Definitely the least good of the three westerns Raquel Welch made in the late 60s and early 70s, her only forays into this most worthy genre. It's the kind of film that asks to be patted on its enlightened back for the interracial sex stuff but would have you ignore the backwardness of a Caucasian actor appearing in brownface as late as 1969. It's also the kind of film that in lieu of cinematic rhythm or flow just kind of lumbers and sputters along, like a truck with a defective engine, spewing out violence pollution at more or less regular intervals from its rusty tailpipe. And to cap it all off it features, in the lead, perhaps the least talented American male actor of the later half of the twentieth century, a fellow who makes Chuck Norris look like Joseph Wiseman. (For the record, Reynolds and Raquel are decent). Solid C.
Review of 100 Rifles
