Arkansas, circa 1865: After losing the final battle of the Civil War, sexist, sadistic Conferate commander Wishbone Cutter (a gruff, intimidating, but fairly restrained turn by the often overly hammy Joe Don Baker, here giving one of his better, less blustery and bombastic performances), faithful half-Irish, half-Native American companion Moon (beautifully essayed by Joy Houck, Jr., a good, engaging actor who usually toiled away in forgettable junk unworthy of his talent), and laid-back geologist Amos "Teach" Raymond (affable Ted Neeley, who played God's only son in "Jesus Christ, Superstar") venture into the dense, remote, uninviting Arkansas wilderness to unearth a diamond stash located on a sacred Indian mountain that's rumored to be guarded by territorial demons. Along the way the motley threesome pick up the comely, beguiling Drucilla Wilcox (the mesmerizingly winsome'n'willowy Sondra Locke, whose pale, haunted, crystal-clear blue eyes are vaguely redolent of Meg Foster's otherworldly orbs), the lone shell-shocked survivor of a brutal Indian attack. Pretty soon the quartet is being terrorized by some mysterious assailant(s). Could they be a strange tribe of inhospitable Apaches? Or is it the lethal woodland spirit Chikara, who rules over hawks and doesn't take kindly to interlopers trespassing on its terrain?
Writer/director Earl E. Smith, who wrote both "The Legend of Boggy Creek" and "The Town That Dreaded Sundown" for Charles B. Pierce, does a superlative job of keeping the viewer on edge, adeptly creating a spooky, yet somehow oddly plausible and flavorful period tone which slowly, but surely grows on the viewer as the film gradually, carefully, and skillfully reaches its genuinely chilling and startling conclusion. The top-notch acting greatly contributes to the film's overall gritty credibility, with particularly nifty bits by the ever-scummy and unnerving unsung Western supporting villain John Davis Chandler as a repulsive backwoods psycho, Dennis Fimple as a grizzled, cloddish fur trapper who refers to the forest spirits as "haints," and the magnificent Slim Pickens in a lovely, touching cameo as Virgil Cane, a sweet old-timer who's fatally wounded early in the picture and tells Cutter about the cache of diamonds right before he dies. The rousing, ferociously rough and pulverizing opening battle sequence starts the film on a stirring and striking note, with excellent, poignant use being made of the Band's terrific, tearful ballad "The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down." There's also some surprisingly vicious violence that one doesn't always see in a PG rated flick (e.g., the scene where Cutter removes an arrow from Raymond's arm is especially painful) and plenty of supremely creepy skin-crawling enigmatic "what's really going on here?" atmosphere. Quirky, low-key, and above all refreshingly different and original, "The Shadow of Chikara" is undoubtedly the finest, scariest and most exceptionally well-crafted horror-Western to ever grace celluloid. It's an unjustly forgotten little jewel of a sleeper that's well worth the extra effort to dig up and check out.
Writer/director Earl E. Smith, who wrote both "The Legend of Boggy Creek" and "The Town That Dreaded Sundown" for Charles B. Pierce, does a superlative job of keeping the viewer on edge, adeptly creating a spooky, yet somehow oddly plausible and flavorful period tone which slowly, but surely grows on the viewer as the film gradually, carefully, and skillfully reaches its genuinely chilling and startling conclusion. The top-notch acting greatly contributes to the film's overall gritty credibility, with particularly nifty bits by the ever-scummy and unnerving unsung Western supporting villain John Davis Chandler as a repulsive backwoods psycho, Dennis Fimple as a grizzled, cloddish fur trapper who refers to the forest spirits as "haints," and the magnificent Slim Pickens in a lovely, touching cameo as Virgil Cane, a sweet old-timer who's fatally wounded early in the picture and tells Cutter about the cache of diamonds right before he dies. The rousing, ferociously rough and pulverizing opening battle sequence starts the film on a stirring and striking note, with excellent, poignant use being made of the Band's terrific, tearful ballad "The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down." There's also some surprisingly vicious violence that one doesn't always see in a PG rated flick (e.g., the scene where Cutter removes an arrow from Raymond's arm is especially painful) and plenty of supremely creepy skin-crawling enigmatic "what's really going on here?" atmosphere. Quirky, low-key, and above all refreshingly different and original, "The Shadow of Chikara" is undoubtedly the finest, scariest and most exceptionally well-crafted horror-Western to ever grace celluloid. It's an unjustly forgotten little jewel of a sleeper that's well worth the extra effort to dig up and check out.