Four of the Apocalypse (Lucio Fulci, 1975)

Although there's nothing to specifically recommend this film, I rather enjoyed its bizarre melancholy. It would be a mistake to deign to finger its lack of polish amateurish; there's an element of that, to be sure, but I think its employment is intentional—as is the film's ghostly hippie-folk soundtrack and snow-heaped climax (probably in homage to the much-superior McCabe and Mrs. Miller). There's a chilly disconnect, at times, and director (and future gore aficionado) Lucio Fulci's inclusion of some pretty gruesome flesh-removal scenes seems out of place. (Unfortunately, the rape seem does not, as is the standard for most spaghetti westerns good and bad.) There's nothing to learn or take away, but I was really taken with the weight of sadness these characters carry with them, and I was surprised by the sheer volume of scenes containing grizzled men fighting—and losing—battles to keep tears from streaming down their faces.