Sergio (no, the other one) Corbucci directs and Burt Reynolds stars in Navajo Joe (1966), a violent Spaghetti Western that finds Reynolds in his first leading role as the titular Joe. His co-stars for this saucy oater include Nicoletta Machiavelli and Aldo Sambrell as Joe’s chief foe. An undercover Ennio Morricone (The Good, the Bad and the Ugly) provides the music while the legendary Dino De Laurentiis produced this spicy meatball that would grab the attention of a later generation of innovative movie makers.
Buy Navajo Joe (Special Edition) Blu-rayA despicable gang of scalp hunters led by a villain named “Vee” Duncan (Sambrell) and his fair-haired brother destroy a small Indian village, killing everyone in sight as they take what they came for. What they didn’t realize is that the meanest warrior of the tribe was not there and would now be hunting them as he seeks revenge. What the band of cut throats also failed to realize is that scalp-taking had been outlawed and they are now completely unwanted around town.
Instead of riding away, this murderous lot kills the sheriff and begins to burn and pillage the town like some washed-ashore drunken desert pirates. Duncan’s rampage is halted when the town doctor approaches him with a proposition. There’s a train full of money headed their way and it can be taken easily by Duncan and his 100 bad dudes. A traveling entertainment troupe of three female performers and their kooky manager overhear this scheme and flee in hope of making the town of Esperanza in time to warn the townsfolk there of their impending doom. Duncan sends men to stop them but once they catch up with the troupe, they are cut down by a lone man on horseback.
Meanwhile, Duncan’s gang attacks and captures the money train but not for long. Good old Joe comes sneaking up on them at (what should have been) night, killing them all as he steals the train and drives it to Esperanza. At first, the townspeople reject Joe’s help when his services are suggested to them by none other than the doctor’s wife and her servant, Estella (Machiavelli). Once the people give in, Joe strikes a bargain with the townies agreeing to protect them from Duncan at the price of one dollar a head. It all comes to a volcanic conclusion when Duncan and his few remaining men meet Joe on the Navajo burial grounds. It’s there, in that sacred place, that they all meet their bloody fates and where we’re left to wonder if Joe has made it out alive to further wander the west.
Navajo Joe is an entertaining and violent Spaghetti Western much like Corbucci’s previous outing, Django (1966), and would inspire directors like Sam Peckinpah on The Wild Bunch (1969). The story is a good one of revenge and casts a light on the injustices and prejudices of the wild west. The plot has its holes as do most westerns not only of the Spaghetti variety, but that can be overlooked as the action is the focus of the film. Corbucci’s long shots are beautiful and give a picturesque look at the surrounding landscapes.
Marricone’s music, much like his work on The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, helps drive the story along and perfectly punctuates what’s on screen. It does seem as though the score was meant to be mixed more prominently than it was in the released version. The Native American-inspired chorus and drums provide a catchy theme song for Joe’s scenes, though one does have to forgive and get past the one misfire; in the opening song, while the chorus does its best to imitate native tribal singing, there is one scream that sounds straight out of an old Haunted House sound-effects record. One does one’s best not to laugh too hard upon hearing it for the first time.
Reynolds, who was inspired by his friend Clint Eastwood’s time overseas, was not a fan of his time with Corbucci. He has stated that he ran around in a “fright wig” as he did his work for “the wrong Sergio” as Burt thought he’d be working with Eastwood’s man Leone. Reynold’s toupee aside, Navajo Joe does a fine job in flipping the script on the portrayal of Native Americans in westerns up to that time, where Tonto was the only hero. The Indian is not the savage nor the scalp-taker here; that role is left to Duncan and his loathsome gang of scumbags, The townsfolk aren’t much better and in one scene where Joe demands to be made sheriff as he protects the town, he’s told the badge is only for Americans. Joe responds by asking the sheriff where his father was born. The reply is Ireland which sends Joe on a quick rant telling the townsfolk that his father was born on this land as was his father before him and so on.
Alex Cox, filmmaker and author of 10,000 Ways to Die: A Director’s Take on the Italian Westerns, provides a very entertaining full-length audio commentary. As he speaks, we’re given a second chance to fully appreciate Corbucci’s long shots. Cox wonderfully points out the flaws and highlights of Navajo Joe. He humorously explains how Corbucci’s attempt at a day-for-night scene doesn’t quite work. He also wonders with us as to how all that train vault full of money can so conveniently fit into a few saddlebags. The scene-specific audio commentary by Marricone expert Gary Palmucci is concise, informative, and enjoyable. I appreciate that the scenes are combined into a short segment rather than spread throughout another viewing of the film.
Corbucci turns out another enjoyable western that has quickly made it to the top of my list. For 93 minutes, I was completely enthralled with Navajo Joe and his revenge ride, plot holes, filming goofs, and all. Are Corbucci’s westerns as iconic or popular as those of Leone? Perhaps not but he still provides a fine example of the genre as it was being produced in Europe at the time: heavy on the bloody knife/gunplay action and light on the palaver. Even though Burt Reynolds would protest otherwise but hey, Quentin Tarantino thinks Navajo Joe is cool enough to give a nod to in his movies so it’s gotta be good. Right?
