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Rating: FROM YOUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT HAPPY PIPPO.
"The Grand Duel": screened last night at the Sala Perla in the former Lido Casino in Venice, on the occasion of the 64th Venice Film Festival, for the retrospective on spaghetti westerns. Introduced by Marco Giusti who presented the director, Giancarlo Santi (former assistant to Leone on "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" and "Once Upon a Time in the West"); Santi recounted anecdotes mostly related to money, earnings, and percentages (after all, we are at the "nutritional" film festival) and, rather unfairly, attacked Tarantino, stating that he hadn’t seen his films but avoided them, due to the "violence" contained in Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill. Yet Santi should thank Tarantino if his little obscure film has resurfaced from rightful oblivion, due to the very beautiful musical score by Luis Enriquez Bacalov, who was present in the hall along with the film’s protagonist, Alberto Dentice.
"The Grand Duel" is a very late title in our local colt filmography and quite insignificant. As was evident from Santi's view of this work ("it was the opportunity to come out with a debut work, and I did, nothing more"), this western, except for the repetitive but always effective presence of Lee Van Cleef, is a work shot with the left hand, whose narrative inconsistency is not at all blessed by a dignified craftsmanship, quite the opposite. The fact that it boasts a decent cinematography, and features a beautiful soundtrack, signed by Sergio Bardotti instead of Bacalov due to disputes with RCA on the latter’s part, only worsens the substantial mediocrity of this "Grand Duel"; I am sure that any Demofilo Fidani would have moved me more.
The story tells of an ex-sheriff, Clayton, (Van Cleef) who reaches a frontier area by stagecoach, along with a gravedigger, a madam with a prostitute daughter, and a sweet girl (Dominique Darel), as a wanted man worth $3000, Philip Veermeer (Alberto Dentice-Philip O'Brien, stage name), is hiding there. Veermeer is hidden in a shack and for days a group of bounty hunters have been waiting for him to make a wrong move to kill him. The sheriff manages to capture him; but the story is more complex than it appears. Veermeer is wanted for the murder of Patriarca Saxon, a capitalist, and the sons have hired some of their men to infiltrate the bounty hunters to bring him to them for justice. In fact, the sheriff knows that Veermeer is innocent and that the Patriarch was a cruel capitalist who was burning everything to the ground. Only two people know the truth: the sheriff and the eldest Saxon, played by Horst Frank....
The complex plot is developed without a shred of involvement, like a half-hearted homework assignment that exploits the natural charisma of a tired Van Cleef (it's yet another revision of Colonel Mortimer from "For a Few Dollars More," already modified in the more entertaining "Sabata" by Parolini) and the "physique du role" of O'Brien-Dentice, believable as a physical presence but modest as an actor. Subsequently, he wisely chose journalism and is to this day a historical author for "L’Espresso".
The father-son dynamic between the two protagonists makes one long for the Petronis from "Death Rides a Horse"; the villain of the moment (the excellent Horst Frank) is disposed of in the second half, quickly and badly. The pathological syphilitic brother is just a gay caricature without vigor.
The film has quickly fallen into oblivion and should have stayed there if not for the revival of the title music. Surely, once the "Kill Bill" frenzy passes, it will return there, and no one will miss it.
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