MISTER SCARFACE, a.k.a. I Padroni della città. (Italy / West Germany). USA: PRO International Pictures, 1977; dubbed. Jack Palance, Harry Baer, Al Cliver, Edmund Purdom, Vittorio Caprioli. Director: Fernando Di Lio.

   Sometimes you get exactly what you pay for. In my case I paid 99c plus shipping for both halves of a Jack Palance double feature on DVD, of which this is one. Half, that is. If you call it a dollar for this one, it’s worth about half of that, plus 85 minutes of viewing time.

   Which I wouldn’t have spent it weren’t worth viewing, but I’m certainly glad I didn’t spend three bucks. The transfer to DVD was terrible. Color bursts and scenes shot in darkness coming out muddy and shadowy where shadows are not supposed to be can really spoil your mood for a movie. (The other half, The Four Deuces (1975, with Carol Lynley), may make the deal come out a steal, and as always, I will let you know.)

   The movie was filmed in the slums of Rome, or so I’m told, as I didn’t recognize anything anywhere at any time, but truthfully I’ve seen worse slums. The Italian ambiance must make all the difference in the world. “Scarface” Manzari (Jack Palance) is the head of one gang of crooks and thieves, and young, overly brash Tony (Harry Baer) is a bag man for another. Determined to rise in his own gang of crooks and thieves, headed by Luigi Cherico (transplanted British actor Edmund Purdom), Tony takes Scarface for ten million lira, of which he hands only three million back to Luigi.

   Does Scarface take this lying down? No, of course not, you know what I mean? Jack Palance glowers a lot and handles his long cigarette holder with consummate ease, but he looks far, far away from what a few IMDB viewers variously call a powerful and exciting Italian gangster film, with an “imposing” performance by Palance. None of the above is precisely true, but beyond that, we are only arguing matters of taste.

   Comic relief is provided by Vittorio Caprioli, as an aging gangster who, after being dumped by Tony’s gang, casts his lot with the brash young lad. Both of their performances are worth watching. The long shootout at the end would have been boring and utterly without redemption without the former’s humorous ineptitude, for example.

   Even so, the long shootout at the end manages to come awfully close to that inscrutable, indefinable boundary between good and just plain awful. Or depending on your mood at the time, perhaps the line is crossed not only once, but several times, in this last burst of highly choreographed diorama (or low drama) of cars, motorcycles, guns, guns and more guns.