1968: Eurocrime hits the US

When MGM elected to release Michelangelo Antonioni's controversial Blow-Up (1966) without the approval of the Motion Picture Production Code, it sounded the latest death knell for the archaic 'Hays Code', which had already been weakened by films like Sidney Lumet's The Pawnbroker (1965). Within two years such censorship had disappeared from U.S. cinemas: not only did more sexually explicit material become acceptable, but importantly for the booming spaghetti western and Eurocrime genres, more graphic levels of violence were also permitted. Whilst most of this output remained on the tail end of grindhouse double-bills a few European genre directors had a shot at international success, with investment from major studios allowing them to continue their experimentation with classic American genres, only now on American soil.


Of the lucky few only John Boorman and the late Peter Yates managed any kind of sustained Hollywood career, but as acres of opinion have been devoted to Point Blank (1967) and Bullitt (1968) over the years, it's interesting to reflect on the fortunes of their contemporaries. Along with Boorman and Yates, Gordon Flemyng, Duccio Tessari, and Antonio Isasi all attempted to create a Hollywood gangster film with European sensibilities and aesthetics between 1967 and '68, and each is certainly worth a look in this context.




Gordon Flemyng, like Peter Yates came from a background of television action series, and like John Boorman was given his shot by MGM. The studio held the rights to Donald E. Westlake's series of 'Parker' novels (written under the pseudonym Richard Stark), from which Point Blank (formerly known as The Hunter) had been adapted. The Split (1968) would be the first 'R' rated film under the new MPAA rating system and was based on Westlake's novel The Seventh, which concerned a plan to rob the box office of the Los Angeles Coliseum during a Rams game. Though the heist itself is perfectly executed, sweaty rapist/killer James Whitmore stumbles upon the cash and puts gang leader Jim Brown on the spot when his cohorts want their share of the loot...

Flemyng directed with striking efficiency, and though the film is slightly more set-bound than Boorman's, he still managed to make excellent use of well-chosen locations for the action sequences, from the packed Coliseum to a deserted freighter, backdrop to the violent finale. Some great Panavision framing is complimented well by the slightly washed-out Metrocolor palate, and Quincy Jones' proto-blaxploitation soundtrack underscores the action nicely. The film also stands as a true testament to the power of the studio system, assembling a veritable who's who of character actors to portray Brown's gang of thieves: arms expert and thug Ernest Borgnine, getaway driver Jack Klugman, womanizing safecracker Warren Oates, and Donald Sutherland as a particularly menacing sniper feature amongst others.

Sadly The Split probably does add up to less than the sum of it's parts, though it's difficult to pin down exactly why. Regardless, the critics weren't convinced and nor were audiences. After an offbeat adaptation of Shaw's Great Catherine (1968) and the flawed but interesting actioner The Last Grenade (1970), it was back to TV for Flemyng: how to go from Hollywood to Emmerdale in three big films...

Duccio Tessari was no slouch. In a sea of Italian genre directors whose output varied wildly from one film to the next, Tessari was one you could rely upon: his name might not often be quoted alongside those of the two Sergios, Leone and Corbucci, the westerns he wrote and directed - especially the two Ringo films - are every bit as significant as those of his more feted contemporaries. Though comparatively not the most visually stylish director, his films were generally distinguished by multi-faceted characterizations and his ability to lend a fresh perspective, and often humour, to familiar situations. It's a bit of a cheat for me to include Tessari's I Bastardi (aka Sons of Satan; 1968) here as technically it was an entirely European production, however given that it was shot in New Mexico, and released internationally by Warner Brothers/Seven Arts I reckon it applies. Unfortunately the Warner distribution has made any real criticism of the film very difficult, for very little of it actually remains to evaluate - about 70 of the original 102 minutes, in fact - and that's courtesy of a widely bootlegged Japanese television broadcast, with little remaining colour and the obligatory panning and scanning. There was, I believe, an uncut German VHS release, though this, sadly, has never made it to trading circles, and given the overly inflated prices demanded by German ebay traders it's unlikely ever to do so. But, returning to the film itself, it concerns two brothers, Jason played by Giuliano Gemma (star of the Ringo films, and a Tessari regular) and Adam (Klaus Kinski), both of whom earn a living from jewelry heists and both of whom is utterly devoted to their childish, alcoholic mother played by Rita Hayworth. Neither however is the most sympathetic of characters, with Gemma liquidating accomplices, and Kinski pulling his usual trick of simultaneously appearing both kindly yet deeply menacing. Indeed, with a genuine absence of fraternal affection, Kinski figures little brother is getting a bit too rich and successful, so decides to make-off with the proceeds of his latest job, his girl (played by the gorgeous Margaret Lee) and, to prevent any thoughts of revenge, permanently disable his right hand - sparing his life only for the sake of their mother. Naturally Gemma doesn't take too kindly to all this, and after being rescued by comely landowner Claudine Auger, sets out on a bloody vengeance trail, his crippled hand proving no disability when it comes to using a machine gun. And that's where the plotting gets a little muddy, thanks to the scissor-happy editor...

As has been noted elsewhere, the film is clearly a western transposed to a modern setting - a western looking one at that - not necessarily a bad thing, but an environment that leaves the stylish, urbane characters looking rather out-of-place; and whilst it's refreshing to find no clear-cut hero in a film, in this instance we are presented with two such odious protagonists that it's difficult to care who kills who, leaving Margaret Lee's duplicitous femme fatale the only real 'baddie'. So, Tessari's brutal gangster epic remains something of a mystery: certainly an interesting film, though with clear flaws - perhaps a restored version would reveal greatness within, but somehow I'm not convinced. Nevertheless, Tessari continued to produce an enjoyably diverse selection of films into the1980's, and at worst I Bastardi should be considered a highly individualistic piece, which compares favourably with better known crime films of the period.

More often than not, when one spends years searching for a film, the end result is disappointment. I've known many such disappointments: the aforementioned The Last Grenade being one of the best examples: Dark of the Sun (1968), it certainly ain't; then there was Sergio Sollima's Run, Man, Run (1968), somehow better served by grainy 80 minute bootlegs, than Blue Underground's pristine 120 minute print, which revealed only a lack of script and the true importance of reigning in Tomas Milian's comedic instincts. Thankfully there have been notable exceptions: John Guillermin's tough detective thriller P.J. (1968) was worth every minute of the decade long search, as was Peter Collinson's war drama The Long Day's Dying (1968), which Paramount might want to consider as an alternative to their ninety-fifth re-release of the director's subsequent film, The Italian Job. The best example however, has to be Antonio Isasi Isasmendi's They Came to Rob Las Vegas (aka Las Vegas, 500 milliones;1968) my quest for which happily ended with not a penny having been spent (aside from on a Sky television subscription, that is). They Came to Rob Las Vegas (TCTRLV from here on) is clearly the writer/director's attempt to craft the ultimate Hollywood-style heist film, from the casting of quintessential genre stars, to the staccato dialogue (with a few brilliantly hip sixties flourishes thrown in) and the self-consciously noir-ish atmospherics.

The plot concerns professional thief Tony Ferris' mission for revenge against the armoured car firm who mercilessly gunned down his brother during a foiled robbery attempt. The brother, Gino having been sprung from jail, attempts to persuade Tony to help him hold-up one of the supposedly impenetrable Skorsky armoured cars - Tony warns him times have changed, that he needs a better plan, but Gino ignores him with fatal consequences. Thereafter Tony becomes obsessed with planning the perfect and most ingenious heist, to steal not only Skorsky's money, but to destroy his unbroken security record. Unfortunately for him, both the Mafia and the Treasury have a vested interest in recovering the cargo.

For fans of style over substance TCTRLV is a practically flawless viewing experience, perhaps the quintessential action/heist film of its period - stylistically, Jules Dassin's brilliant Topkapi (1964) looks about twenty years older. Casting-wise Gary Lockwood - perhaps the coolest man in the world circa 1968 - is riveting as the increasingly unhinged Tony, for whom nothing but the opening of the truck is important, Elke Sommer looks suitably glamorous as the love interest, whilst Lee J. Cobb as Skorsky and Jack Palance as a Treasury agent lend weighty support. Being a Franco/Italian/Spanish/German co-production the supporting cast is unsurprisingly varied: Eurospy star Roger Hanin crops up as a mafia boss, whilst the great Georges Geret joins Gustavo Re and Maurizio Arena as members of Tony's gang. Rififi (Jules Dassin; 1954) star Jean Servais' guest appearance as brother Gino really adds a greater resonance to the piece - though outdated methods prove his downfall, he is ultimately proven correct in his swift assessment of Tony's accomplices: the selfish younger generation lack the necessary discipline and professionalism to see the job through.

The film is a tour de force for Isasi and cinematographer Juan Gelpy, whose almost motionless camera imprisons the protagonists even in the expanses of the Nevada desert. The total reliance upon precision framing and rapid cutting during the action sequences a masterclass in economic directorial skill (take note, Michael Bay). Frankly it would be unthinkable for a modern action film to be shot in such an overtly stylized manner - let's face it, if you don't move the camera even during dialogue sequences there's the chance that today's audience might nod off - here there are, at most, four or five brief panning shots (excepting the helicopter sequences) in the entire 125 minute running time, although it must be said that whilst I applaud Isasi's aesthetic decision, I know others who have found it difficult to bear. Also worthy of mention is the fine score by Georges Garvarentz, though it's unfortunate that the album omits the music heard in the pre-title nightclub scene, as it's probably the best track in the film.

Isasi's next film, the equally ambitious The Summertime Killer (1973) starring Christopher Mitchum as the vengeful son of a slain mafioso, proved something of a disappointment - albeit a stylish one - and was the last of his sporadic output to be so widely distributed. In the late seventies he would retire from directing, turning his attentions to production, and in more recent years he has served on the jury of festivals such as Berlin and San Sebastian. Gary Lockwood meanwhile would collaborate with another great European director, Jacques Demy, for his next film, The Model Shop (1969) before an unfathomably rapid descent into small-screen obscurity. Pity.

The vogue for importing European directors appeared to wane during the seventies, likely due to the younger generation of groundbreaking and Euro-film literate American directors who swept through Hollywood. They would ultimately topple the studio regime, only to rebuild it for their own profit during the 1980s, simultaneously ending widespread distribultion of the very films that had inspired them - a grumble I'll save for a later date...