Duccio Tessari
Tex e il Signore degli Abissi

There is something very close to wonder in seeing in the flesh, and in motion, one's own myths of the imagination; the cinematic triumph of Harry Potter is the latest proof of this. On a receptive level, probably, the image gives us greater temporary satisfaction; but it is undeniable that cinema contains within it something "wonderful," something surprising. I believe that we all, in short, carry within us the legacy of those who fled the screening room because the train was heading toward the audience...

When the frame refers to the cartoon, the connection becomes familiar, consanguineous, and our wonder is accommodated by habit; in comics, imagination bonds the stillness of the drawing with the becoming of action, just as in cinema we connect times and points of view into a single, grand continuum. Not to mention that even when watching a movie, we "link" still images, precisely twenty-five per second... In short, this wonder manages to make its way even in the face of one of the least convincing cinematic transpositions any comic book character has ever encountered. Certainly, we are higher up compared to Vivarelli's "Satanik," just to name one among too many, but this "Tex and the Lord of the Abyss" still leaves us with a question, indeed two: "why?" and above all "why in this way?".

Based on the long and intricate story told by Gianluigi Bonelli in issues 101, 102, and 103 of the regular series, this film dated 1985 has the double, oversized ambition of pleasing both the paper fans of Tex Willer and riding the wave of the two Spielbergian super toys dedicated to the archaeologist Indiana Jones (the splendid "Raiders of the Lost Ark" of 1981 and, three years later, its amusing prequel "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom").  In light of this conjunction with the temples and Hollywood human sacrifices, the choice of RAI production to adapt for Tex a story that, from its comic origin, presents the setting but not the soul of the western; a group of Aztec revolters uses terrible mummifying stones to sow death among the white usurpers. In a cave in the abyss, amid lava and bats, a mysterious hooded being works tirelessly to extract the sinister deadly weapon from the depths. Meanwhile, during an investigation into arms trafficking, Tex and his adventure companions learn about the natives' revolt plans and take it upon themselves to shed light on the story, eventually finding the infernal cave. In France, they definitely exaggerated by putting a whip-wielding Tex (!) on the film's poster, but it deservedly sounds derisory: Tex Willer is something else compared to Indiana Jones, but above all, the RAI budget is something else compared to Hollywood's.

To direct this cinematic outing of the longest-living comic protagonist of Italian history, a veteran of the spaghetti western is called upon, a co-scriptwriter, among other things, of Sergio Leone's mythical "A Fistful of Dollars" and creator of the cult Ringo: Duccio Tessari. With him, a team of screenwriters (too many) more intent on smoothing the scenic difficulties present in the original story (the splendid drawings of Letteri combined with the overflowing imagination of Gianluigi Bonelli had given life to situations and scenarios as complex as they were effective) than ensuring internal consistency to the film. Yet, in the awkward downsizing of the Bonelli plot, the whole would work as well, amid a missing character (actually more than one) and a junction added; there are things that work on paper and on film, they do not. Tessari, for his part, adds a sense of space uncommon among his colleagues in the Italian western and even some directorial daring, while the sets are, in the end, smartly adapted to the production possibilities. So the film does, in fact, have some advantages. The problem is that the negative notes are, needless to say, "abysmal": the pathos is totally absent and the editing mechanical. Connecting these two lacks is the actor chosen as the protagonist, the former Ringo (so one might think, a certainty) Giuliano Gemma. Our star doesn't crash through the screen even by slamming into it, flailing in a chronic apathy that makes him move like a puppet in action scenes and deliver lines like "You're a tough guy, eh, amigo!?" with the brilliance of a postal clerk. Putting on the shoes of one of the most convincing and charismatic characters in our popular culture leaves at least a trail of embarrassment, despite the undeniable commitment.

To conclude, a note on the special effects. Lucas was certainly not within arm's reach, but this time even the ingenious craftsmanship of the Italian horror school falls under the blows of the "too fake" and withers like the mummified corpses in the film.

In short, we continue to love Tex Willer, but the drawn one (who would surely beat Gemma in a duel, and we're sorry because we like him too); we will always have much affection for the late Duccio, but the only one who cuts a good figure in this naïve mess is Gianluigi Bonelli, dressed as a shaman as if it were carnival in the film's opening, yet solemn and irresistible in proclaiming: "They say he came from the North, like the cold wind that sweeps during winter the great prairie plains." Tex Willer... This too is wonder.