Homages and pastiche of the trashy (and highly influential) 60s and 70s film eras abound, but Western/Horror hybrids paying tribute to the European godfathers of blazing guns and gore, well, that’s rarer. Sure, the Italian Westerns of Sergio Leone, Sergio Corbucci, and Lucio Fulci have been mined to death by directors like Quentin Tarantino (Django Unchained, The Hateful Eight) and even directly referenced by George Lucas throughout the original Star Wars trilogy and by others beyond it (The Mandalorian, The Book of Boba Fett). However, filmmaker Austin Snell (Exposure), has a more precise target to hit with his genre love letter They Call Her Death. Taking inspiration from the bloody, revenge-laden extremes of the Spaghetti Western, Snell adds the tactile atmospherics of Italian Giallos and gorefests like House By The Cemetery and The Beyond (both by Fulci as well), crafting a unique mashup that satiates genre fans across a wide spectrum.
Nevertheless, despite the myriad ingredients, They Call Her Death is first and foremost a cold-blooded tale of the violent Old West. When Molly Pray (Sheri Rippel) loses her husband to a shady, trigger-happy bounty hunter (Devan R. García), she sets out to get revenge, only to find that the law is rarely on the side of common folk like her. Her path of destruction sets her against corrupt lawmen, ignorant townsfolk, and even Death himself. Although it seems like Death has other plans for Molly. The story unfolds, as one would expect, violently and shockingly, with Molly proving herself as a worthy adversary to the nefarious people who sent her husband to the grave.
Gloriously recreating the look of a film lost to time, They Call Her Death shines stylistically thanks to a strong use of location and striking production design. Like Lucio Fulci (the clearest influence amongst the pool of artistic inspiration), Snell is able to create a strong mood and sense of dread with very little. Showing how to make the most of the textures afforded by shooting with 16mm and older camera systems, Snell (serving as cinematographer, editor and writer apart from directing) takes advantage of natural surroundings with the bold framing of the Spaghetti Westerns of yore, and puts his film to the test with dense, low-lit interiors that further add to the thick atmosphere that permeates every scene. Jake Jackson’s practical makeup effects meld into the scenery as effectively as Snell’s lighting and Madeline Ingram’s authentic costume design. Shots of an all-black clad female vigilante against the American prairie are striking and perfectly pulpy, while visions of an impressively crafted, scythe-carrying grim reaper under the uncompromising Sun seem conjured up from lo-fi direct-to-video nightmares.
Some of the more recent grindhouse fare of the new millennium tend to recreate the low-budget look of 70s trash cinema by way of digital trickery, and at times practical effects are put to use in crisp, digitally shot productions, making for a jarring visual language. They Call Her Death, though not without its share of CGI additions, finds the right balance of analog production and old-school filmmaking to create an authentically retro experience. Some of the shootouts rely on CGI for gunshots, gunsmoke and blood splatter, but this is a minor quibble in an otherwise tactile and textured labor of love. When things get nastier, knives and hammers are put to good use for some truly gnarly and shocking moments of gore that would make Fulci smile from his grave.
A film like this is certainly preaching a very specific gospel, and those who respond to it will be pleasantly rewarded. The acting is appropriately over-the-top at times, but also quite grounded when it needs it. Rippel specifically as Molly is one of the film’s greatest boons. Her performance always rings true, despite how outlandish the story and violence becomes. Whether it be as a woman seeking justice for her lover’s death or a deadly revenant on a bloody path of destruction, Rippel is always believable and easy to root for. Same goes for Dané Shobe as a helpful deputy who is sympathetic to Molly’s cause. His presence provides a healthy balance with the unashamedly cheesy performances from Jeff Boyer and Shawn Nyberg, gloriously sleazy and evil in their own right as the film’s main villains. And this is precisely what makes They Call Her Death such a fun and cathartic watch: the balancing of homage with genuine storytelling. Snell and his team have grafted a style of cinema into a project all their own, and in the process have added a strong female Western hero to a genre lacking in such representation, and gave a story worth telling.
