Redux Reviews :: How the West was Weird: Shatner vs. Shatner in José Méndez's White Comanche (1968)

You'll know right off the bat you're in for a real gonzo treat of the cinematic variety when our Frijole Refritos Western cues up and the first thing we hear as our boy rides into frame is a canned wolf-howl culled from the archives of the Children's Television Workshop. Yee-HAW!

Now. Our boy is none other than William "Wild Bill" Shatner, who plays both the forlorn drifter, Johnny Moon, and his evil twin, Notah; a peyote-bogarting, no-goodnik renegade Comanche with a Messiah complex, who also has the local tribe stirred up and on the warpath. This, obviously, is the root-cause for much of our hero's forlornness and, tired of being mistaken for his outlaw brother by all the resulting lynch-mobs, Moon challenges Notah to an old-fashioned showdown to put at least one of them out of the other’s misery. When Notah initially waffles at this ultimatum, Moon says he'll be waiting in the nearby town of Rio Hondo when his brother changes his mind and finally settles things for good.

Of course, Rio Hondo is one of those western towns where two rival factions are trying to stamp each other out. And both sides feel a man with such skills as Moon could tip the scales in their favor. But, Moon has no interest in such matters, feeling there's a pretty good chance he'll be dead in a few days anyway; so everything else is kinda moot. Besides, he's too busy avoiding both the local sheriff (Cotten) and several shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later bounty hunters, and wooing the local saloon girl (Yanni) -- well, as soon as she stops trying to kill him, that is.

See, seems she was attacked and raped by Notah; and naturally, she at first mistakes Moon for the man who violated her. But then our boy loses his shirt and gives her that look -- you know the one I'm talking about ... Head slightly cocked to the side, a raised eyebrow, and the hint of a grin; a grin that knows all your untold secrets that's about to break wide-open. And soon enough, the girl is all hot and bothered to sample the *ahem* “Captain's Log."

Anyways ... Several soul-searching scenes, padded-out side-stories, including one concerning Notah's pregnant wife that must be seen to be truly believed, and about, oh, four or five massacres later, the film at last stumbles upon a climax, where Moon and Notah finally decide to settle things, Shatner-o a Shatner-o, in a deadly climactic duel / joust / game of armed chicken.

Also along for the ride in White Comanche (1968) was Joseph Cotten as the town sheriff; a salty veteran actor, who helped extend his career by running around all over Europe and adding his screen-cred to the likes of this, Lady Frankenstein (1971) and Baron Blood (1972). This was the second screen team-up for for Shatner and Cotten in 1968, who both co-starred in Phil Karlson and Robert Pirosh's equally jaw-dropping TV-movie adaptation of Alexander the Great (1968).

Truth told, that failed pilot was shot back in 1964 but was deemed too expensive and was shelved indefinitely -- only to be unearthed again when Shatner and Adam West, who also had a small but pivotal role in that oddball combo of The Rat Patrol meets the 300 Spartans (1962), became household names when their respective TV franchises, the Trek and the Bat, hit big. And it was during Star Trek's (1966-1969) second season hiatus that Shatner was lured over to Spain for this exploitation quickie; and judging by what we see on screen, I think they blew half the budget on the plane ticket just to get him over there.

As for Shatner’s other co-star, we have the stupefyingly gorgeous Rosanna Yanni. This Argentinian beauty broke into film with a few Paul Naschy fright flicks but is probably most remembered from when she teamed up with the equally eye-popping Janine Reynaud in Jess Franco's wonderfully demented Red Lips double-dip, Sadist Erotica (-- Two Undercover Angels, 1969), and Bésame monstruo (-- Kiss Me, Monster, 1969), where our two femme fatales play detectives / cat-burglars in a Danger: Diabolik (1968) vein and foil a couple of kidnapping plots as Franco piles on the eye-candy, kitschy decor, and swanky absurdity to such Herculean levels it's almost impossible to process it all. But, who cares! And by all means check them out!

Behind the camera four sets of hands had their fingers in the plot-pot for this oddity. Along with an uncredited assist by the film's director, José Briz Méndez, and Manuel Gómez Rivera, Robert Holt and Frank Gruber hammered out the script for Comanche Blanco -- a/k/a White Comanche a/k/a Rio Hondo; a script that takes all the basic elements of spaghetti westerns past and systematically checks them off as the story progresses passed each yard-stick.

I honestly thought Holt and Gruber were perhaps "American" names adopted by their Spanish counterparts to help it sell, but according to the IMDB the pair had a long and storied career writing for the old Boob-Tube. And although Méndez and cinematographer, Francisco Fraile, manage a few interesting setups they become a little too obsessed with some trick mirror shots that were cool the first three times they used it but began to wear thin by the seventh or eighth refraction. 

And adding even more to the surrealism of the proceedings is Jean Ledrut's plunky-guitar and horn-heavy soundtrack, which sounds like the interstitial muzak from some 1960s game show that was then cross-pollinated with a perky ditty from some vintage porn-loop. So, yeah, it doesn't fit the action or setting of White Comanche all that well.

But, you say, we're here for the Shatners, right? Right. As the ancient Hollywood proverb goes, "When you want somebody to play half-breed Comanche twins, you go for the Canadian Jew." Yeah, well, truthfully, though he veers into full-blown Smarmy McSmarmo mode more often than not, where he brings the Grade-A ham something fierce, especially during the fight scenes, our boy actually manages to bring some gravitas to the role of Johnny Moon. But as good as he is with that half of the equation Shatner totally screws the pooch with the other; as he portrays Notah with all the subtlety and nuance of a game of Whack-A-Mole.

Part of the problem lies with the script, which calls for a climax where we can't keep track of which twin is which during the deadly duel, which, in turn, also calls for Notah to be clean-shaven, clean-cut, with the perfect Wild Bill wave of hair, for all of his other scenes -- where, on top of all that hootin', hollerin', and war-whoop'n, his evil sneer makes him look like ... well, kind of an idiot.

I also think it's fair to warn potential viewers that even though a movie which promises and delivers William Shatner as belligerent half-breed Indian twins, White Comanche is not a whole can of lunacy from beginning to end. Expectation can be a bitch seldom satisfied, which is why, in the end, this film is a bit of a conundrum on the whole so bad it's good scale. Sure, there are some blinding flashes of whackadoodle stoopid to be found here; but in between those Notah interludes are a lot of dull stretches and soggy subplots to contend with and conquer. Just remember: when a movie sounds too good to be true it usually is. Keep that in mind when you pop this into your DVD player, and you should be good to go.

White Comanche a/k/a Comanche Blanco (1968) Producciones Cinematográficas A.B. :: International Producers Corporation / EP: Vicente Gómez, Philip N. Krasne / P: Sam White / AP: Bruce Yorke / D: José Briz Méndez, Gilbert Kay / W: José Briz Méndez, Manuel Gómez Rivera, Frank Gruber, Robert I. Holt / C: Francisco Fraile / E: Javier Morán, Gaby Peñalba, Nicholas Wentworth / M: Jean Ledrut / S: William Shatner, Joseph Cotten, Rosanna Yanni, Perla Cristal, Luis Rivera

Netflix'd :: Clearing Out the Instant Que :: Budd Boetticher's The Killer is Loose (1956)

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"Some day, Wagner, I'm gonna settle with you for it."

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Right before Budd Boetticher teamed up with Randolph Scott for Seven Men from Now, setting them on a seven film odyssey that helped define and redefine both of their careers, the director with a history of throwing nosy studio execs off of his sets by the scruff of their necks and the back of their belts ramrodded a crackerjack crime programmer for producer Robert Jacks and Crown Productions called The Killer is Loose.

Boetticher broke into the industry as a technical adviser for Tyrone Power, teaching him how to be a matador, something he'd mastered while living in Mexico, for the film, Blood and Sand. Paying attention to what went on behind the camera and in the editing room, Boetticher soon found himself in the director's chair, where he developed a deceptively simple style that was brutish, bleak and always to the point. His big break came when John Wayne asked him to direct The Bullfighter and the Lady for the famed actor's Batjac Productions -- where, according to legend, on the first day of filming the novice director had the balls to kick the Duke of the set for interfering with his set-ups. (However, Wayne would have the last word when the film was drastically re-edited before release.) And after a less than friendly run at Universal, where he helped cement Glenn Ford's career, but held no patience for the rigid studio system, Boetticher was soon out of a job. Enter Robert Jacks...

Story wise, The Killer is Loose is probably nothing you haven't seen before as the plot is fairly simple: When Leon Poole (Corey), a twitchy bank-teller, turns out to be the inside man in a robbery, he holes up in his apartment and refuses to surrender to the police. In the resulting shoot-out, his wife is accidentally killed in the crossfire before he's apprehended -- with Poole surrendering quietly as he attends to her body in a truly skin-crawling scene. After being convicted and sentenced, Poole swears that some day he'll get even with Detective Sam Wagner (Cotten), who pulled the trigger. Sure enough, several years later, the convict engineers his escape and, with a promise to keep, Poole heads back to his old stomping grounds. But his goal is not to kill Wagner. No. His goal is to make him suffer as he has suffered -- by murdering Wagner's wife!

Sure, there's also a standard subplot about Wagner's wife, Lila (Fleming), not wanting to be detective's widow, begging him to quit his job before something like this happens. And, of course, his efforts to protect her backfire and, actually, leaves her more vulnerable to this violent sociopath. But, that's just background noise and will do nothing to distract you from the main action. Wendell Corey is absolutely mesmerizing as Poole, playing him as a slow, deliberate, and stone-faced cipher that makes his sudden eruptions of violence both more startling and, somehow, more believable. As for our main couple, Boetticher once more butted heads with his star, Rhonda Fleming, to tone down the glamour -- she was playing a cop's wife, after all. She reluctantly agreed, and would later thank him for his efforts and allowing her to act beyond her usual trappings. Cotten is as solid as ever, and it won't take sharp eyes to recognize B-movie stalwarts Alan Hale Jr., Michael Pate and William Hudson as part of Wagner's goon squad

Scripted by John and Ward Hawkins, the film really feels like an extended episode of one of those gritty TV crime dramas of the late 1950's, which would make sense since the Hawkins brothers wrote for almost all of them. Behind the camera, Lucien Ballard's fluid and voyeuristic lens always seem to be perfectly placed to heighten Boetticher's unflinching intentions. (Ballard, of course, would go on to infamy in a series of westerns with Sam Peckinpah.) And together, in just fifteen shooting days, they all produced a tight little thriller that you all need to see.

The Killer is Loose (1956) Crown Productions :: United Artists / P: Robert L. Jacks / D: Budd Boetticher / W: Harold Medford, John Hawkins, Ward Hawkins  / C: Lucien Ballard / E: George A. Gittens / M: Lionel Newman / S: Joseph Cotten, Rhonda Fleming, Wendell Corey, Alan Hale Jr., Michael Pate, Dee J. Thompson, John Larch

Shields Up! There's a Blogathon on the Starboard Bow! Set Phasers on Post! :: Shatner Being Shatner x Two : White Comanche (1968)

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"When you want somebody to play half-breed
Comanche twins, you go for the Canadian Jew." x

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx-- An Ancient Hollywood Proverb
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ __

You'll know right off the bat that you're in for a real gonzoidal cinematic treat when our Frijole Refritos Western cues up and the first thing we hear as our boy rides into frame is a canned wolf-howl culled from the archives of the Children's Television Workshop. Yeehaw!


The long and the short of it: Wild Bill Shatner plays both the forlorn drifter Johnny Moon and his evil twin, Notah; a peyote-bogarting, no-goodnik renegade Comanche with a Messiah complex, who has the local tribe stirred up and on the warpath. This, obviously, is the root-cause for much of our hero's forlornness, and, tired of being mistaken for his outlaw brother by all the resulting lynch-mobs, Moon challenges Notah to an old-fashioned shoot-out to put at least one of them out of the others misery.


When Notah initially waffles at this ultimatum, Moon says he'll be waiting in the nearby town of Rio Hondo if his brother changes his mind to finally settle things. Of course, Rio Hondo is one of those western towns where two rival factions are trying to stamp each other out. And both sides feel a man with such skills as Moon could tip the scales in their favor. But, Moon has no real interest in such matters, feeling there's a pretty good chance he'll be dead in a few days anyway, so everything else is kinda moot. Besides, he's too busy avoiding both the local sheriff and several shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later bounty hunters, and wooing the local saloon girl -- after she stops trying to kill him. See, seems she was raped and pillaged by Notah, and, naturally, she at first mistakes Moon for the man who attacked her. But then our boy loses his shirt and gives her that look -- you know the one I'm talking about ... Head slightly cocked to the side, a raised eyebrow, and the hint of a grin, a grin that knows all your untold secrets that's about to break wide-open -- and, soon enough, the girl is all hot and bothered to sample the *ahem* Captain's Log.


Anyways ... Several soul-searching scenes, padded side-stories, including one concerning Notah's pregnant wife that must be seen to be truly believed, and about, oh, four or five massacres later, the film stumbles upon the climax, where Moon and Notah decide to settle things, Shatner-o a Shatner-o, in a deadly climactic duel / joust / game of armed chicken...


Along for the ride with our boy, Shatner, are the salty veteran Joseph Cotten as the sheriff, who helped extend his career by running around all over Europe and adding his screen-cred to the likes of this, Baron Blood and Lady Frankenstein, and the sock-knocking beauty of Rosanna Yanni as the prerequisite love interest. More on her in a second, but this was the second on-screen team up for Shatner and Cotten in 1968, who co-starred in Phil Karlson and Robert Pirosh's equally jaw-dropping adaptation of Alexander the Great. Truth be told, that tele-film was shot back in 1964 but was such a train-wreck it was shelved indefinitely; only to be unearthed again when Shatner and Adam West, who also had a pivotal role in that deliriously awesome fiasco, became household names when their respective TV franchises, the Trek and the Bat, hit big. And it was during Star Trek's second season hiatus that Shatner was lured over to Spain for this exploitation quickie; and judging by what we see on screen I think they blew half the budget on the plane ticket to get him over there.


Yanni, meanwhile, was an Argentinian beauty who broke into film with a few Paul Naschy fright flicks but is probably most remembered from when she teamed up with the equally eye-popping Janine Reynaud in Jesus Franco's wonderfully demented Red Lips double-dip, Sadist Erotica (a/k/a Two Undercover Angels) and Bésame monstruo (a/k/a Kiss Me, Monster), where our two femme fatales play detectives / cat-burglars in a Diabolik vein and foil a couple of kidnapping plots as Franco piles on the eye-candy, kitschy decor, and swanky absurdity to such Herculean levels it's almost impossible to process it all. But, who cares; and by all means check them out!


Behind the camera four sets of hands had their fingers in the plot-pot for this oddball oddity. Along with an uncredited Méndez and Rivera, Robert Holt and Frank Gruber hammered out the script for Comanche Blanco a/k/a White Comanche a/k/a Rio Hondo; a script that takes all the basic elements of spaghetti westerns past and systematically checks them off as the story progresses past each yard-stick. I honestly thought Holt and Gruber were perhaps "American" names adopted by their Spanish counterparts to help it sell, but, according to the IMDB, the pair had a long and storied career writing for the old Boob-Tube. Adding to the surreality of the proceedings is Jean Ledrut's plunky-guitar and horn-heavy soundtrack that sounds like the interstitial muzak from some 1960's game show that was cross-pollinated with a ditty from a vintage porn-loop. So, yeah, it doesn't fit the action or setting of Comanche Blanco all that well. And although Méndez and cinematographer Francisco Fraile manage a few interesting set-ups they become a little too obsessed with some trick mirror shots that were cool the first three times they used it but began to wear thin by the seventh or eighth refraction:


But, you say, we're here for the Shatner, right? Right. Okay, well, truthfully, though he veers into full-blown Captain Kirk mode more often than not, where he brings the Grade-A ham, especially during the fight scenes, our boy actually manages to bring some gravitas to the role of Johnny Moon. But as good as he is with that half of the equation Shatner totally screws the pooch with the other, as he portrays Notah with all the subtlety and nuance of a game of Whack-A-Mole. Part of the problem lies with the script, which calls for a climax where we can't keep track of which twin is which during the deadly duel, which, in turn, also calls for Notah to be clean-shaven, clean-cut, with the perfect Wild Bill wave of hair, for all of his other scenes -- where, on top of all that hootin', hollerin', and war-whoop'n, his evil sneer makes him look like ... well, kind of an idiot.


I also think it's fair to warn potential viewers that even though a movie that promises and delivers William Shatner as belligerent half-breed Indian twins White Comanche is not a whole can of lunacy from beginning to end. Expectation can be a harsh mistress seldom satisfied, which is why, in the end, this film is a bit of conundrum on the whole so bad it's good scale. Sure, there are some blinding flashes of stoopid to be found here; but in between those Notah interludes are a lot of dull stretches and soggy subplots to contend with and conquer. Just remember: when a movie sounds too good to be true it usually is. Keep that in mind when you pop this into your DVD player and you should be good to go.


Alas, this post is my final entry for Stacia's Shatnerthon Blogathon over at the delightful She Blogged by Night. Be sure to click on over and check out all the other contributions. Fantastic stuff.


White Comanche a/k/a Comanche Blanco (1968) Producciones Cinematográficas A.B. :: International Producers Corporation / EP: Vicente Gómez, Philip N. Krasne / P: Sam White / AP: Bruce Yorke / D: José Briz Méndez, Gilbert Kay / W: José Briz Méndez, Manuel Gómez Rivera, Frank Gruber, Robert I. Holt / C: Francisco Fraile / E: Javier Morán, Gaby Peñalba, Nicholas Wentworth / M: Jean Ledrut / S: William Shatner, Joseph Cotten, Rosanna Yanni, Perla Cristal, Luis Rivera