In his last film, Steve Reeves played his usual hero number (though a bit too sombre, with no glimpse of humor, as in the adventure films he starred in), doing not too different grimaces and acrobatics as the ones he performed for his incarnations of Romulus, Sir Henry Morgan, Hercules and Sandokan. It was adapted from a novel, and probably the scriptwriters (including Reeves) were too respectful of the original (written, as told by other reviewer, by a specialist in western novels) and took little advantage of the European western film craze of the 1960s. Even in the more serious western dramas (as Leone's "Once Upon a Time in the West"), there were always bizarre elements and even a bit of Brechtian estrangement, making it obvious that it was a foreign concoction turning a classic genre upside down, every now and then revealing something that had not been told in the classic American westerns (although I believe the real revisionist westerns were made by American filmmakers, as Penn, Peckinpah, Altman and Gries). This one plays it straight, and maybe Reeves wanted to do a real western, but it just comes out as an average European western without zest.
Review of I Live for Your Death
