Pose Reviews A Movie. #41: Dillinger È Morto (Dillinger Is Dead) (1969)

Marco Ferreri's 1969 feature, Dillinger Is Dead is an exemplary instance of minimalism done properly.

Frankly, I loved it. But I could definitely see how some people might hate it. After all, "exemplary minimalism" to some is probably "frightfully boring" to others. So I will do my best to present a fair and honest description of the film, and what I saw in it.

Dillinger Is Dead takes place over the course of one evening, and exclusively takes the perspective of Glauco (Michel Piccoli), a middle-aged industrial designer of protective masks.

The film begins with a short glimpse of Glauco's work-life, then moves swiftly toward documenting his evening at home. His wife is in bed with a headache (though we get the impression that she's probably on drugs), and he is left to eat dinner alone in the dining room.

Glauco's dinner has gotten cold, however, and he decides to take to the kitchen and cook himself a stunningly elaborate, multi-course meal.

When going through a cupboard looking for ingredients, however, he stumbles upon something unusual. An old, rusted revolver, wrapped in the front page of a newspaper from the day John Dillinger was killed in 1934.

Stay with me.

What makes this symbol fascinating (to me, anyway) is its ambiguity. Surely, we are meant to believe that this was indeed, at one point, John Dillinger's gun. But how did it get into Glauco's home? Has he owned it for years, and merely forgotten about it? Did someone plant it there? Was it left by a previous owner of the house? And what does it mean that Glauco spends the rest of his night repairing it?

Because he does.

With a running time of 95 minutes, the vast majority of Dillinger is Dead consists of Glauco cooking, occasionally interacting with his wife and their maid, watching some strange reels of film (including a weirdly awesome hand-dance on a sort of mirror, the entirety of which would probably be life-altering to someone who had taken powerful hallucinogens) and meticulously restoring what may or may not be John Dillinger's gun.

That's it.

But the entire time, you get the feeling that the film is building up to something profound. No matter how uneventful the majority of the picture is, you can't help but shake the sense that something big is going to happen.

And that's all I'm going to say.

(About the plot, anyway).

There is very little dialogue in the film, which makes the soundtrack feature quite prominently. And it's a cool soundtrack to boot! The film's music seems to flow in waves of genre--everything from Italian pop to American rock n' roll to salsa--and there's so much of it that you're bound to find something in there that you like.

But aside from the music, I think what I loved most about Dillinger is Dead is its commentary on modern social isolation. Because Glauco himself is a very powerful personification of isolation.

After all, he is a man who makes a living constructing masks which allow human beings to survive on their own in conditions we aren't meant to endure. We almost don't need to watch him spend an entire night in his home to know he must know a thing or two about isolation.

But to watch Glauco is to watch a modern man--alone amongst people, and obsessed with deconstructing and rebuilding an artifact from a previous age.

And I think that the point of the film is to have the audience determine what this means.

Or, at the very least, why Dillinger's gun?

This is the kind of movie with endless potential for post-film discussion.

So find your closest film-nerd friend (and I'll bet if you're reading this blog, you have at least one!) and give Dillinger is Dead a shot.

No pun intended.

Creepy Pedro Reviews "Dillinger is Dead"

Italy is the strangest movie I have ever seen.

Pose Reviews A Movie. #8: Gomorra

This can be a good movie if you go in prepared. So let me try and prepare you.

First of all, it's important to know that Gomorra has five interweaving storylines.

Five.

This is crucial, because if you're like me, and don't like to know too much about a movie before you watch it, you're going to be confused as hell.

Secondly, Gomorra is a movie about the REAL mafia. In Italy. So there's no Brando, no Pacino, and neither Joe Pesci nor Ray Liotta kick the crap out of ANYONE.

This is where the film can get a little disappointing. The real mafia is actually "kinda lame," in the immortal words of a friend of mine who saw Gomorra in theatres last summer. There's no smooth-talking, everyone seems to be hard-up on cash, and there's barely a tailored suit in sight.

Thus, it seems that the point Gomorra is trying to make is that life in the Italian mafia isn't as glamorous as Hollywood makes it out to be. In the most literal sense, crime just doesn't pay. The real mafia, as portrayed in Gomorra, is made up of petty thugs, greedy low-lives and wannabes. It's probably a very accurate portrayal, but it isn't exactly a flattering, or more importantly, an exciting one.

So if you're going to rent Gomorra, make sure you're not expecting car chases, epic shootouts or nerve-racking heists. Instead, you're going to get a picture of the ACTUAL mafia--it may be a bit dull and slow-moving by traditional standards, but it's definitely an interesting take on an established genre, and with the right attitude going in, it's actually pretty good. It manages to be aesthetically and cinematically gorgeous, while making a strong and unapologetic statement about the hazards and errors of regarding organized crime with admiration and respect.

But if you'd prefer not to stir the pot, you can always watch Goodfellas for the ninth time.

That's OK too.

Wendy's Films of 2010 #27: L'Eclisse (1962)

It seems fitting that I would praise Errol Flynn's wondrous laugh in my last review, just to go on and admire Monica Vitti's sunny laughter in Michelangelo Antonioni's L'Eclisse. Every shot of her is like looking at a stunning photograph, in fact most shots in the film are. After ending a serious relationship, Vittoria wanders the city and eventually meets a young capitalistic man who seems more eager to attain beautiful possessions than meaningful relationships. The film's meaning is vague, but also strong. Films like these seem to be more concerned with creating emotion than fulfilling a plot. Whether Antonioni is attempting to comment on consumerism, industrialization or the immensity of the world around us, it evokes feelings of uncertainty, happiness and asks questions that might never be entirely answered. Vittoria lives on the outskirts of the town, where the roads are wide, new buildings are being built and space feels too open. This is contrasted with the apartments of her male and female friends, which are filled with seemingly empty possessions, closed off with curtains and shutters. Vittoria is a breath of life into these spaces; her smile offers hope and her childlike desire to run through fields or admire a man's drawing of flowers feels like Antonioni's way of seeing through the problems she and the rest of the world encounter.

Wendy's Films of 2010 #3: 8 1/2 (1963)

Yes, I know, it's completely appalling that someone who just recently completed their film degree had not yet seen Frederico Fellini's masterpiece 8 1/2 (1963). Trust me, there will be several films on this list that I believe I should have already seen, and I'm glad to have the time and ability to explore them.

Fellini's 8 1/2 is a film that I immediately knew I would have to watch again. Besides its absorbing story and beautiful characters, it's full of things to take in and I simply don't think that it can be fully grasped with just one viewing. The struggles of being a director, the uncertainties of life and the choices made throughout it are viewed through Guido Anselmi, a man who seems lost in deliberations on love, women and his art. Take the time to view this film, which has been lauded as one of the most important films ever created, and if you're like me you'll somehow be affected to your soul without quite knowing why.