Directed by:
Harald ReinlScreenplay:
Harald G. PeterssonCinematography:
Ernst W. KalinkeComposer:
Martin BöttcherCast:
Lex Barker, Pierre Brice, Anthony Steel, Karin Dor, Klaus Kinski, Renato Baldini, Terence Hill, Ilija Ivezic, Velimir Chytil, Djordje Nenadovic, Mirko Boman (more)Plots(1)
Winnetou and Old Shatterhand arrange a conference, in which the Chiefs of different Indian tribes meet with white politicians and generals to negotiate a final peace treaty. The reckless businessman Forrester (Anthony Steel) and his vicious private mercenaries - who don't back up from any kind of crime, including child murder - are thoroughly against these diplomatic efforts. Forrester objects to these "soothing politics", intending to exploit the rich oil fields centred on the Ponca tribes land. And, just as Winnetou is prepared to sacrifice his love Ribanna (Karin Dor) to a "white" Lieutenant (young Terence Hill, here still as Mario Girotti) to benefit peace talks, Forrester´s mercenaries attack a peaceful group of settlers and put the blame on the unsuspecting, innocent Indians. Old Shatterhand, more or less coincidentally the only witness of the attack, has to fight the seemingly unavoidable escalation between the Indians and the white settlers, with the help of his blood brother, Winnetou. (official distributor synopsis)
(more)Reviews (5)
This is another classic for me, and there's just nothing to be done about it. Even though today I see how naive it is, how it might try too hard for humor just to keep things entertaining and not bogged down by serious themes, it remains a film that I always enjoy, and it's beautiful precisely because of its individual characters and honorable heroes.
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The book of the same title, which I read with pleasure several times in my childhood and adulthood, has the desire for revenge against Santero, the solo digressions of Old Shatterhand in disguise as a detective, the journey to the Mexican border – and you have to forget about all of it. Harald Reinl went about it from the ground up, grasping at plot strings that in the books remained only in the flashbacks of the memories of the supporting characters. Unlike most adaptations of literary works, however, this was a miraculously correct decision. Even years after I first devoured this duo full of ideals, I'm still as glued to the screen as ever. The combination of adventure and romance has perhaps never been this perfectly balanced before or since.
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The heroic Apache chief learns that you can’t sit on two chairs at once. He wants to be a tough guy while also getting under the fluttering skirt of Ribanna by killing a man in a bear costume! But what can you do when your competition is a leading Italian comedy actor with sky-blue eyes? As a Scottish papillon hunter would say, that’s unfair! Of course, there’s the white brother who crushes villains’ chins and uses his weight to crush Hatátitlá’s back. Gojko Mitić again looks as if his steroid locker has been robbed, and Count Nosferatu exits towards the sun in an unexpectedly trivial manner. The nostalgia-powered time machine starts up again during the summer holidays, despite the naïveté sticks jammed into its mechanism. Plus, it supports tourism, because when else can you visit Texas and New Mexico between Postojna and Split?
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Yeah, the music is beautiful, the scenery around Plitvice Lakes is gorgeous (I consider the idea of filming in the former Yugoslavia to be an absolutely brilliant move by the German filmmakers), and the Serbian gym teacher Gojko Mitic has muscles like a real Indian (lol), but as an avid reader of May’s book, I can’t avoid nitpicking, what on earth (if it's called Vinnetou) does this have to do with the source material? The answer is clear: nothing, nothing at all. In this regard, I can't help but think of the undeserved scolding of the Tolkien nerds in connection with Jackson's Lord of the Rings, but in the case of Vinnetou we can't even talk about the basic plot skeleton. This film trilogy has absolutely nothing in common with the books (aside from a few points of contact in the first part), and I’m forced to endure the screenwriter's banal plot, although – yes – nicely filmed. Still, I have fond memories of my childhood, when I used to relive all Vinnetou's adventures in a crowded cinema and passionately collect movie stills.
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The Red Gentleman has always been the third best for me in the film trilogy because it falls far short of the tension of the first film and the overwhelming emotional offensive of The Last Shot. This is definitely the weakest link. Yet this three-part cinematic epic would not be complete without "DDRibanna".
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