Cry Blood, Apache

I'd heard this was one of the worst movies ever, but it's just cheap and mediocre. (How disappointing.) It's no worse than much of the era's drive-in era genre cheapies, particularly the sexploitation, biker and horror ones--though I guess by this point it was a fairly rare low-budget western, since that genre pretty much dying out (big-budget exceptions like "True Grit" aside).

Some 19th-century longhaired white cretins rape and murder a small village of Apaches, taking one woman hostage when she promises to take them to a gold mine. When the a young Apache warrior returns home (he'd been absent during this slaughter), he tracks and methodically kills the brutes.

This movie is kinda like a non-graphic version the same time period's porn semi-classic "A Dirty Western"--though what passed for high production values in a porn flick looks pretty low-grade in a mainstream feature. (There's only so much rugged-landscape location shooting can do for an otherwise micro-budgeted movie.) It's all about abduction, loutish behavior and righteous vengeance. Jody McCrea plays the "nice" member of the gang, who tries to save the "squaw" from further rape and violence; his dad Joel cameos as the character many years later, remembering these grim events.

You've got to wonder if McCrea Sr. (in his next-to-last role) had any idea just how sordid much of "Cry Blood, Apache" would be, since the sleazy aura early on is so at odds with the wholesome image he'd preserved as a Hollywood star. McCrea Jr., in his sole effort at producing, is OK--but he sure was cuter as Deadhead in those "Beach Party" movies.

Nonetheless, this movie isn't so bad. It's got a professional orchestral score, decent technical contributions, adequate pacing, OK stunt work, picturesque high/low-desert locations, and competent direction from Jack Starrett, who played the hypocritically evangelical "Deacon and would go on to direct a fair number of TV episodes ("Starsky & Hutch," "Dukes of Hazard") as well as TV movies and second-rung theatrical ones ("Cleopatra Jones," "The Gravy Train," "Race with the Devil").

Yes, those adjectives are pretty tepid. No stretch of the imagination can make "Cry Blood, Apache" good. But t'ain't THAT bad. It's just drive-in routine, circa 1970, with dialogue largely dubbed in post. Actually, it gets better as it goes on, particularly in late vengeful stretches that reach for tragedy and irony--they don't memorably reach either, but they're effective enough in melodramatic terms. (There's a particularly nasty death by rattlesnake.) Still, the ending is corny.

Big bearded "Billy" was the father of child star Dawn Lyn ("My Three Sons") and teen idol Leif Garrett.

If there are any tears to be shed with Cry Apache Blood they will be from the abused souls who end up watching this pitifully soulless movie! My first mistake was thinking that because it had Joel McCrea's name on it, perhaps it should at least be looked at out of curiosity but, not so. I doubt that Joel would have looked at this mess & if he did - would have been ashamed of it. What is clearly a charitable act of lending his name to help promote his son's production (who displays less character than his dads shadow) turns out to be a sad blotch on his own sterling career. This thoroughly sordid mess offers no redeeming features, it's wretchedly written, acted and photographed - vile in every department. Even if found in an op shop for $1- stay away from it lest ye be brain damaged forever after. For the desperately easily pleased only. Note: Joel (who has top billing!) has all of approx three minutes - within a worthlessly tacked-on- top-and-tail that can only qualify as the ultimate, shameful exploitation. If you want to see him in one last quality attempt take a look at "Mustang Country" from '76 - where it appears more likely he may have been coaxed out of retirement, one last time, in an attempt to redeem himself from his son's moronic disaster.

Poor Joel McCrea who couldn't leave the screen on a high note like Randolph Scott in Ride the High Country. He had to come back to play a cameo in a film his son Jody produced and starred in.

Jody had a minor career in the 60s in those beach films. He had gotten a break playing a deputy in a short-lived television series called Wichita Town that starred his father as a sheriff. He never really established himself and I guess Cry Blood, Apache was a last effort.

IT's just bad all around, bad acting, bad directing, lousy script that god awful music that punctuates all foreign made westerns.

Joel should have just stayed on his ranch.

Even though he only appears in the movie for scant minutes and scarcely says a word, this has to easily qualify as Joel McCrea's worst film. His otherwise notable career is tarnished by his appearance in this dreadful mess (a favor, one has to assume, for his son who produced the disaster.) The story, if one can even call it that, concerns a band of repugnant, annoying, filthy drifters who terrorize and mostly kill off a small family of Indians. They keep one girl alive so that she can show them to a place where gold exists. The audience can tell that Jody McCrea (utterly lacking in any screen charisma) is the "good guy" of the piece because instead of raping, butchering or torturing any of the Indians, he sits on a rock and watches it all. He develops sympathy for the female hostage as the gritty group fights amongst itself on the way to the gold. Two of the actors in the film also directed and assistant directed it. Starrett apparently couldn't say goodbye to all his extended scenes of himself overacting and meandering around meaninglessly. The whole film has a plethora of shots of people walking or riding endlessly. Meanwhile, a lone Indian, who had been away during the slaughter, tracks the group. This tall native has an interesting outfit. He wears a long-sleeved peasant blouse over a very narrow loincloth that shows practically all of his behind. He lurches through the terrain with all the style and grace of say.......a filling station attendant at a Boron gas station in Columbus, Ohio. One hilarious sequence has him careening into a violent river. The film is uncomfortable to watch for various reasons. The opening scenes are sadistic and thoughtlessly cruel. The bulk of it is just amateurish and badly written, shot and directed. The one rather interesting aspect is the choice of revenge that the lone Indian chooses for his enemies. It is only in these various depictions of the payback he gives each of the men that the movie shows any amount of creativity or life. It is also rewarding for the audience since, by the time the Indian catches up to them, these characters have become positively unbearable. Henley, during his final sequence, is so agonizing that one wants to reach through the TV and kill him personally. The music is also abominable in the movie. The whole thing is ludicrous, trashy, cheap, choppy and worst of all boring.

It was an unexpected sight seeing Robert Tessier with flowing locks. It's usually little to no hair from what I remember seeing. Other than that, not much else had my interest in Jack Starrett's dusty, crude and very plodding revenge western of an Apache warrior hunting down a couple of cowboys who killed his tribe, and the only survivor leading them to a gold mine.

Long, dry stretches of idle chat, in-fighting and horse-riding takes up most the time before the Apache catches up. This story is seen through flashbacks, by one of the cowboys (you know, the only one who had morals), now an elderly man deciding to reminisce about the whole ordeal while travelling the same path. Yeah, it's not worth the reminiscing, and I don't know why he would want to?