Red Sun (1971) ****

Reminder of just how good an actor Charles Bronson was before he went all monosyllabic in The Valachi Papers (1972) and Death Wish (1974) and growled and grimaced his way to superstardom. Realistic western filled with anti-heroes except for the least likely hero in the shape of a Japanese swordsman.

In the early days of the multi-national co-production, the idea was to headline the picture with stars who could sell the picture in their domestic country, although Bronson did double duty, a Yank who was a far bigger star in France than in his home land. Frenchman Alain Delon (Texas Across the River, 1966) also doubled up, a reliable performer in U.S. markets as well as in his home patch. Toshiro Mifune (Hell in the Pacific, 1968), huge commercially in Japan, also appeal to the global arthouse mob. Ursula Andress (She, 1965), though technically Swiss, held sway over male hormones in wide swathes of Europe. And if that wasn’t enough, for good measure, there was another French beauty in Capucine (The 7^th Dawn, 1964).

Interspersed with bouts of action of one kind or another, the story is mostly of the immoral kind, double-crossing to the fore, seduction merely a tool, but arriving at a surprisingly moral conclusion. Usually, pictures that focus on adversarial characters forced to work together pivot on a gender clash, romance going to find a way. But here, the outlaw and the swordsman are mostly at odds and, to top it all, outlaws, swordsman and seducer have to band together to save the day at the end.

Story is slightly complicated in that Link (Charles Bronson) begins as a bad guy, in league with Gauche (Alain Delon), to rob a train and doesn’t really stop being a bad guy, and is very self-aware about the consequences of his chosen profession, even when, double-crossed and left for dead, he seeks revenge on his partner. The opening section has a heist-like quality, you know the kind, where clever machination is required. Here, it’s how to empty the train of the soldiers helping escort a Japanese ambassador. But once that’s accomplished and the small matter of $400,000 swiped, only greed cues the complication, in that Gauche also nabs a Japanese ceremonial sword, and Kuroda (Toshiro Mifune) is honor-bound to recover it.

Gauche is also the kind of outlaw who doesn’t appreciate his team’s efforts, not only attempting to murder Link but finding occasion to bump off other members of the gang. Link becomes Kuroda’s prisoner and spends a good chunk of time trying to escape and even when they supposedly come to an agreement can’t resist the odd double-cross. The quarrel is mainly over who gets to kill Gauche.

Anyway, eventually, they end up in a small western town big enough to contain a whorehouse run by Pepita (Capucine), sometime lover of Link, where lies potential bait in the shape of Christina (Ursula Andress), Gauche’s girlfriend. When Gauche doesn’t take the lure,  they have to saddle up and seek him out, hoping to trade the girl for at least some of the loot and the sword. Christina is as untrustworthy a prisoner as Link and gets them into trouble with the local Commanche, thus setting up a finale in a blazing cornfield.

The tasty exchanges between the Yank and the Japanese, more than the culture clash, drive the picture, though the eastern obsession with cleanliness is a new one for the western. You wouldn’t say the pair end up buddies but they certainly hold each other in healthy respect.

Charles Bronson isn’t easy-going but he’s much more natural, with a welcome grin, plenty dialog, and ready for most eventualities (except the first one, obviously). Mifune brings in  the wider audience that gave Hell in the Pacific the thumbs-down. This could have been a swashbuckler had he been more cavalier in character, and perhaps the most telling difference between east and west is his venerating approach to a sex worker. Mifune is a fine match for Bronson.

Delon and Bronson go way back to  Farewell, Friend / Adieu L’Ami (1968), the movie that turned Bronson into a giant star in France and in which they were the adversarial buddies. Delon here plays both sides of his screen person, the charming gallant and the ruthless gangster, and it’s a rare sight indeed to have three actors at the top of their game appearing in scenes together. Ursula Andress also plays against type, as a conniving seductress, with a complete lack of the self-awareness that typifies Bronson. Mostly, she’s just nasty.

On the face of it, the eastern western should be nothing more than a marketing gimmick but in the capable hands of Terence Young (Mayerling, 1968) it works a treat. More talky than audiences might have expected but that adds meat to the raw bones of a revenge picture. Took three screenwriters to pull it off – William Roberts (The Magnificent Seven, 1960), Denne Bart Petitclerc (Islands in the Stream, 1977) and Laird Koenig (Bloodline, 1979). Great score by Maurice Jarre (El Condor, 1970).

A surprise.