God’s Gun is a B-grade Spaghetti Western filmed in Israel so it should come as no surprise that it stars Lee Van Cleef and a lot of Jews. It’s not so bad much as it’s not anything remotely related to good. Like a twenty dollar bill stuck in your ass, any moments of greatness here are lost deep within the stink of this film and not particularly worth digging for. I laughed and even shared a few “hell yeah” moments with the missus but we also both fell asleep at one point too. A movie like God’s Gun is the perfect reminder that what the casual movie going public thinks of as entirety is but the tip of the iceberg cinematically. Only after diving head first into a specific genre (in my case Western) will you realize the heights, the depths and, more often than either of those, the vast and populous wastelands that lie between the two. Ponder a movie like ALIENS and all the conscious decisions along with uncontrollable kismet that converged in one exacting and precise moment to produce one of the greatest Sci-Fi actioners of all time. The odds that were beaten to birth most movies revered as masterpieces are astronomical. Conversely, making a truly wretched motion picture results from multiple bad rolls of the dice during every stage of development and production. Highs and lows are rare, average then is to be expected and sadly, in my case as your resident movie marshal, viewed more often than I’d prefer.

God’s Gun was originally called Diamante Lobo in a surprising move as neither diamonds nor wolves appear at anytime. Someone realized this and the film was renamed Dear God This Movie is Just so…Fuck…Wish I Had a Gun. You Know, To Shoot Myself before it was shortened to simply God’s Gun just before release. But an ill conceived title only unstrings you for a few seconds and then can be easily forgotten. Not so a soundtrack so pervasive and discordant as to make a duet by Roseanne Barr and Gilbert Gottfried sound melodious by comparison. Composer Sante Maria Romitelli is the culprit. You’re probably not familiar with his work on Blood Brides, Dangerous When Aroused or this film but if you can recall the worst nighmare you ever had and the screams you were making upon waking up from it you’re still not quite there. A cat shoved up another cat’s ass wrapped in all twenty five “Kidz Bop” albums then shoved up Fran Drescher’s ass wouldn’t offend your ears as grievously as God’s Gun godawful auditory assault. Morricone was an obvious influence but if imitation is the sincerest form of flattery this album probably qualifies as aggravated homicide.

Between the jarring jump-scares of the film’s central musical theme and director Gianfranco Parolini’s hard-on for quick zooms I am convinced that subtlety had once pissed in somebody’s cornflakes and was thenceforth banned from appearing on set. And I haven’t even gotten to Jack Palance yet.

 

 

Oh, he’s in God’s Gun alright and he’s not going to let you forget it. If Alex Trebek ever answered “Popeye’s drunken, anthropomorphic scrotum” the question would be “What the fuck Jack Palance acts like in God’s Gun?” Call my bluff, watch this film, and tell me I’m wrong. You will not be able to do so. Every field in goddamn Iowa combined has less corn that this old dirty bastard, circus clowns have more restrained performances and people with Down syndrome think “what the fuck is wrong with this guy?” He plays the chief villain of the film but chewing that much scenery would tire anyone out so all the robbing and raping that needed to get done was left to his gang. A gang compromised of at least half of Lynyrd Skynyrd.

 

 

Well once Bob Ross and pals started putting a hurt on all the locals it wasn’t too long before Biblical justice made itself known by way of Priest Van Cleef and his terribly blurry pistol.

 

 

But the Cleef didn’t have to go it alone, oh no, if extra killin’ needs doin’ you won’t need to look any further than the admirably resilient town whores who know how to handle that weapon between your legs and a goddamn shotgun too.

 

 

And when a whore shoots you point blank in the back of the head with a goddamn shotgun it, surprisingly, looks like this.

 

 

Either gunpowder was less powerful back then or people’s skulls were much, much tougher. Of course if even this level of violence bothers you just imagine that instead of taking two barrels in the brainpan the baddie above was simply enjoying a load on the chin from this guy:

Hey! He just got home from a year’s deployment in Afghanistan so show some respect and if he needs to blast one out on your face you let him do it! You hear me? You let him do it for America! Plus lycopene is good for you. Remember, if you don’t swallow the terrorists win! And speaking of dirty girls, Sybil Danning’s in God’s Gun too. If the name is striking a bell but her face isn’t coming to mind I’ll help you out here. Sybil was pretty popular back in the day. She was all Sci-Fi 80s:

 

 

And also action/revenge/obviously Miami Vice 80s:

 

 

And just regular 80s I guess:

 

 

Gold lame armband with matching shoes, a pink flowy bedazzled dress clinging to her more than ample bosom as she stands with legs akimbo, hands defiantly on her hips, that blond coif blowing suggestively in the desert wind…I’d stop typing to masturbate but I’m so aroused my dick just grew a pair of arms and jerked itself the fuck off! Not a lot of women could compete with that but you know what? I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch. Here’s my wife!

 

 

It’s okay if you’re thinking bad thoughts, I know I am. And they’re not bad at all, they’re your thoughts. Own them, and your actions, and you’ll live more fully than you’d ever believe. Whoah, fucking deep! On top of all this, and not to brag, but Angie is inexplicably beautiful with or without cosmetics. Sybil…not so much.

 

 

My fucking sweet Christ of all that is comeliness, what hair and make-up person sat back, took a look at this and said “you’re good to go Miss Danning”? This one maybe? 

 

 

No, you know what? Helen Keller would’ve done a better job because as soon as she touched that face she’d have been slapping into Anne Sullivan’s hands “who brought the fuckin’ Phantom of the Opera to the studios today am I right? Heyoooo!” 

Well we can’t all be pretty all the time. And every Western can’t be the best movie ever made or at least not God’s Gun. Regretfully God’s Gun is God’s Gun and goddamn, it’s rough. 2 rounds in the cylinder with too much going against it for any more than that. I didn’t think rape, revenge and not one but two Lee Van Cleefs could ever leave me feeling this let down. Touché God’s Gun, touché. I’ll ride true till the day I die but I doubt I’ll ever feel the need to return to these parts ever again. Though this would make a great film to watch with a bunch of friends and to clarify I mean friends that you hate or friends who will soon hate you for showing them God’s Gun. It’s a bizarro mixture of gunslingers and gals topped with gefilte fish and it’s unpalatable as it sounds. I can guarantee you that Mahmoud Amidinijad wants to wipe Israel off the map because he saw this very movie and thought “never again!” In fact I’ll bet most modern antisemitism likely stems from this film. That and the fact the Jews run everything, I mean that would upset anyone. But you can’t ever get too upset, even when you’re joking.

Which of course I am.

Just in case those Jews are listening!