Django

Corbucci drags a coffin through the mud for two hours and mostly it contains a machine gun. Franco Nero's drifter walks into a border town split between Klansmen in red hoods and a Mexican militia, and plays them off each other until almost nobody is left.

It is filthier and more nihilistic than Leone, and it was banned in Britain for decades over a scene involving an ear. Dozens of unofficial sequels used the name Django with no connection to this film, which is its own kind of tribute.

The mud is the point. Everything here is sinking into it.