An Italian portmanteau film supposedly inspired by Boccaccio's Decameron (though I don't see a connection, honestly). The film was released in a truncated version in most places, with Monicelli's opening segment cut. The other three directors protested by refusing to promote the film when it debuted at Cannes.
Titled "Renzo e Luciana," it's probably my second favorite of the four films. It's just a very simple love story, a slice-of-life sort of thing. It may be a tad slight, but it's sweet and utterly charming. Marisa Solinas and Germano Gilioli play a young couple. As the film opens, they're secretly getting married, as Solinas' job as a secretary demands that she be single (probably so her boss can hit on her constantly). Gilioli moves in with Solinas and her family in a crowded little apartment. There is no privacy there. And it's nearly impossible to find it anywhere else, either. The short doesn't really have an ending, but it's so enjoyable it doesn't matter. Solinas is an incredibly beautiful woman (the women of Boccaccio '70 are definitely the major selling point).
Fellini's "Le tentazioni del dottor Antonio" is the highlight of the film. Peppino De Filippo stars as Dr. Antonio Mazzuolo, an upstanding citizen who wishes to protect Rome from temptations of the flesh. This proves especially difficult when a gigantic billboard of a scandalously dressed Anita Ekberg, with bare legs and heaving bosoms, declaring loudly "DRINK MORE MILK!" is erected outside of his apartment building one day. It attracts people from all over the city to visit and ogle and create an Ace in the Hole-like carnival right in front of it (not blocking Dr. Antonio's view, of course). After much protestation, though, the good doctor succeeds in getting the billboard's salacious elements covered. This has consequences, however, as Ekberg exits the billboard, giant-sized, to torment the man. This one is nearly as good as the other famous Fellini portmanteau segment, "Toby Dammit" from Spirits of the Dead.
Luchino Visconti directs the third segment, "Il lavoro," another more simple, slice-of-life film where a count, Tomas Milian, having been accused in the newspaper of visiting prostitutes, is tormented by his wife, Romy Schneider. It all takes place within a few rooms in their mansion, as Schneider threatens to leave Milian (and leave him poor, as the money comes from her father) and get a real job. She also insists that he pay her a prostitute's fee for all the sex she's given him for free during their marriage. This was probably my least favorite segment, but I still liked it a lot. It may be the most emotionally complex of the four.
Vittorio De Sica presides over the final segment, "La riffa." This one features the memorable image of Sophia Loren, at the height of her beauty, in a luminous red dress (and, when she takes it off a couple of times, a black bra). She runs a carnival booth, and all the men of the town are obsessed with her, frequently bothering her with their provincial horniness. She's entered in a lottery where she will go out on a date with whoever wins. Her admirers all lose the drawing to the meek, dorky sacristan of the local church and they desperately try to bribe him for the ticket. Meanwhile, the whole deal upsets the young man whom she's been seeing in her free time, and he attempts to sabotage their supposed sexual encounter. I've never been a fan of Loren, mostly because I felt she was almost too beautiful (that's definitely the reason that she bothers me so much in De Sica's Two Women), but she's wonderful here. I also really loved the performance of the sacristan (I don't see the actor's name listed on IMDb), an innocent little man who could never imagine getting within a hundred yards of a woman like Loren. His final encounter with her is genuinely touching.
The four segments together run nearly three and a half hours, but, since they have nothing to do with each other, it's easy to watch one at a time. Portmanteau films can often vary a lot in quality, and most (even this one) are forgotten pretty quickly. This one is definitely a must-see for fans of Italian cinema, or any of the individual directors. The print by NoShame is gorgeous. Unfortunately, it is out of print, but Kino is re-releasing it (apparently on Blu-Ray, too, which should look even more outstanding) in September.
Titled "Renzo e Luciana," it's probably my second favorite of the four films. It's just a very simple love story, a slice-of-life sort of thing. It may be a tad slight, but it's sweet and utterly charming. Marisa Solinas and Germano Gilioli play a young couple. As the film opens, they're secretly getting married, as Solinas' job as a secretary demands that she be single (probably so her boss can hit on her constantly). Gilioli moves in with Solinas and her family in a crowded little apartment. There is no privacy there. And it's nearly impossible to find it anywhere else, either. The short doesn't really have an ending, but it's so enjoyable it doesn't matter. Solinas is an incredibly beautiful woman (the women of Boccaccio '70 are definitely the major selling point).
Fellini's "Le tentazioni del dottor Antonio" is the highlight of the film. Peppino De Filippo stars as Dr. Antonio Mazzuolo, an upstanding citizen who wishes to protect Rome from temptations of the flesh. This proves especially difficult when a gigantic billboard of a scandalously dressed Anita Ekberg, with bare legs and heaving bosoms, declaring loudly "DRINK MORE MILK!" is erected outside of his apartment building one day. It attracts people from all over the city to visit and ogle and create an Ace in the Hole-like carnival right in front of it (not blocking Dr. Antonio's view, of course). After much protestation, though, the good doctor succeeds in getting the billboard's salacious elements covered. This has consequences, however, as Ekberg exits the billboard, giant-sized, to torment the man. This one is nearly as good as the other famous Fellini portmanteau segment, "Toby Dammit" from Spirits of the Dead.
Luchino Visconti directs the third segment, "Il lavoro," another more simple, slice-of-life film where a count, Tomas Milian, having been accused in the newspaper of visiting prostitutes, is tormented by his wife, Romy Schneider. It all takes place within a few rooms in their mansion, as Schneider threatens to leave Milian (and leave him poor, as the money comes from her father) and get a real job. She also insists that he pay her a prostitute's fee for all the sex she's given him for free during their marriage. This was probably my least favorite segment, but I still liked it a lot. It may be the most emotionally complex of the four.
Vittorio De Sica presides over the final segment, "La riffa." This one features the memorable image of Sophia Loren, at the height of her beauty, in a luminous red dress (and, when she takes it off a couple of times, a black bra). She runs a carnival booth, and all the men of the town are obsessed with her, frequently bothering her with their provincial horniness. She's entered in a lottery where she will go out on a date with whoever wins. Her admirers all lose the drawing to the meek, dorky sacristan of the local church and they desperately try to bribe him for the ticket. Meanwhile, the whole deal upsets the young man whom she's been seeing in her free time, and he attempts to sabotage their supposed sexual encounter. I've never been a fan of Loren, mostly because I felt she was almost too beautiful (that's definitely the reason that she bothers me so much in De Sica's Two Women), but she's wonderful here. I also really loved the performance of the sacristan (I don't see the actor's name listed on IMDb), an innocent little man who could never imagine getting within a hundred yards of a woman like Loren. His final encounter with her is genuinely touching.
The four segments together run nearly three and a half hours, but, since they have nothing to do with each other, it's easy to watch one at a time. Portmanteau films can often vary a lot in quality, and most (even this one) are forgotten pretty quickly. This one is definitely a must-see for fans of Italian cinema, or any of the individual directors. The print by NoShame is gorgeous. Unfortunately, it is out of print, but Kino is re-releasing it (apparently on Blu-Ray, too, which should look even more outstanding) in September.