Sharp shooting Texan Sheriff Burt Sullivan (Franco Nero) takes his kid brother Jim (Alberto Dell’Acqua) south of the border to on a mission to collar Cisco Delgado (José Suárez), the sadistic grandee who murdered his father. Along the way they encounter Mexican insurgents but are less concerned with Revolution than the revelation that Delgado fathered Jim after raping their mother…
Ferdinando Baldi’s Texas, Adios and Lucio Fulci’s Massacre Time were the earliest Westerns to star Franco Nero in the immediate aftermath of Sergio Corbucci’s seminal Django (all three films hail from 1966). Consequently both of them were among the first of countless Italian Oaters to suffer retitlings as phoney entries (Baldi’s film became “Django The Avenger” for its German release) in a “Django series” that actually only ever included one official sequel, Nello Rossati’s Django Strikes Again (1987).
Nero himself states, in the bonus material on this release, that Texas Adios isn’t a “proper” Spaghetti Western, being more closely patterned on American avatars than the innovations of Corbucci and of course Sergio Leone. In another featurette, pundit Austin Fisher embellishes the point, observing that the film dips its toes into the Mexican Revolution without displaying any of the political consciousness that would subsequently emerge in the likes of Damiano Damiani’s A Bullet For The General (1967), Sergio Sollima’s Face To Face (also 1967), Giulio Petroni’s Tepepa (1969) or Corbucci’s Companeros! (1970).
Although its story is, at superficial glance, simple stuff (encapsulated in its trailer, above, as “the story of a Texan’s Fued”), a more considered viewing of Texas, Adios reveals that its SpagWest credentials can’t be dismissed quite so easily. Like the Leone films and Corbucci’s Django (channeling Kurosawa’s Yojimbo, 1961 and ultimately Goldoni’s 18th Century farce The Servant Of Two Masters) you get a protagonist who’s playing various factions off against each other and there is stuff here about the awakening revolutionary conscience, albeit not so artfully played as by Gian Maria Volontè, as El Cuncho, in A Bullet For The General (whose “Yankees go home” message was quite explicit, whereas in Baldi’s film the peons pine for an injection of American democracy / capitalism to help them throw off the shackles of Spanish feudalism). Baldi also deploys emotionally charged flashbacks in the Leone style, albeit nowhere near as effectively (then again, name me any director who uses flashbacks more incisively than Leone).
The Gothic overtones of Django (pushed to their limits in Giuli Questi’s Django Kill! / If You Live, Shoot!, 1967) continue to reverberate in this film’s sickly Oedipal ambience and the many acts of casual sadism it contains. Or once contained… branding scenes have been clumsily excised from the print sourced here. It’s too long since I watched Aktiv’s VHS release of Texas, Adios for me to recall whether they were included in that, ditto the occasional print damage, variable colour and moments of wonky focus on this 2K BD restoration.
The redoubtable cinematography of Enzo Barboni (another Django holdover) allows the hills of Almeria to pass nicely for the Sierra Madre and an honourable mention must also go to the macabre mariachi music of Antón García Abril (working his way up to the unforgettably atmospheric scores he conceived for Amando De Ossorio’s Blind Dead films) and his main title theme (available on Parade Records, apparently) is belted out in suitably melodramatic style by Don Powell (not the Slade drummer, surely?)
Apart from the already mentioned extras, there’s an informative and amusing interview with Alberto Dell’Acqua (billed as “Cole Kitisch”!) Yes, Dell’Acqua is one of the legendary stunt specialist family that also produced Zombi 2 poster boy Ottaviano. Spagwest buffs C. Courtney Joyner and Henry C. Park supply the audio commentary and co-writer Franco Rossetti is interviewed, in what looks like an off-cut from a session that’s already featured on some other release which I haven’t caught up with yet. The trailer and a gallery of original promotional images from the Mike Siegel Archive complete the bonus materials… the ones I’ve seen, anyway. You’ll also benefit from a booklet including contemporary reviews and new writing on the film by Howard Hughes, if you buy the first pressing… and why wouldn’t you? Texas, Adios is perhaps more evolutionary than revolutionary in its approach but does enough to earn itself a respectable place in the SpagWest firmament.
As if anticipating the accusation that his Westerns were somehow too conservative, Baldi subsequently made such Oater oddities as 1971’s Blindman (starring Ringo Starr) and the 3-D effort Comin’ At Ya (1981) also the execrable Terror Express (1980), a late arriving entry in Italy’s interminable series of Last House On The Left clones and arguably the most reprehensible of the lot.