While I appreciated the aims of this film, I really do not feel that much of the humour worked at all. The story was intermittently engaging but, every few minutes, Peckinpah would stick in something truly irritating or obnoxious, including use of speeded up footage to show characters in panic which became tiresome very quickly.

Other debits: some truly awful songs. The opening ballad was so toe-curlingly hideous that I almost switched the DVD off there and then. And while Jason Robards was not yet fifty when he shot this film, he looks like the grandfather of love interest Stella Stevens.

I am, on balance, glad I did not, as there was just enough worthy stuff in here to make it worth a look. Best of all was David Warner's amusing preacher, whose motives are largely ambiguous but who one finds oneself rooting for, and missing whenever he disappears from the picture. A very good performance by an under appreciated actor.

Not a disaster, but certainly a disappointment. Whatever Sam Peckinpah's merits as a director - and some of his films are certainly iconic and important - it can be argued that a lightness of touch was not one of his strong suits. 5/10