I'll Kill You, and Recommend You to God Review
From The Spaghetti Western Database
Revision as of 14:46, 1 April 2017 by Tiratore Scelto
I'll Kill You, and recommend You to God - See Database Page
Director: Osvaldo Civirani - Cast: George Hilton, John Ireland, Gordon Mitchell, Sandra Milo, Piero Vida, Franco Ressel, Monica Pardo, Andrea Scotti, Mimmo Palmara, Giovanni Ivan Scratuglia, Roberto Messina - Music: Angelo Francesco Lavagnino
Pretending to be a priest, Glenn Reno (George Hilton) helps his friend Roy Fulton (Gordon Mitchell) to arrange a false funeral for him and hide Fulton’s bank robbery loot into his coffin. Two rapacious bandits “The Portugese” (Piero Vida) and “The Colonel” (John Ireland) also want to lay their hands on the money and this leads to a series of changing alliances and double-crossings…
Not frequently does one incur a movie which is lackluster to the degree that it's virtually impossible to find anything enjoyable about it. Unfortunately, T'ammazzo! - Raccomandati a Dio (1968) is an absurdly generic movie which could have easily been ameliorated with a couple of bizarre characters and a certain dose of ludicrousness, but director Osvaldo Civirani steers the entire wreck in the most unappealing way possible. What makes things worse, is that the movie cannot even decide whether it wants to be a slapstick comedy, a soap opera or a western.
This sleep-inducing movie opens up with a slick tracking shot which is promptly eclipsed by a completely unimaginatively staged shootout. Subsequently the director brusquely proceeds to the cheesily scored opening credits reminiscent more of a cartoon than a western in its extortionately gleeful tone. The initial tracking shot whet one’s appetite for something prepossessing and adroit but the film deteriorates into an orgy of slapstick scenes involving a pseudo-comedic gunman “The Portugese” whose introduction comes about as subtle as thudding one’s head with a truncheon. The first foray into slapstick comedy is as awkward as the entire film itself in its endeavour to pander to its audience. You’d better take delight in actors wallowing in mud, for nothing else in this pedestrian ensemble is going to prove more rewarding. Even though some of the unsophisticated transitions might be explicated by the fact that my copy is seemingly 13 minutes shorter than the uncut version, coarse camerawork, seamy appearance, conceptual deficiency, very diffused, sluggish narration and lame dialogues constitute a sufficient argumentation to state that the effort is not very deftly crafted.
The venture likewise appears to be striving to become some sort of tension-driven thriller, but its suspense is more proximate to a lullaby. Leaping from one place to another, the piece remains exceptionally static and yawn-inducing in its somnolent nature. The exposition of Hilton’s character is immensely contrived and artificial too, as the actor is coerced into talking to himself about things he already knows which conspicuously might be clarified by claiming that the man attempts to wreak his rage, but Hilton haranguing to a pile of mud looks somewhat unnatural to me. Once the director runs out of ideas, he resorts to employing “bewildering” twists and purloining miscellaneous elements from far better movies such as leaving a man without a horse in the midst of a desert (which is crassly embodied by a sandpit in this flick).
The motion picture only occasionally works on account of its leading actors’ charm, particularly John Ireland and George Hilton. Although these moments with Ireland and Hilton might not be spectacularly superior to the remainder of the work, at least they were mildly amusing, albeit in an excessively old-fashioned manner. Anyway, it successively relapses into tedium inasmuch as three bandits and the central femme fatale played by Sandra Milo chase after one another and the person who is pursued ceaselessly roves around with no purpose whatsoever which prodigiously enervates the already tenuous and humdrum plot. Apart from aforementioned faults, the dinner sequence displaying George Hilton and Sandra Milo is one of the most gratuitously protracted, abhorrent and abysmally crafted scenes I’ve seen in a while as well as a torture to sit through.
There are a lot of familiar faces in the cast and they're virtually all wasted. John Ireland proficiently conveys a portion of charisma into this unremarkable spaghetti western, while George Hilton successfully exhibits his comedic flair which intermittently elevates the pervasively flawed film. I am forced to say that Piero Vida often gets on my nerves, as his grotesque role only enhances my aversion towards his unfunny performance which adds absolutely nothing to the opus. One is also bound to spot faces of Franco Ressel, who impersonates a covetous bank owner Hartman, attractive Sandra Milo and Mimmo Palmara.
Osvaldo Civirani’s cinematography is as flimsy as the direction, forasmuch as Civriani tends to film the events on the screen in a very ordinary way by exploiting a great deal of tracking shots which initially appear quite refreshing, but gradually become clichéd and pall on its audience. Likewise, the way the action is filmed and edited leaves loads of dissatisfaction. The main theme by Angelo Francesco Lavagnino is astoundingly frustrating with its unusually joyous melody, as it seems to be cut out for a comedy, whilst other tracks are far more pertinent, still very pedestrian though.
The flick by Osvaldo Civirani is an astonishingly inert western, bereft of any kind of creativity, style or purpose. Only some spaghetti western fanatics might find something engrossing about this snoozer. Quelle horreur, what a boredom.
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