28 July 2013


Every element of Keoma, from its camera work to its gorgeous theme to Franco Nero's eyes, is a thing of absolute bad-ass masculine awe, but sadly these parts never come together in a way that elevates the movie into a majestic artifact for the ages.  It's a stone cold masterpiece compared to late-period western dreck like Mannaja, so my guess is that all of its cool-ass sadness and fancy gun totin' tricked me into holding Keoma up to Peckinpah-level standards rather than a more appropriate Island of the Fishmen-informed yardstick.

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