A Sunday morning sermon out West, on the serpent and the dove, gentle and wise.
One’s no good without the other, saith the Lord.
So the rancher on his little spread is in mess after mess, what with the neighbors, and the hornswoggler leaps from campaign to campaign unsuccessfully. They intersect, to mutual bane and boon, and just escape with their lives by paying off a forced labor scheme with Confederate money.
Fred Williamson, Richard Pryor, with Thalmus Rasulala in a brilliant turn as a crusty merchant on wheels with two lovely daughters.
The surreal displacement from Miami to snow country receives a second movement simultaneously, almost a slow-motion mirror, as the cop’s family slaughtered on a sunny day by escaping bank robbers with consistent transportation problems slowly spread across the snow as deputies wiped out by the same gang.
The cop left for dead heads north, the sheriff winds up half-alive in the snow, the masked robbers repeat their exploit but are eliminated one by one.
A sophisticated eye for architecture informs the cinematography, this tells the tale as much as anything else.
They even infiltrate the police department, roaring, growling, raving bloodsuckers.
A lady special agent from the Pope joins a police detective and his stepson (newly-graduated from the Academy, on a Winnebago honeymoon after a drive-thru wedding) and a couple of tourists (one played by the director).