We Are No Angels

Just watched this baby tonight and its currently fresh in my mind, but slipping away fast so I wanted to record my thoughts. Bud Spencer/Terrence Hill wannabes rig a fight with a large black prize fighter to buy a car in a very lush, green Tuscan-looking Nevada. Their scheme is to compete in a downhill roadrace, the winner of which will get the right to a railroad transport contract, which will apparently make them rich. There are love interests, an infinitely running gag with a toilet, slapstick, lots of bopping of heads, anachronistic greasy mafioso thugs by the score, implications of pedophilia, inexplicable dubbing (probably lazy literal dubbing of Italian colloquialisms), fart humor, and about a hundred tangential story-lines and plot seasonings that make no sense whatsoever.

The score intercuts between hard-rockin 70's fuzzed out guitar and silent era ragtime slapstick score. Half of the camera angles look like they were intended to be shot in 3-D but weren't. There's a man with a steel head and boxing glove, some crazy out-of-the-blue racial slurs, and the whole mess ends with an old-west era hangglider vs. coach and buggy race.

Sure, it's an awful movie and a brazen theft of the Spencer/Hill franchise, but it was so incomprehensibly all over the place, I couldn't help but love it. - Tim League