One can see the influence of Sergio Leone writ large all over this large-scale Spaghetti Western (and not just in the casting of Eli Wallach from THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY [1966]) – but Colizzi doesn’t in any way show a comparable talent! The director also receives sole writing credit, which rather explains the film’s relentless self-indulgence – padding a wafer-thin plot with lame attempts at characterization and dreary passages of local color! <br /><br />The film happens to be the second teaming of popular Italian brawling duo Terence Hill and Bud Spencer (the first – GOD FORGIVES…I DON’T [1967] – was actually a prequel to this!) but Hill’s atypical glum countenance robs the film of some much-needed charisma. Incidentally, neither title – American (which places an emphasis on the gambling subplot which comes into play only during the last third) or original, which roughly translates to FOUR GUNMEN OF AVE MARIA – is really satisfactory…but, then, neither is the film itself: one isn’t bothered by the sluggish pacing and extreme length of Leone’s Spaghetti Westerns, but that certainly can’t be said here! Mind you, being a vintage outing, it’s moderately watchable and, at least, the print (via the Paramount DVD – how they suddenly felt the urge to release this I’ll never know!) was very nice…in contrast to its follow-up, BOOT HILL (1969), which I recently viewed by way of a horridly panned-and-scanned Public Domain edition.<br /><br />Anyway, the plot involves “lice-infected jailbird” Wallach being sprung from jail by a corrupt banker to retrieve a sum of money ‘stolen’ from him by Hill and Spencer; there follows an endless series of chases and double-crosses – with occasional interjections from black tightrope-walker Brock Peters and, it goes without saying, numerous stops for the duo’s trademark brawling antics. Eventually, the four join forces to clean up the gambling-house owned by Wallach’s long-time enemy (and former partner) Kevin McCarthy: this is an elaborate and mildly suspenseful sequence – climaxed by a shoot-out between the gang and McCarthy and his (anonymous-looking) henchmen on either side of the gambling table during a particularly busy night. The soundtrack is, once again, the handiwork of Carlo Rustichelli – but, while serving its purpose, isn’t especially remarkable within the impressive pantheon of Spaghetti Western scores…