Archive for Sophia Loren

His Third-to-Last Breath

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , on December 7, 2019 by dcairns

It’s getting to be a tradition — watch a late Curtiz every December. Since Curtiz had such an extraordinarily long career (1912-1961!), he’s entitled to more late films than most people. This one is from 1960 — he would make three more and die in spring ’62.

A BREATH OF SCANDAL is from a play by Ferenc Molnar, frequent source for Lubitsch, Wilder, et al, so it allows Curtiz to visit Vienna, in sorta-kinda his native land (it was capital of Austria-Hungary when he was born in Budapest seventy-three years before).

Aaand the first joke is about senility, as an old geezer hears the Emperor referenced and rises, saluting. “Don’t try to get up,” says his somewhat younger wife, “We’ll only have to put you down again.”

I’ve been trying to locate the point where Curtiz’s films stop moving, become inert, dead things. The first half hour of this is relatively spritely, though there are markedly fewer of those elegant gliding tracking shots. But Sophia Loren, a nimble comedian as we all know, gets some laughs, blasting away with a rifle from the tower to which she’s been exiled for excess sexiness — no moping Rapunzel, she. At one point, the film makes it seem as if she’s shooting at a little girl, which made me chuckle.

Then John Gavin turns up in a jalopy — you expect the film is going to collapse into terminal petrification as he fixes the scenery with his gorgon’s gaze, but NO — even though there’s no Chinese white slavers on hand to shoot him full of curare, which generally brings out the best in him, he’s reasonably effective as a stuffy, repressed American interloper. Tiresomely virtuous, someone Loren can run rings around — a good, stiff foil for her moral flexibility.

But once the film decamps to Vienna, despite some terrific locations it heads rapidly into total sclerosis. Chevalier is on hand to provide some vespertine twinkle, but now the script requires both Gavin AND Loren to be priggish and petulant, and I got tired of both of them.

Look, Angela Lansbury!

So, Curtiz’s ability to keep a movie conscious arguably lasted until half an hour into this one, though there are decent moments in his HUCK FINN. I’m going to keep working my way back — I haven’t seen anything between this one and WE’RE NO ANGELS, which is so far the latest-period Curtiz I would rewatch for pleasure. But there are eight films in there, including several in b&w. Curtiz is generally best in b&w. It affects him like curare affects John Gavin — by subtracting something, it releases something else, and the result is entertainment.

The hats are very good in this one.

A BREATH OF SCANDAL stars Filumena Marturano; Prince Danilo; Sam Loomis; Mrs. Eleanor Shaw Iselin; Aunt Alicia; Detective Moletti; Lisa Bolkonskaya; Aramis; and Queequeg.

Neapolitan Flavour

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 1, 2019 by dcairns

Among the many things I missed in Bologna was the screening, as part of the fairly exhaustive Eduardo de Filippo retrospective, of his chapter of the portmanteau film GOLD OF NAPLES, directed by Vittorio De Sica. But Fiona saw it and liked it and so we watched the whole thing the other day.

It’s great, of course. It might even cause me to re-evaluate VDS’s WOMAN TIMES SEVEN, which I found weirdly pointless. But the stories in GOLD are nearly all “pointless” in a way, and certainly none of them wraps up in a neat conclusion that makes you go “Ah-ha!”

More like “Huh?”

But in a good way.

It’s an all-star affair (Alessandro Blasetti inaugurated this kind of thing with ALTRI TEMPI and TEMPI NOSTRI, both of which Vittorio was in), produced by De Laurentiis and Ponti and featuring their wives, Sophia Loren and Silvana Mangano (who gets the meatier part). Also appearing are Toto and his amazing performing chin, but De Sica himself gives the best performance, alongside a wee boy rejoicing in the name of Pierino Bilancioni. They play cards together, De Sica (a real-life gambling addict — thanks, David E) loses comprehensively, and he’s a lousy loser. That’s basically their whole story. The little boy doesn’t even want to play cards, he listens poignantly to the sound of his chums playing in the street, but De Sica’s count insists, and the kid’s dad is an employee.

At the end, having trounced his director through a whole series of hilarious reaction shots, and refused to admit to being lucky (“The cards know their master,” he shrugs, infuriatingly) he sits alone, bedecked with the cards his aging opponent has flung at him, then picks up a kitten by the scruff of the neck and cradles it tenderly. It’s such an odd, inappropriate ending to a piece that could easily have ended with him running out to play in the streets (which would have MADE SENSE and CONNECTED) that I had to consider it superior to any logical or organic conclusion.

Then there’s the very funny Felippo episode in which he teaches disgruntled neighbours how to blow a raspberry, and an episode showing a hearse bear a child’s body towards the cemetery. We see it leave, we never see it arrive, and that’s essentially it. The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves becomes hypnotic, the tight cluster of smartly turned out tinies parade through sidestreets and then along the main coastal road — and there’s one stunningly bold visual gag as we pass a window and see through a window a furiously rowing couple, who stop to cross themselves, one after the other, as they notice the procession, then get back to screaming and flinging imprecations at one another.

De Sica, on form, is hard to beat — the closest successor to Chaplin there’s been.

Bagman

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 6, 2018 by dcairns

I Cinema Ritrovato keeps reminding me to get into the Commedia All’Italiana school of social/sex comedy. MARRIAGE, ITALIAN STYLE (De Sica) and TEMPI NOSTRI (Blasetti) were my belated intros to the genre, which has no real definition but depends on a shared set of assumptions about what an Italian comedy is likely to entail. This year we saw DIVORCE ITALIAN STYLE and LUCKY TO BE A WOMAN, which sealed the deal. So I’ve started seeking out more.

Here’s a bit from PECCATO CHE SIA UNA CANAGLIA (TOO BAD SHE’S BAD), directed by veteran Alessandro Blasetti.

De Sica, in overcoat and mustache, has a trick valise with no bottom, capable of swallowing up smaller baggage when lowered onto it. He’s hunting for a suitable target while his equally criminous daughter, Sophia Loren, who owes it all to spaghetti, distracts attention, which she was always good at.

Nice long take starting at 50 secs mark — amazing comedic choreography of actors and camera — and, my God, De Sica is a fine comedian. How can one guy have so many talents?

Director Alessandro Blasetti had a weird career, with a lot of epics early on, a first film destroyed by the Nazis (the opening alone survives) and later works popular under fascism. In the fifties he turned to comedy and never looked back. ALTRI TEMPI introduced the idea of the compendium film to Italy, where it thrived, or do I mean throve? Doesn’t sound right. It’s a form which originally meant multiple short films by the same director, and was corrupted into those multi-part, often multinational abominations where if you were lucky you got two decent episodes out of five.

PECCATO stars Marcello Mastroianni but did not screen in the Il Cinema Ritrovato season of his many works. He plays an honest cabbie who falls for congenial congenital thief Sophia Loren, whose entire family, presided over beneficently by De Sica, is crooked to the core. The vision of Italian society presented is of a conglomeration of rapacious swindlers and imbeciles — probably an accurate one, allowing for Blasetti’s cynicism. Marcello is honest and not dopey, but love blinds him, so he is in a continual state of outrage at Loren’s low-down activities. The movie finds equal amusement in her blithe reactions — doesn’t this poor man understand the way the world is?