Run Man Run (1968): A Picaresque Shaggy Dog Tale of a Tortilla Western (Review)

Receiving its Blu-ray world premiere from Eureka Entertainment’s Masters of Cinema series this week is the third and final Western from director Sergio Sollima, 1968’s Run, Man, Run. Set against the backdrop of the Mexican Revolution, this ‘Zapata’ or ‘Tortilla’ Western (the names commonly given to these Italian-made oaters of a Mexican flavour), the film stars the inimitable Tomas Milian, one of Italian Filoni‘s most celebrated and admired screen icons, as the peasant Cuchillo, a role he originated in Sollima’s 1966 western, The Big Gundown (which will be released to Blu-ray by Powerhouse Indicator also this month).

When Cuchillo attempts to aid the escape of a political prisoner, he receives ‘payment’ in the reveal of the whereabouts of unimagined wealth – a secret stash of gold worth $3 million dollars intended to fund the revolution against the fascist Mexican government. Determined to get his hands on the prize, Cuchillo sets out on the treasure hunt, but he is not the only one – a series of mercenaries, bounty hunters, bandits and corrupt officials all want to get rich and will stop at nothing to achieve their ambition. Can the plucky Cuchillo draw on all his reserves of wit and his legendary knife-throwing prowess to stay alive and stay one step ahead of the game?

Like many Italian filmmakers of this period, Sergio Sollima had fought against fascism, serving in the Italian resistance during World War II. Given such a background, it was inevitable that Sollima considered himself a political filmmaker, and many of his key films either have a prominent ideological message, serve as a political metaphor or are simply celebrations of the Italian proletariat, whom he knew his movies would appeal to. Whilst The Big Gundown may have starred Lee Van Cleef, the Hollywood actor who had gained a new lease of life – and a legion of Italian fans – working on Leone’s For a Few Dollars More, Sollima fully envisaged the film’s secondary character, the Mexican peasant Cuchillo whom Van Cleef was tasked with hunting down, to become a new working class folk hero for the masses to enjoy. It was an opportunity to create such a thing that Tomas Milain seized upon, and it would be one that he would return to time and again in his Italian career; the characters of Il Gobbo, Monnezza and Giraldi in the popular Poliziotteschi genre of the 1970s all spoke to the lives and experiences of Italy’s working class cinemagoers and, just like Cuchillo, all appeared in more than one outing. In between these two Cuchillo adventures however, Sollima and Milain also made another Western, 1967’s Face to Face which pitted Milain as a ‘half breed’ bandit against Gian Maria Volonte’s consumptive university lecturer. It proved to be Sollima’s most political film yet; sneaking in an exploration of fascism in the context of nurture, rather than nature, shapes the man.

Another common instance in the career of Milain is a growing propensity towards comedy. The star may have started out the 60s Spaghetti Western craze in movies like the aforementioned The Big Gundown, Face to Face or Django Kill, but he continued them in the early 70s dressed as Charlie Chaplin in the slapstick-orientated Life is Tough, Eh Providence? and its sequel, Here We Go Again, Eh Providence? (his Poliziotteschi’s too would grow increasingly farcical). The opportunity to place Cuchillo centre stage in Run, Man, Run sees Sollima adopt a more light-hearted tone, one which Milain (pun not intended) runs with. As the hapless and somewhat selfish peasant who seems doomed to be forever caught in the machinations and schemes of others, Milain relishes the opportunity to draw a broader characterisation, complete with pratfalls and acrobatic action. It’s not that this approach is necessarily the wrong one – it actually goes rather well with the picaresque shaggy dog tale nature of the narrative – but for fans of more bleakly nihilistic Spaghettis, it is a tone that might jar.

With the central conceit being a search for gold, Sollima has fun introducing a rogue’s gallery of friends and foes from Jose Torres’ revolutionary poet who attempts to educate Cuchillo on ‘The Cause’, to Linda Veres’ beautiful yet puritanical Salvation Army officer who also wishes to educate the peasant on the sins that have resulted in his lot, by way of Donald O’Brien’s black-clad gringo bounty hunter who has Cuchillo in his sights. And then there’s Chelo Alonso as Cuchillo’s long-suffering fiancee who wants only his heart, not the gold. Carried along on the riptide of such motivations and pursuits Cuchillo remains the same hapless everyman whose only concern is his own backside. Cuchillo is no altruistic freedom fighter, but he is at least honest about his selfishness and shortcomings.

This two-disc set from Eureka contains a 4K restoration of the original uncut version of Run, Man, Run which runs (pun not intended, again) to two hours, plus a 4K restoration of the 85-minute theatrical cut. The former has a brand new audio commentary from Barry Forshaw and Kim Newman, whilst the latter has one from Howard Hughes and Richard Knew. There is also an interview with film scholar Stephen Thrower, alternative opening credits and a trailer.

Mark’s Archive: Run Man Run (1968)