Triumph Of The Will (1935): Might Makes Reich?

This is the infamous propaganda film by Leni Reifenstall (A. Hitler, executive producer) of the 1934 Nazi Party Congress and rally in Nuremberg, Germany. After the war, Reifenstall called it a mere documentary, but this was hagiography, pure and simple; and there was nothing “mere” about it. It is one of the greatest political propaganda pieces ever made. Certainly there was nothing like it in its day.

Despite the irrefutable evil wrought by Hitler, the Nazi movement and the German people generally, some of which was already widespread at the time this picture was made, and notwithstanding the subsequent horrors of the holocaust and the Second World War, I have to admit “Triumph” is an impressive, powerful cinematic work. And, despite its high level of manipulation, it is still a documentary of great interest. More than seventy-five years later, it is still mesmerizing. And chilling, knowing what we know.

Hitler hired Reifenstall to make a propaganda film of this four day political rally, and the event was planned and staged with this in mind. From the beginning, the priority and latitude given to the director and her crew is evident.

The movie commences with a prologue that simultaneously expresses appreciation for Hitler’s agenda and of the historical nature of the film's contents :

On September 5, 1934

20 years after the outbreak of the Great War

16 years after the beginning of German suffering

19 months after the beginning of the German rebirth

Adolph Hitler flew again to Nuremberg to review the columns of his faithful followers.

This is followed by an aerial view of lovely white, puffy clouds, presumably as seen from Hitler’s plane as he approaches the Nuremberg airfield. Then the Fuehrer’s plane lands and he exits, smiling. There’s a motorcade into the old, medieval city, with cheering crowds, beaming German faces, etc.

The rest of the film glowingly documents the speeches and mammoth gatherings of the next three days: tens of thousands of uniformed farmers and laborers (the Labor Service [Reichsarbeitsdienst ]) in military formation, presenting arms with spades , rather than rifles; thousands more Hitler Youth; and a final mass gathering of at least 150,000 SA and SS troops on the final day. It is estimated that over a million Germans participated or attended this Nazi rally.

Why is this so interesting? For one thing, there are fascinating and revealing shots of the ordinary people, the exuberant Deutsche Volk: a collage of closeups - beaming, blond mädchens, beautiful little children with their proud and patriotic mamas; young people in traditional Bavarian costumes; wholesome young soldiers at their bivouac, preparing for the big event, shaving, horsing around, smiling with virile confidence – juxtaposed with sweeping shots of the vast crowds, almost swooning with joy and pride. These images tie into a primary theme of the film: that Germany has awakened, is on the rise, rebuilding, moving forward - no longer a defeated nation, no longer struggling, no longer governed by ineffective leaders. The German people (or at least those included in Riefenstahl’s film) are experiencing a sense of newfound unity, rebirth, patriotic fervor. A motion picture is worth a thousand words, and we are able to witness here, in ways that history texts cannot adequately convey, the uplift and national pride in 1934 Germany.

After all the negative press of the last seventy years, after all the focus on the fear, degradation, and oppression visited on the victims of the Nazis, it is easy to overlook the fact that for the majority of German citizens, the Nazi movement was very popular. Recalling all they’d been through - military defeat, government collapse, humiliating reparations, hyperinflation, the evaporation of economic security, a great depression, social tumult, paramilitary street battles, red scares, and a dysfunctional democracy - helps us understand how and why the National Socialists came to power in the first place, and thereafter stayed in power, despite their excesses and eccentricities, and how they were later able to sustain the war effort for as long as they did. The crowd loved what these Nazis were doing for Germany. They were “faithful followers” indeed. We see this in every frame of this movie.

Of course, power is another theme of the film, which attempts to glorify the growing strength of the new Reich, with the usual shots of tanks, guns, marching troops, uniformed brass, flags and the iconic and still powerful symbol of all this, the swastika. All of this, of couse, against a well known backdrop of Brown Shirt terrorism which helped bring the Nazis to power in the first place.

And there is Hitler and his cohort. There’s Rudolph Hess, Herman Goerring, Joseph Goebbels, and the rest, and short excerpts from their speeches. Mostly, though there is Hitler, the Leader. Hitler smiling at the children, Hitler saluting from his motorcar, or rather, acknowledging the salutes and acclamation of his people, Hitler speaking – preaching really – to the crowd in front of his hotel and to the tens and hundreds of thousands on the parade grounds, sternly, passionately exhorting the soldiers and the nation to follow him into the glorious future. Curiously, my reaction to seeing all this footage of Hitler and his high command was surprise at how unimpressive they appeared. They seemed so ordinary, lackluster even. How, I kept asking myself did they fool so many people into thinking they were superhuman. The banality of terror … .

Another fascination of “Triumph”, for me at least, is how the cinematography works to further the propagandistic aims of the work. For its day, Riefenstahl’s techniques were state of the art. Aerial photography, swooping shots of the crowds on the street and the massed military on the parade grounds, moving cameras in vehicles, long shots juxtaposed with close-ups, military pomp side by side with intimate personal moments, exalted leaders immediately followed by the faces of rapt listeners. There is also effective use of patriotic iconography: soldiers, flags, torches, mass salutes, swastika banners, swastika monuments, swastikas everywhere. And then there’s the pairing of music with these images. Music is omnipresent, operating as a thematic and emotional soundtrack throughout the film - again, for its day an innovation. The opening starts with Wagner’s Die Meistersinger (of Nuremberg)which transforms into the infamous (and creepy) Horst-Wessel Song, which was the Nazi anthem. Later, we get military marches and other martial material, and more Wagner (Götterdämmerung) and , following the immense crowd’s rousing , repeated Sieg Heil salutes to Hitler, a close with the Horst-Wessel song again, sung by the multitude:

       Clear the streets for the brownshirts,
       Clear the streets for the stormtroopers!
       Millions are filled with hope, when they see the swastika,
       The day of freedom and bread is dawning!

The film does not mention Jews or Hitler’s anti-semitic theories. In fact there is little reference to racial politics at all; other than an allusion in one or two speech excerpts to the German ‘race” and to ridding the nation of ‘elements’ that are bad. I imagine that any anti-Jew diatribes were left on the cutting room floor. They might not play well in the West. I’ve no doubt everyone present knew all about the Nazi themes of anti-semitism and racial purification.

 “Triumph” was released commercially in Germany and was a big hit. It was thereafter shown internationally to a mixed reception.

My mother, a German Jew, was born in Nuremberg and was about 15 years old when the events depicted took place there. What must she have felt as a million people converged on her town to cheer on a regime that stood against her and her family, her right to participate in her own society, her right to exist? My paternal grandparents were murdered by the protagonists a few years later in Auschwitz. Needless to say, I have no sympathy for the people or the Movement depicted in Triumph of the Will. But perhaps because of my family history, I’ve always been interested in how the Nazi brutes and ideologues came to power, and how the German people reacted to them. This film does not really answer the “how” question, but it certainly captures the mood of a time and place.

If all this sounds interesting, you should check it out. The film is a bit long at 114 minutes, but watch as much as you like.


Available on Amazon, Vudu, AppleTV, YouTube, and other services.

Unknown (2011): Let's Keep It That Way

What can be bad about a movie with Liam Neeson? Well, quite a lot, actually! If you went to the movies much in late 2010 or early 2011, you've probably seen the trailer for Unknown. It actually looked kind of interesting. Guy goes to a convention with his beautiful wife; gets bonked on the head in an accident; returns to the convention only to find that his wife doesn't know him and claims to be married to another fellow, who has stolen his identity. Could be a cool story here, but sadly the writers (Oliver Butcher and Stephen Cornwell) and director Jaume Collet-Serra can't seem to find or concoct one. What we have instead is a "thriller" that makes no sense, and a movie probably not worth your time.

Unless you like exciting car chases. Because there are a couple of slambang action scenes in this picture, with cars crashing, bad guys shooting at good guys, explosions, great stunt work, etc. Problem is, this action could be transposed into any number of action movies and really has very little to do with this one. Other problems are that the dialogue is embarrassingly bad, and the plot - even with, or maybe because of, the surprise twist at the end - does not work.

Liam Neeson, at age 59, is way too old to be doing action movies like this, although he does a creditable job here, despite the fact he has little to work with. Pairing him with 32-year-old January Jones, as his ostensible wife, is pushing the May – December envelope a little far. I love January Jones in Mad Men, but she really can't act – not that she has to do much of that here. On the other hand, Diane Kruger turns in a very nice performance as a tough taxidriver, who gets caught up in the action with Neeson.

There are also some nice turns by Bruno Ganz as a former Stazzi agent who gets interested in helping Neeson, and by Frank Langella as a, um, 'colleague' of Neeson. But their work is wasted on this insipid film.

I like thrillers, I really do. I like thrillers about lost identity, like the Bourne trilogy, or Memento. Unknown isn't in that league. It's not in the league of lesser films such as the recent Hanna or The Adjustment Bureau.

There are way better ways to spend two hours.

Available on BluRay or DVD (if you must)

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943): Who Is This Guy?

This is a surprisingly good film made in England during the worst of WWII in England, under the most trying of conditions (political as well as military). Made by the remarkable team of Michael Powell (director/writer) and Emeric Pressburger (writer/producer), Colonel Blimp is a warm portrait of a misunderstood man, and also a comment on generational change, as well as the passing of the old order, and possibly civilization itself, with the coming of modern warfare.

There is no character in the movie named Blimp, or even referred to by that name. The title derives from a satiric British editorial cartoon character with that moniker, popular in the 1930’s and early ‘40s, by the artist David Low. “Colonel Blimp” in these political cartoons was an old school fool of a British military officer, fat with a droopy walrus mustache, usually depicted in a steamroom, presumably at a stuffy old gentleman’s club, wrapped in a towel, spouting stupid reactionary drivel to some other old guard gent.

The film relates the story of a British military man, Clive Wynne-Candy (Roger Livesey), who at the commencement of the picture is a stout old retired general, with a silly old-fashioned droopy mustache, the head of the regional “home guard,” charged with protection of the English homeland in the event of a German attack. War exercises are to start at 12:00 a.m. A young lieutenant, playing the enemy general, preemptively attacks, and quickly captures General Candy, wrapped in a towel, at his bathhouse. (OK, get the reference now?) Candy blusters and rages at the young officer: What’s the meaning of this? How dare you, sir? You’ve broken the rules! War doesn’t start until midnight! To which the junior officer replies that there are no rules in THIS war.

These first scenes are the frame for most of the rest of picture, which flashes back to 1902 and fills in Candy’s life story from the turn of the twentieth century through WWI and eventually back to WWII. We see him as young officer just returned from the Boer War in South Africa, having earned the Victoria Cross for valour. He is not fat and stuffy; but rather , he’s dashing, impetuous, and patriotic. Indeed, these latter qualities impel him to rush off to Berlin, where he meets the lovely Edith Hunter (Deborah Kerr), insults a cadre of German officers, and, as a result, honor requires him to fight a duel – using sabers(!) - with a young German officer, Theodor Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). Both are honorably wounded, Candy receiving a nasty scar on his (stiff) upper lip, which he will hide with a lifelong mustache. During their recuperation, Theo and Candy become fast friends. Both also fall in love with Edith, although Candy does not realize his feelings (the dork) until after Theo and Edith become engaged. This entire sequence, by the way, is told in a light and humorous – occasionally hilarious – style.

Years pass. During WWI, the two friends find themselves on opposing sides. At war’s end, Clive meets a young nurse, Barbara (Deborah Kerr, again), to whom he is immediately attracted because of her resemblance to Edith. They marry, and settle into a period of peacetime bliss. His comradeship, with Theo, though strained, continues . The passage of time is quirkily (and by modern standards, appallingly) depicted by the ever increasing accumulation of hunting trophies on the walls of Candy’s study. Candy, by now a Brigadier General, eventually retires. By the start of the Second World War, both of Candy’s loves, Edith and Barbara have died. Theo has moved to England to escape the Nazis, including his brown shirt sons. Candy is too old to re-take his commission and go to war, but he is given command of the regional home guard. We are nearly back to where we began, but with a rich understanding of this old, stout general now. Yes he is old school, overly formal, and rule bound as many older folks are. But he is oh-so-human. We know he is no Colonel Blimp, despite the attitude of the young officers who have ‘defeated’ him. And unlike the caricature “Blimp”, Clive Candy is capable of change, and does change.

Incidentally, if you are a fan of the BBC/PBS series, Foyle’s War – which depicts England’s home front and the home guard during this period – you will find an uncanny antecedant to Foyle’s driver, Samantha (aka “Sam”)(Honeysuckle Weeks) in Candy’s WWII driver, Angela “Johnny” Cannon (Deborah Kerr, yet again).

The cinematography by Georges Perinal is inventive and gorgeous. How they were able to film in Technicolor in the midst of the war is a mystery. Unlike other color films of the era, there is nothing garish or eye-popping about the palette; it just looks good.

Throughout, the acting in Blimp is superb. Kerr manages to bring a different personality and look to each of her three roles and is a delight, particularly as Edith and as Johnny. Livesey strikes just the right balance between British propriety and heartwarming sensitivity, and Walbrook is very appealing as the thoughtful, cultured and, ultimately, moral German friend.

In the midst of the war, the idea that a German, particularly an officer, should be depicted as a decent and honorable man nearly led to the banning of this motion picture. Churchill himself tried to shut it down (perhaps also because he took the “Colonel Blimp” reference personally!); and although that gambit failed, export to the U.S. was not permitted until after the war in Europe was over. (In fact, a complete version of this picture was not available in America until the mid 1980’s.) The initial critical reception was mixed, but it is now generally regarded as one of the great British films of the 20th century. Yet, as Powell himself noted, with some pride, while this was “a 100% British film”, the cinematographer was French, the music was composed by a German Jew, the writer (Pressburger) was a Hungarian Jew, the costume designer was Czech, one of the lead actors was Austrian, etc. Quite a lot of European talent was in Britain during the war, for obvious reasons, and no doubt this contributes to what I would call the “generous” attitude of the picture.

While not exactly an antiwar motion picture, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp does not glorify war, not even the ongoing one. It does vilify the Nazi regime, and espouses the view Germany must be defeated, but this is not laid on too thick. It is not a propaganda piece, but an ambivalently honest musing on the state of affairs. There is the odd mourning for the passing of the old ways, along with an exhortation to face up to change. As the opening sequence suggested, WWII was no gentleman’s war. The old rules didn’t apply. Near the end of the film, a patriotic speech that Candy was to give over the BBC is cancelled. His text excoriated Nazi scorched earth war tactics - such as bombing refugees, shooting bailed out pilots, destroying hospitals and so on - as barbaric, but went on to suggest it might be better to accept defeat than to adopt such dishonorable tactics in order to prevail. Theo tells Candy that his code of honor is an anachronism. ”If you let yourself be defeated by them, just because you are too fair to hit back the same way they hit at you, there won't be any methods but Nazi methods! If you preach the Rules of the Game while they use every foul and filthy trick against you, they will laugh at you! They'll think you're weak, decadent!”

Watching and thinking about The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp has driven home to me the importance of cultural and historical context in our understanding and appreciating films from another time or place. The use of the “Colonel Blimp” reference is one example. The situation in wartime England, where the intended audience was experiencing a ferocious war and unprecedented sacrifice on the home front, is another. Here at least, the spoken language is English. Yet, I no doubt missed or misunderstood a lot of the satire. When I think, for example, about the many Italian films I’ve watched over the last year – from the neorealist films of the postwar period through to the comedies and social satires of the late ‘50s and the 1960’s, I can’t even begin to understand all that I’ve undoubtedly missed: historical context, class references, regional accents, colloquialisms, and on and on. Given these handicaps, it is all the more remarkable that we can still enjoy these movies. Yet we do.

I recommend this film. It is funny, entertaining, thought provoking, and yes, informative.

Available on DVD (Criterion Collection) and from Netflix (including streaming)

Marriage and Divorce Italian Style: Love, Death, Mastroianni (and Sophia Loren)

Divorce Italian Style (1961) and Marriage Italian Style (1964) are two very different movies, from two different (and excellent) directors, with differing intentions, different cinematographers, and mostly different casts. What they have in common is a satirical take on Italian attitudes at the time, and Marcelo Mastroianni as their leading man. Both films are entertaining and remain well worth watching. Mastroianni is always fascinating; while SophiaLoren, his co-star in “Marriage,” gives a must-see performance.

I’ve seen quite a few Italian pictures over the past year, but not many comedies; plus, these two titles appealed to the professional sensibilities of my day job. Sadly (or perhaps fortunately), although Mastroianni engages the services of legal counsel in each of these films, neither provided instruction qualifying for CLE credit.

“Divorce” and “Marriage” arrived in the U.S. a half century ago, in the vanguard of a new wave of European cinema that was garnering American attention. Films such as L’avventura  (Antonioni), La Dolce Vita and 8 1/2 (Fellini), Two Women  (De Sica),  the Leopard (Visconti)  and Boccaccio’70 (various) from Italy;  along with Shootthe Piano Player and Jules and Jim (Truffaut), Last Year at Marienbad (Resnais), Contempt (Goddard),  and Umbrellas of Cherbourg (Demy)  from France, were opening American eyes to a more “adult” style of filmmaking than much of the Hollywood product of the time.

Divorce Italian Style (Divorzio all'italiana) arrived first. Writer-director Pietro Germi won an Oscar for the screenplay in 1963 (two years after its release in Italy) and was also nominated for best director that year. At Cannes, "Divorce" was nominated for the Palme d’Or and won an award as the best comedy. “Divorce” is the story of Ferdinando, a melancholy, down at the heels Sicilian nobleman (Mastroianni), unhappy in his marriage - in fact, repulsed by his clingy, chattering, unattractive wife, Rosalia (Daniela Rocca) - who falls in love with a pretty young cousin, Angela (Stefania Sandrelli), and cultivates fantasies of a future life of bliss with the young princess. Aside from a ludicrous 20 year age difference, Ferdinando's problem here is that there is no divorce in Sicily. Undaunted, he is determined to find a way out.

Soon, Ferdinando has a flash of inspiration and a scheme (and a plot) is born. It seems that in the traditional and chauvinistic society of mid-century Sicily, and by extension, southern Italy as well, killing one's wife is not necessarily a bad thing; in fact, if she is having an affair, it is the manly thing to do. All Ferdinando has to do is catch her in the act, and knock her off in the heat of passion. He might get three or four years for manslaughter, but then he’ll have the rest of his life to spend with Angela, his little angel. [This is not much of a spoiler, as this set up is developed in the first 20 minutes of the film.] For the rest of the movie, we get to watch Ferdinando try to arrange a love affair for his wife, as he imagines various, hilarious closing arguments by his melodramatic, Shakespearean defense lawyer (Leopoldo Trieste) at a presumed murder trial.

A great moment in the movie is when word spreads throughout the village that Rosalia has run off with another man. Ferdinando does nothing except walk around with a hangdog expression. At first he is pitied, but soon sympathy turns to scorn, and then to outright ostracism, because he is not chasing after her to seek revenge. (This is what he was waiting for!)

Mastroianni’s  character is the center of "Divorce". He is silly, woebegone, bumbling, dreamy and yet strategic throughout. Handsome, of course, but in an effete, world-weary sort of way. His performance is wonderful, but only one of the reasons to seek out this film. The other is the indelible images  (beautiful black and white cinematography) and impressions presented to us of life in a small Sicilian town in which everyone knows everyone else's business, in which church, family, social hierarchy and conservative values are paramount, and in which taboos abound but are frequently broken.  The picture takes us to and satirizes another time and place. As it lampoons the moral hypocrisies of these Sicilian villagers, we are encouraged to consider our own.  I found it funny, but I expect it was even more amusing and on point to the Italian audiences of its day.

One inside joke: Fellini's film La Dolce Vita  (released the previous year) is featured in an important couple of scenes in "Divorce".  Posters are everywhere, featuring an iconic image of Anita Ekberg. It is the talk of the village.The priest denounces it. Everyone flocks to see it on its opening night. The male star of that film was, of course, Marcello Mastroianni!

Although Divorce Italian Style did not invent Italian cinematic satire, it was much imitated, and gave rise to the linguistic term describing the genre: commedia all'italiana.

Marriage Italian Style (Matrimonio all'italiana), obviously named to capitalize on its predecessor, is another commedia all’italiana picture, perhaps more usefully described as a romantic comedy.  A comedy by Vittorio deSica? De Sica of neo-realism fame? The director of The Bicycle Thief (1948) and Umberto D (1952), two of the bleakest movies ever made? Yep! But don’t fear: like the best romantic comedies, “Marriage” has a conscience and a heart, too - in this case embodied in its central character, brilliantly portrayed by Sophia Loren.

As the film opens we meet wealthy, sophisticated,  middle aged businessman Domenico Soriano (Mastroianni again) as he is making final arrangements for his marriage to a pretty, much younger, cashier at one of his shops. He gets word that there is an emergency: Filumena, his mistress is ill, very ill. He needs to come right away. He doesn't have time for this, but, annoyed, he rushes off to see what’s up. His attitude changes when he first lays eyes on Filumena (Loren). She is wan and weak, lying in her bed, whispering his name. She appears to be dying, and two doctors confirm the diagnosis.  Domenico feels terrible. He has been involved with this woman for 22 years. With the encouragement of the parish priest, he grants Filumena her last wish and marries her.

But wait, it's a trick. She's not really dying. She does feel entitled to intervene, however, in Dommi’s plans to marry the young babe. Filumena has not only been his mistress for these 22 years, she took care of his dying mother, she managed his bakery business, and she put up with his philandering and his other crap all that time. He owes her, she tells him in no uncertain terms.

About this time, the film flashes back to tell the story of Dommi and Filumena's relationship, starting with their meeting, during a World War II bombing raid, at the Naples brothel where she worked as a prostitute, through a lustful courtship and  several vignettes from their life together. As the story unfolds, and this is really Filumena's story, we meet a beautiful, illiterate and endearing young woman and watch her grow into the tough, loving, soulful and intelligent middle-aged mistress we met at the beginning. We learn her secrets, we feel her pain, we root for her.

This is one of Sophia Loren’s best roles, multifaceted, sexy, complicated, and completely human. As we watch, she takes us on a journey which starts as an appreciation of her (considerable) outward beauty and develops into an appreciation of her strength of character and inner truth. The woman could act! It also bears repeating that she was gorgeous – one of the all-time screen beauties in a very competitive field. She owns every scene she's in. There is a great moment early in the picture where Loren, as young Filumena, is going out with Dommi. She is wearing a light print dress. She is happy, smiling. She sashays down the street and every guy along the way, young and old, stops what he's doing and stares in admiration. Couldn’t help themselves!   [and yes, fans, Sophia is near the top of my  “girlfriends” list – a hall of famer, in fact)

Domenico is good-looking, of course, but not a likable character. He is arrogant, self-centered, chauvinistic, and patronizing. We have little sympathy for him, although he does provide many comic moments, as we watch him squirm.  All these years, he thought he was in control, but we come to realize the power Filumena has had over him. When he learns of Filumena’s deepest secret, he reacts boorishly (but, typical of this picture, comically). There is a wonderful chemistry between Mastroianni and Loren (which may explain the many pictures they made together). Surprisingly, it is not sexual chemistry, but more a symbiotic male-female relationship. They are remarkably comfortable together.   When Domenico and Filumena argue, we believe they mean it. As they struggle with rapprochement, we feel what they feel.

This is a comedy, and there are laughs; but there are also tears. It is more than just a "whore with a heart of gold" story, more than just an early version of Pretty Woman (1990). The movie is a commentary on the sexual politics of the time. For most of his life with her, Domenico saw Fillumena as a sexual object, and later as a possession. We come to see Filumena as a woman with depth of experience:  joy, bitterness, motherhood, victimization, triumph. She is sexy, but so much more.

De Sica’s films of this period are seen by some critics as a fall from grace, a sell-out, compared to his earlier work. I disagree. I loved Umberto D, and I admire The Bicycle Thief (although it’s too long). The fact that “Divorce” is a more commercially entertaining film does not detract from its power or its richness. And De Sica knew how to bring out the best in Sophia Loren. Despite her looks and ability, she made a lot of clunkers, so let’s give the director some credit here!

It may be hard to appreciate in our own libertine times, but “Marriage” dealt frankly with matters that American films, still under the sway of the infamous Motion Picture Production Code, simply skirted or ignored: sex, prostitution, cohabitation, out-of-wedlock children, etc. This openness and honesty, within the confines of a romantic comedy (as opposed to, say, a documentary) must have been titillating and refreshing to 1964 audiences. The influx of such movies no doubt contributed to the greater openness in our cinema beginning later in the decade. The “Code” was abandoned in 1968.

One more word about Marcello Mastroianni: David Thomson, the great film critic/historian, describes him this way: “Melancholy and postcoital disenchantment shine in his eyes.” His characters convey “a mixture of advertised sex appeal and actual apathy verging on impotence.” Having just watched these two films, I think Thomson’s got a point. In “Divorce”, Ferdinando was not interested in sex; not with his wife (who was interested) and not with his dream girl, Angela. In “Marriage”, Domenico frequents brothels, is certainly attracted to Filumena, and apparently was catting-around with other women, but this seems to have had more to do with power than with lust. There is an air of apathy and disappointment in both of these roles. I recall similar attitudes in his L’avventura and 8 ½ characters. Nevertheless, women of my acquaintance seem attracted to him despite, or maybe because of, these attributes.

Both films are available as DVDs from Netflix; Marriage Italian Style is also available for streaming.