Old school crime film with hard case armed robber John Cassavetes at its centre. John plays Hank, once part of a Bonnie and Clyde type duo who's spent twelve years in the joint. His son, who's basically a stranger to him, springs him from the clink to take part in another heist - this one being the robbery of a classy casino in Vegas.
This casino is the centre of a complicated business involving newly appointed mob boss Peter Falk, who has taken over mafia duties on the West coast from a guy who was killed in front of his kids. His New York mob superiors have told Peter not to touch anything in Vegas, and they are enraged that he's muscling in on a casino he doesn't know they own. Worse still, Peter seems unaware that his young wife (a big-haired Florinda Bolkan) seems to have a past with one of the New York mob bosses...
In between not trusting his son, really not trusting the two goons his son is hanging about with, and preparing for the heist, John somehow still manages the time to romance Britt Ekland, who really is the only innocent person in the film. Nevertheless, she also gets caught up in all the double crossing and (in one case literal) back stabbing as the cast is whittled down.
Apart from The Dirty Dozen (a film that spawned several thousand Italian rip-offs) I don't know much about John Cassavetes, but he makes a pretty convincing gangster, and who doesn't want to see Colombo in an Italian crime film? I'd pretty much watch Peter Falk in anything, so seeing him on screen with Italian genre regulars Luigi Pistilli and Florinda Bolkan just ticks all the boxes for me. Tony Kendall usually shows up in Spaghetti Westerns, but manages to stand out here as a suave button-man hunting down Cassavetes.
This film has two other things going for it - the nice cinematography that captures the Californian atmosphere (as well as the harsh sunlight invading interior scenes) and Ennio Morricone's melancholy soundtrack. Keep in mind this an old school Eurocrime film that is a bit more classy than the trashy, over the top ones of the seventies.
I prefer those, for the record.
