all too believable.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Hills Run Red is a rather mediocre production, which is especially disappointing considering that it comes from such an estimable team. Ennio Morricone, who contributes a good soundtrack (with the exception of a truly execrable saloon bar song), needs no introduction and talented filmmaker Carlo Lizzani was already a respected name in the industry<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4234,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1212,8],"tags":[37,1268,1269,1267,1009],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4170"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4170"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4170\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4236,"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4170\/revisions\/4236"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4234"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4170"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4170"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.thewildeye.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4170"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}