"The Birds, the Bees and the Italians" is a delightful and enjoyable comedy of manners "Italian Style" with a kitschy and catchy soundtrack that sounds like a combo of Anton Karas 'Third Man' and Nino Rota's '8½' themes, the music gets stuck in your mind like melted cheese on a plate after the pasta's gone, it's both irresistible and irritating but it does serve a purpose: to give a playful resonance to a rather serious subject, too serious to be treated with solemnity, the days of neo-realism were over, comedy became the key. So the music is comedic because there's something tragicomic in the psyche and hubris of Italian society's upper strata... and something cathartic in a film that makes men's flaws laughable, if not forgivable.
Si signor, under their facade of marital respectability, conventions, white coats or gray-flannelled suits, these Italian men want to have fun, they want to have sex and for the most tragic case, they want to find true love. What have all these elements in common? They involve friends and mistresses and activities that generally do without the 'Signora', another social burden to get accommodated with. Indeed, in their ideals of escapism and fun, religion and appearances are like a jail and the wife is the chain with the ball. That the topic is treated in a lighthearted way doesn't deprive the film from the criticism regarding its male-centered version of a hedonistic life as if women didn't want to have fun too.
Still, one shouldn't get the wrong idea about it, the original title "Signore & Signori" is there to show that the film gives an equal weight to both sexes. By an interesting irony, the film will win the Golden Palm that year along with the similarly titled and more celebrated Claude Lelouch's "A Man and a Woman". Once again, the Germi's movie gives more presence to men, maybe because the director has a more acute perception of the weaknesses of his peers, but the fact that men are the main protagonists is not saying much, they all have jobs, good situations, a social importance and the debonair confidence of self-accomplishment in their 40s/50s but they're closer to "Pagliacci" figures than Roman warriors. Their ordeals are all portrayed in a way that makes us laugh with them and at them too.
The film is divided in three acts: in the first one, a man's impotence is treated like a running gag and a deserved subject of mockery (there's a nice twist at the end). Then the second story focuses on a husband who's stopped wearing the pants and endures his wife's insults and condescending comments with stoicism... and ear plugs. Though it's not fair to overlook the other actors but mentioning their names wouldn't ring a bell, they're no Mastroiannis, Tognazzis or Gassmans but their relative anonymousness for the non-expert eye gives the film a subtle touch of authenticity. However, I've got to mention Gastone Moschin who plays the most endearing figure of the film, and the most memorable. This is a tall man built like a Commendatore (he was the intimidating Fanucci in "The Godfather Part II") but who becomes Pinocchio when he's confronted to his nagging wife. The way he falls in love with the little cashier girl is adorable and sweet, almost Comedia Dell'Arte, and resisting the temptation to make the story darker than needed, Germi makes the emotional impact as effective by sticking to comedy.
The wife can be regarded as a villain in the segment but she's only good at using the system as an instrument to avenge her hurt pride, it's fair game in an arena where it's all a matter of saving the appearances, of pride after all. Another wife will punish her husband's infidelity by showing her naked body in a balcony, much to a passing driver's excitement. These outbursts of hysterical (and histrionic) anger highlight a recurring if not defining motif in the film: hypocrisy. Indeed, the worst possible thing that can happen isn't the fault itself but the lack of discretion. It's one thing to fool around, even the Carabineer will understand, but to expose it in front of everyone, in a society still dominated by Catholic Church, is just provocation.
Germi's not just peeking in the keyhole to see what's behind the good society's curtain, he literally kicks the hornet nest and reveal how in fact everything doesn't revolve around morality and principles but sex and money, pride and honor acting as smokescreens between these two worlds. And the film's final act of was the best way to wrap up this social exploration; by showing that even women can be loose-moralled after all, and not just the mistresses, that little twist at the end was the extra spice the film needed, the small revenge from the female side, the perfect device to maintain the film's savor, like when you need to add a little Parmesan cheese in the rest of spaghetti, or a drop of wine to conclude the dinner.
And so the finale takes us back to where (and how) it begun, to music and smiling faces as to reassess the detachment of the director, no hurt feelings, with bravura and a fine comedic instinct, Germi strikes as a great painter of people's morality, but not a moralist! Speaking of Fermi, it seems like there's just enough space in movie lovers' memory to contain names such as Fellini, De Sica, Antonioni, Rossellini or Visconti and it takes that little special gourmet taste to appreciate the likes of Pietro Germi, more craftsmen than artists, but maybe because they never felt overwhelmed with some sense of overly lyrical self-grandeur that they could make such down-to-earth little gems.
And here, I conclude my 1500th IMDb review.
Si signor, under their facade of marital respectability, conventions, white coats or gray-flannelled suits, these Italian men want to have fun, they want to have sex and for the most tragic case, they want to find true love. What have all these elements in common? They involve friends and mistresses and activities that generally do without the 'Signora', another social burden to get accommodated with. Indeed, in their ideals of escapism and fun, religion and appearances are like a jail and the wife is the chain with the ball. That the topic is treated in a lighthearted way doesn't deprive the film from the criticism regarding its male-centered version of a hedonistic life as if women didn't want to have fun too.
Still, one shouldn't get the wrong idea about it, the original title "Signore & Signori" is there to show that the film gives an equal weight to both sexes. By an interesting irony, the film will win the Golden Palm that year along with the similarly titled and more celebrated Claude Lelouch's "A Man and a Woman". Once again, the Germi's movie gives more presence to men, maybe because the director has a more acute perception of the weaknesses of his peers, but the fact that men are the main protagonists is not saying much, they all have jobs, good situations, a social importance and the debonair confidence of self-accomplishment in their 40s/50s but they're closer to "Pagliacci" figures than Roman warriors. Their ordeals are all portrayed in a way that makes us laugh with them and at them too.
The film is divided in three acts: in the first one, a man's impotence is treated like a running gag and a deserved subject of mockery (there's a nice twist at the end). Then the second story focuses on a husband who's stopped wearing the pants and endures his wife's insults and condescending comments with stoicism... and ear plugs. Though it's not fair to overlook the other actors but mentioning their names wouldn't ring a bell, they're no Mastroiannis, Tognazzis or Gassmans but their relative anonymousness for the non-expert eye gives the film a subtle touch of authenticity. However, I've got to mention Gastone Moschin who plays the most endearing figure of the film, and the most memorable. This is a tall man built like a Commendatore (he was the intimidating Fanucci in "The Godfather Part II") but who becomes Pinocchio when he's confronted to his nagging wife. The way he falls in love with the little cashier girl is adorable and sweet, almost Comedia Dell'Arte, and resisting the temptation to make the story darker than needed, Germi makes the emotional impact as effective by sticking to comedy.
The wife can be regarded as a villain in the segment but she's only good at using the system as an instrument to avenge her hurt pride, it's fair game in an arena where it's all a matter of saving the appearances, of pride after all. Another wife will punish her husband's infidelity by showing her naked body in a balcony, much to a passing driver's excitement. These outbursts of hysterical (and histrionic) anger highlight a recurring if not defining motif in the film: hypocrisy. Indeed, the worst possible thing that can happen isn't the fault itself but the lack of discretion. It's one thing to fool around, even the Carabineer will understand, but to expose it in front of everyone, in a society still dominated by Catholic Church, is just provocation.
Germi's not just peeking in the keyhole to see what's behind the good society's curtain, he literally kicks the hornet nest and reveal how in fact everything doesn't revolve around morality and principles but sex and money, pride and honor acting as smokescreens between these two worlds. And the film's final act of was the best way to wrap up this social exploration; by showing that even women can be loose-moralled after all, and not just the mistresses, that little twist at the end was the extra spice the film needed, the small revenge from the female side, the perfect device to maintain the film's savor, like when you need to add a little Parmesan cheese in the rest of spaghetti, or a drop of wine to conclude the dinner.
And so the finale takes us back to where (and how) it begun, to music and smiling faces as to reassess the detachment of the director, no hurt feelings, with bravura and a fine comedic instinct, Germi strikes as a great painter of people's morality, but not a moralist! Speaking of Fermi, it seems like there's just enough space in movie lovers' memory to contain names such as Fellini, De Sica, Antonioni, Rossellini or Visconti and it takes that little special gourmet taste to appreciate the likes of Pietro Germi, more craftsmen than artists, but maybe because they never felt overwhelmed with some sense of overly lyrical self-grandeur that they could make such down-to-earth little gems.
And here, I conclude my 1500th IMDb review.