Dragging A Coffin Through The Mud

If a film begins with a man dragging a coffin through the desert mud, then you may be in for quite a ride. If the man then immediately observes a gang of sadists whipping a woman, and the gang are themselves suddenly shot by another gang wearing red scarves and hoods, and the red gang want to burn the woman at the stake instead of whipping her, then yes, you are into the deep psychological waters of the film Django. It is 1966, and your director is the Italian Sergio Corbucci. One of the other Sergios who made spaghetti westerns. Ah, but the term spaghetti western doesn't quite cover it, does it? Too cartoonish and stereotypical. Too non-threatening, too patronizing. Italian western. There, that's better. It's scary stuff. The machismo is pushed beyond real, the sadism, the weird images of a parallel-universe version of the Ku Klux Klan in red instead of white, the ear removal, decades before Reservoir Dogs. The red hoods were supposedly inspired by the ugliness of the available extras, but what else is driving that decision? Why all the mud? And what exactly is in that coffin our hero drags around? You'll see.