Right from the start, with a pretty awful theme song that struggles to rhyme “have a go” with “Shalako”, the writing is on the wall and it’s more graffiti than Pulitzer. A group of yesterday’s A-listers are assembled to form a hunting party traipsing the Wild West hunting at the tail end of the nineteenth century. They are led by the “Baron” (Peter Van Eyck) with the glamorous “Irina” (Brigitte Bardot), the cranky “Daggett” (Jack Hawkins) and his trophy wife (Honor Blackman) and are being guided by the duplicitous “Fulton” (a Stephen Boyd straight out of “Genghis Khan” from 1965). They need his assistance because this is Apache territory, and these folks are none too pleased that their territory is being invaded by these interlopers who dress for dinner end enjoy fine wines (courtesy of Eric Sykes) as they routinely slaughter for sport. Along the way, this unlikely group encounter the enigmatic “Shalako” (Sean Connery) who has some history with the natives which comes in handy when they attack and “Fulton” promptly skedaddles with their escort, their transport and most of their supplies. Now, a war of attrition ensues that puts the party at risk and, of course, encourages them all to expose their dirty linen and give each of these fairly insipid characters a few moments in the sun - and that’s where the whole thing just becomes a mess. Hawkins and Van Eyck are, frankly, dreadful and though Blackman tries to keep her tongue in her cheek, Bardot ought just to have stayed with her donkeys and Connery, well he really can’t seem to make head nor tail of his persona as this over-written and lacklustre drama lurches along to it’s fairly predictable conclusion. Quite why anyone agreed to produce this is anyone’s guess, but the end product has little to redeem it.