For a while there we were congratulating ourselves for finding a Regalscope movie worth watching. Interesting players, an intriguingly novel and promisingly suspenseful plot situation, and above all, atmospheric photography abetted by a director who knew how to compose his images forcefully for the wide-wide screen and how to move his camera dramatically through the back-lot western streets.
Alas, at the very point when you might truly say, "And this is where the story really starts!" — at this very point where all the initial plot elements fall firmly into place with the townsmen shooting up the photographer's studio and thus forcing our boorish hero to stay in the town, this is where the picture falls apart.
How? You guessed it: a tiresome love interest is introduced. The girl is played by newcomer Fintan Meyler, her making the third of three movie appearances. She never made another film after this effort, but of course she did have a sizable career on TV — and no wonder! She's certainly no looker, plus she's as torpid and colorless as a wax dummy, fresh from the mold. And that's the exact sort of woman that sponsors like on TV. She doesn't take audience interest away from the commercials.
Hero Bronson is no bargain either. Not only is his acting strictly on the one surly note throughout, but enormous emphasis is given to the "fact" that he is short. In fact, he tells Fintan this is the very reason he turned to bounty hunting.
Well, I hate to disagree with Charlie Bronson, but I don't think of him as a little squirt at all. Even judging his stature by this movie, he looks pretty average size to me. I never thought of him as an Alan Ladd type, so all this neurotic talk about what a sawn-off half-pint he is, made no sense at all to me. All it did was waste so much time that when the climax with the showdown finally did roll around, it took an effort to wake up from my stupor and re-focus my attention.
A large slice of close-ups handed to Argentina Brunetti didn't help either. She's such a hammy actress, even a small serving of Brunetti is enough to put you off a picture.
Whilst the camera-hogging Bronson, Brunetti and Meyler are boring us all to distraction, director Fowler is resting from his labors. Gone are the tight, widescreen compositions and the moodily prowling camera-work. Instead it's close-ups all the way. And such faces! Even Carradine turns out to be a bit of a bore. The only really decent player, Henry, is killed off in the first few minutes.
A bit of action at the climax doesn't compensate for all the seemingly endless verbiage that lies between.
Alas, at the very point when you might truly say, "And this is where the story really starts!" — at this very point where all the initial plot elements fall firmly into place with the townsmen shooting up the photographer's studio and thus forcing our boorish hero to stay in the town, this is where the picture falls apart.
How? You guessed it: a tiresome love interest is introduced. The girl is played by newcomer Fintan Meyler, her making the third of three movie appearances. She never made another film after this effort, but of course she did have a sizable career on TV — and no wonder! She's certainly no looker, plus she's as torpid and colorless as a wax dummy, fresh from the mold. And that's the exact sort of woman that sponsors like on TV. She doesn't take audience interest away from the commercials.
Hero Bronson is no bargain either. Not only is his acting strictly on the one surly note throughout, but enormous emphasis is given to the "fact" that he is short. In fact, he tells Fintan this is the very reason he turned to bounty hunting.
Well, I hate to disagree with Charlie Bronson, but I don't think of him as a little squirt at all. Even judging his stature by this movie, he looks pretty average size to me. I never thought of him as an Alan Ladd type, so all this neurotic talk about what a sawn-off half-pint he is, made no sense at all to me. All it did was waste so much time that when the climax with the showdown finally did roll around, it took an effort to wake up from my stupor and re-focus my attention.
A large slice of close-ups handed to Argentina Brunetti didn't help either. She's such a hammy actress, even a small serving of Brunetti is enough to put you off a picture.
Whilst the camera-hogging Bronson, Brunetti and Meyler are boring us all to distraction, director Fowler is resting from his labors. Gone are the tight, widescreen compositions and the moodily prowling camera-work. Instead it's close-ups all the way. And such faces! Even Carradine turns out to be a bit of a bore. The only really decent player, Henry, is killed off in the first few minutes.
A bit of action at the climax doesn't compensate for all the seemingly endless verbiage that lies between.