I was familiar with this film's reputation long before I finally saw it, and am amused to be impressed with what it finally turned out to be. A few years back I purchased Roger Ebert's "I Hated, Hated, Hated This Movie", a collection of his zero star "bomb" reviews of stuff that failed to pass even minimal muster with him. A DOLLAR BETWEEN THE TEETH was reviewed under it's Americanized title, A STRANGER IN TOWN, and Ebert fled the film twice with the same kind of revulsion I feel when encountering fruit.
I can sympathize with him: This is an ultra-cheap, mean spirited, nearly artless little study in applied bad taste & nihilism masquerading as a cowboy movie for grown-ups. It doesn't even have a particularly involving musical score, the one thing that the Italians usually managed to get right with their Westerns. The first thing our "star" gunslinger encounters when entering the seemingly deserted town the film takes place in is a dead body. Then he beats the sole patron of a saloon to death with a tequila bottle, and the movie never gets any friendlier.
The "star" is one Tony Anthony, an actor I had never heard of before, and with my cynic's attitude about European genre entertainment the natural assumption was that "Tony Anthony" was a pseudonym. It isn't. He stands about 5'9", looks like he may have been a boxer at one time, and speaks with a Brooklyn accent. His blond hair dye isn't fooling anyone, but he knows how to take a beating like Brando. By studying Anthony's IMDb reference page one learns that he made about a dozen movies during his career and was an advocate of the 3-D revival of the early 1980s that resulted in Friday THE 13TH PART THREE with it's 3-D popcorn popping effects and the infamous spear to the eye. Anthony made three "Stranger" films, this one being the first, and with or without Mr. Ebert's acquiescence they have amassed a bit of a cult following due to their unremitting brutality, grim overtones and nihilistic, deadpan remorselessness for being morally bankrupt.
Just like Tony Anthony himself -- at least on camera -- so it makes sense that the films managed to resonate with some viewers. They are honest about their intentions. One of the misconceptions about the fascination with Spaghetti Westerns is that audiences become enamored with their overtly arty & superficially poetic nature. That may be true, but the fondness I feel for Spaghetti is more rooted in a dislike for the traditionalist approach to making Westerns, which usually have a moral centerpoint. As such it is fascinating to find one that quite literally has none: Nobody in this movie is heroic or noble, there is no justice or redemption, only a bunch of filthy, sweaty, drunk, bloodthirsty bastards fighting it out in some dusty nowhere for a couple of sacks of gold.
I find the honesty to be delightfully refreshing. Here at last is a Western about lust, greed, hatred, contempt; All of the reptilian aspects of the human psyche glossed over by the traditional approach with it's pap sentimentality, laughable romantics and lunkheaded attention to detail. By contrast, A DOLLAR BETWEEN THE TEETH is stripped of all but the bare essentials needed to tell the story, which is gleefully ripped off from FISTFUL OF DOLLARS lock, stock and smoking barrel.
But on the ultra dirt cheap. Almost all of the handguns seen are modern-day police revolvers, and you can see the department store blue jeans labels on some of the costumes. There are maybe four locations used in the film and two are outdoor locations easily recognizable from ten dozen other Italian made Westerns. The two others are collections of ramshackle buildings in a wonderful state of disrepair that are probably no more than a few hundred yards away from each other in real world terms. Yet here they make up a little universe of their own, sort of like how the Holodeck on "Star Trek" is always the same room no matter what it is programmed to look like. Throw in a couple of sand pits filmed from various different angles and a totally minimalist music score comprised of only those elements needed to propel the action forward and we are talking about a pared down work that reminds me more of the artwork of someone like Sol Lewitt or Mel Bochner than anything Sergio Leone may have produced.
One name jumps out at me from the production credits: Allen Klein. It is indeed the same Allen Klein who was brought in to save The Beatles from bankruptcy in 1969, and after thinking about his connection to the film things started to make a bit more sense. He and Tony Anthony must have been acquaintances of some kind and for whatever reason Klein put up the money to make this film -- probably hoping to cash in on the surprise box office success of FISTFUL OF DOLLARS and the other Leone favorites. In 1967 you literally could make a movie like this in a place like Italy for about $15,000 or so, provided you had industry people who perhaps owed you a couple of favors (or were enamored by the clients associated with you, i.e. The Rolling Stones) and I can quite literally see this as a filmed investment scheme, with Tony Anthony fronting the project for Klein.
However it came about the movie was made, and as an object lesson in low budget film-making it is a fascinating if somewhat ghoulish little production that somehow, against the efforts of no less than Roger Ebert, has managed to withstand the test of time. It's an awful film to be sure but you do have to sort of marvel at it's insistence to be not just in bad taste, but in the worst taste possible.
7/10
