Yul Brynner in bright blue double denim, a series of garish neckerchiefs and the kind of straw stetson dads wear on holiday is the gayest thing I've seen in a long time...and I've been watching Derek Jarman films all week.
He can slap the utterly gorgeous Daliah Lavi's arse all he wants (which he does, often) but it's fooling no one; there's just too much of an implicit homoerotic charge in his desire to have Richard Crenna's marshal as a friend and ally rather than an enemy. When Lavi kicked him in the knackers (payback's a bitch, Brynner) I reckon he wanted Crenna to massage 'em better, and there was too much of him rolling around on the floor with Leonard Nimoy's butt double too.
And speaking of nudity, I stepped out briefly so can someone explain why one of Catlow's gang was stark bollock naked in the dirt with an arrow in him?
Yup, this was one gay western.