BFI introduction: This anthology of stories set on the day of a big football match in Rome
is a fine example of ‘pink neorealism’ – a sub-genre of films that
melded working class characters with 1930s-style populist comedy. An
entertaining satirical drama, it features terrific location shooting and
Loren in an early serious role, playing a melancholy widow trying to
chase down her lover, an unfaithful lawyer.
Time Out review: One of the very finest epics produced by Samuel Bronston, equally impressive in terms of script (by Philip Yordan,
who mercifully steers clear of florid archaisms) and spectacle. Charlton Heston
is aptly heroic as the 11th-century patriot destined to die in the fight
for a Moor-less Spain, Mann's direction is stately and thrilling, and
Miklos Rosza's superb score perfectly complements the crisp and simple
widescreen images. Sobriety and restraint, in fact, are perhaps the
keynotes of the film's success, with the result that a potentially
risible finale (in which Cid's corpse is borne into the realm of legend,
strapped to his horse as it leads his men to battle) becomes genuinely
stirring. Geoff Andrew
The daddy of midnight movies this was a weekly feature of the
late-night cinema circuit in London in the 70s and 80s and is showing from a 35mm print. Not to be missed.
I'm busy re-reading Colin McCabe's BFI Film Classics book, a wonderful introduction to what the author calls "the greatest British film ever made."
Time Out review: Nicholas Roeg's debut as a director is a virtuoso juggling act which manipulates
its visual and verbal imagery so cunningly that the borderline between
reality and fantasy is gradually eliminated. The first half-hour is
straight thriller enough to suggest a Kray Bros documentary as James Fox,
enforcer for a London protection racket, goes about his work with such
relish that he involves the gang in a murder and has to hide from
retribution in a Notting Hill basement. There, waiting to escape abroad,
he becomes involved with a fading pop star (Mick Jagger) brooding in exile
over the loss of his powers of incantation. In what might be described
(to borrow from Kenneth Anger) as an invocation to his demon brother,
the pop star recognises his lost power lurking in the blind impulse to
violence of his visitor, and so teases and torments him with
drug-induced psychedelics that the latter responds in the only way he
knows how: by rewarding one mind-blowing with another, at gunpoint.
Ideas in profusion here about power and persuasion and performance ('The
only performance that makes it, that makes it all the way, is one that
achieves madness'); and the latter half becomes one of Roeg's most
complex visual kaleidoscopes as pop star and enforcer coalesce in a
marriage of heaven and hell (or underworld and underground) where the
common denominator is Big Business. Tom Milne
Chicago Reader review: Stanley Donen’s follow-up to Charade is not quite the tour de
force the earlier film was, but even with Gregory Peck and Sophia Loren
standing in for Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn, it’s a slick and
satisfying entertainment. Watch for the unforgettable Eisensteinian
moment when Donen cuts from Loren’s mouth to a steam shovel. Dave Kehr
This film is part of the Stephanie Rothman season at the Barbican. Details here.
Chicago Reader review: High comedy and progressive sexual politics in an exploitation film—you
can only imagine the puzzled expressions on the faces of the drive-in
moviegoers of America when they encountered this little gem by Stephanie
Rothman back in 1972. Three men and three women attempt to set up a
communal relationship in a Los Angeles suburb as the neighbors look on
with shock and envy. Whenever the situation threatens to drift into
Aquarian platitudes, Rothman rescues it with a deft application of
gentle wit and affectionate eroticism. Dave Kehr
Time Out review: So-FEE-uh and Mar-CHELL-oh! That was surely the major draw for
audiences who flocked to Vittorio De Sica's frivolous, Oscar-nominated
dramedy---which examines the tempestuous relationship between prostitute
Filumena Marturano (Sophia Loren, radiant even sans makeup) and playboy
Domenico Soriano (Marclello Mastroianni, delightful as a slick-haired rake)---and
it's the only reason to see it now. Not that there's anything wrong with
that: Star power can make up for a lot, and these two burn extra
bright. The opening's a grabber, as Filumena, seemingly at death's door,
is carried to her bed by a crowd of neighbors while the self-involved
Domenico, busy trying on hats, is called to her side. Cue a pair of
lengthy flashbacks---one from each character's perspective---that trace
the duo's decades-spanning love-hate affair. History rolls along
("Eisenhower elected U.S. President!," screams a newspaper
headline---must be 1952) while Filumena and Domenico deal with ebbing
and flowing attractions, illegitimate children and a fraudulent wedding.
Then the wet-eyed stuff comes: sacrifices, reconciliations and a
marriage (in da style of de Italianos) for real this time. De Sica is no
stranger to jerking one's tear ducts, but the central duo here doesn't
have anything approaching the emotional resonance of, say, a pair of
bicycle thieves or an old man and his dog living on the street. Yet we
still get Loren and Mastroianni. So why complain too churlishly? Keith Uhlich
This film is part of the Stephanie Rothman season at the Barbican. Details here.
Chicago Reader review: Humanism in an exploitation film, believe it or not. Actually, the only
condescension director Stephanie Rothman makes to the genre is to have
her actors take off their clothes once in a while; the rest is a
surprisingly sensitive study of youthful aspirations and conflicting
interests among three female friends. It may be stiff and awkward at
times, but it shows a heart of genuine talent. With Elaine Giftos, Karen
Carlson, Barbara Leigh, and Reni Santoni; this 1970 film was the first
produced by Roger Corman for his New World Pictures. Dave Kehr
