Alright, grab your popcorn, maybe adjust the tracking slightly in your mind's eye, because we're diving headfirst into a glorious slab of late-70s European action-comedy goodness: Michele Lupo's 1978 classic, They Called Him Bulldozer (or Lo chiamavano Bulldozer if you were lucky enough to find an imported tape). Forget slick, forget subtle. This is pure, unadulterated Bud Spencer magic, the kind that filled countless Saturday afternoons and late-night video sessions. Finding this gem tucked away on a shelf felt like striking gold – a promise of hilarious smackdowns and grumpy heroism.

The setup is simple yet perfectly effective for showcasing the big man. Bud Spencer, whose real name Carlo Pedersoli always sounds impossibly sophisticated compared to his onscreen persona (and let's not forget he was an Olympic swimmer!), plays the titular "Bulldozer." He's a former American football megastar, now disillusioned and adrift, whose boat engine conveniently conks out near the Italian port town of Livorno. Stranded, he finds himself caught between a gang of local hustling youths and the arrogant, bullying American GIs from the nearby Camp Darby military base. Sound familiar? Maybe a little, but the execution is pure Spencer.
Bud Spencer is the movie. His sheer physical presence dominates every frame, but it's the weary resignation mixed with simmering power that makes him so watchable. He’s the gentle giant who just wants to be left alone, but trouble, inevitably, finds him. Spencer had this incredible knack for portraying immense strength with an air of almost bothered reluctance, punctuated by those signature open-handed slaps and forehead thumps that sounded like cannon fire on old TV speakers. It’s a performance style utterly unique to him, honed across dozens of films, often alongside Terence Hill. Interestingly, Spencer initially turned down acting, focusing on his swimming career and later other ventures, only stepping into film properly in his late 30s – a 'late bloomer' who became an international icon.

The conflict brews beautifully. The local kids are charmingly scrappy underdogs, constantly getting into trouble, while the GIs, led by the sneering Sergeant Kempfer, are textbook antagonists. Kempfer is played by none other than Raimund Harmstorf, a familiar face in European cinema, often playing imposing figures. But the real casting coup here is Joe Bugner as Orr, Kempfer's muscle. Bugner wasn't just an actor; he was a serious heavyweight boxer, a former British and European champion who famously went the distance with Muhammad Ali twice. Knowing this adds a genuine layer of physical credibility to his role – when he squares off against Spencer, you believe these are two seriously tough individuals, even amidst the comedic chaos. Filming took place largely around coastal Tuscany – Viareggio, Livorno, Tirrenia – giving the film a distinct, sunny, slightly gritty seaside atmosphere that feels authentic.
Michele Lupo, who directed Spencer in several other hits including the equally enjoyable Bomber (1982), knew exactly how to stage these encounters. The action isn't about intricate martial arts; it's about glorious, cathartic, almost cartoonish violence. Remember how real those punches and slaps felt back then, despite the exaggerated sound effects? That’s the magic of practical stunt work. No CGI wire-fu here, just burly stuntmen taking falls, crashing through tables, and reacting with comical agony to Spencer’s effortless-looking blows. There's a raw energy, a feeling that people are genuinely getting knocked around (safely, of course!), that modern, hyper-edited fights often lack. The sheer impact felt different on those fuzzy CRT screens. One particularly memorable scene involves Bulldozer single-handedly dismantling a group of GIs in a bar brawl – it’s pure Spencer symphony, a masterclass in his particular brand of physical comedy and intimidation.


Okay, let's be honest, They Called Him Bulldozer isn't aiming for deep philosophical insight. But beneath the brawls and the jokes, there’s a familiar, comforting theme of the outsider finding a reason to care again, siding with the underdogs against arrogant authority. It taps into that classic movie trope of the reluctant hero, and Spencer embodies it perfectly. The eventual plot turn towards coaching the local kids for a climactic football game against the GIs feels completely earned within this framework. It’s predictable, maybe, but deeply satisfying.
The score, often a key ingredient in Spencer/Hill films, likely provided by the legendary Guido & Maurizio De Angelis (though credited differently on some versions), hits all the right notes – catchy, upbeat, and perfectly complementing the on-screen action. Back in the day, this film was a massive hit, particularly in Italy and Germany where Spencer remains a cultural phenomenon. While maybe not a mainstream blockbuster in English-speaking markets initially, its discovery on VHS and cable cemented its status as a beloved cult favorite for fans of the genre.

Why? Because They Called Him Bulldozer delivers exactly what it promises: prime Bud Spencer doing what he does best. It's funny, action-packed in that specific, wonderful Euro-action way, and full of charm. The practical fights are a joy to behold, the supporting cast is solid (especially the inspired casting of Joe Bugner), and Spencer's grumpy charisma carries the whole thing effortlessly. It might feel simple or formulaic by today's standards, but its heart and humour are timeless. It loses a couple of points perhaps for some pacing lulls and the sheer predictability, but honestly, that’s part of the comfort food appeal.
Final Thought: This is the kind of movie that defined finding unexpected joy in the video store aisles – a testament to the era when a grumpy Italian powerhouse playing an ex-footballer could deliver some of the most satisfying, practically-rendered smackdowns you’d ever see. Still gloriously watchable.