Minnesota Clay

An early Corbucci western from before he came into his own. Fairly standard fare, heroics galore and no humor, the only recognizable feature is Corbucci's penchant for disabled protagonists. Best to give this one a miss and skip to his '67-70 stuff. By the way, a few decades apart, aging Cameron Mitchell looks a lot like aging William Shatner.

Sort of a dull spaghetti Yojimbo.

A corny but sometimes well-made movie that can be quite menacing at times. Some of the death scenes are brutal. Corbucci is a man of good taste; he prefers the women in his movies to have large tits, and I salute him for that. However the alternate tacked on happy ending makes literally no sense.

Enjoyable spaghetti western feels more like a middling Randolph Scott than Sergio Leone, but it's still fun, if not especially memorable; Mitchell makes for a fine hero, and Sancho is as always a first-rate hissable villain. The 'happy' and 'sad' endings are a baffling addition, with the happy apparently not even coherently related to the film we just watched!