Better a Widow (1968): don’t mess with the milk mafia (I think)

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Meglio vedova (Better a Widow) // dir. Duccio Tessari // Italy


Settle in friends, I’m about to take you on a journey that began a decade ago and ended tonight with me watching an Italian movie with no subtitles that I think is about the Milk Mafia vs. the Wine Mafia, or is possibly a fever dream existing entirely inside Virna Lisi’s mind? Either way, I made a lot of chaotic gifs and we will be talking about them.

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The Backstory |

Take your mind back to the probably halcyon day of July 25, 2010. I have no idea what you’re doing, but 16-year-old Meg is smashing out a post on her teenage film blog written with a surprising number of winky-face emojis to ensure that you all get that it’s fun and funny. This post is a call-out literally begging anyone to find Kate and me a dang copy of Better a Widow:

If you have ANYTHING please contact Kate or I! I'd be willing to pay for it, or I'm sure Kate would be willing to trade you something (I love volunteering people for stuff without their knowledge! ;-D).

I wrote an update “still want it” post in 2011, and in 2012, I got an email from a man in Canada who said he had been searching for it for 30 years, and was currently looking through archives and cinema clubs in Italy. He asked to make a pact with me that if either of us found a copy—we’d share it with the other person. Myself, a 17-year-old living in the woods whose entire income went to pay for bills, happily entered this pact. My money was on the man scouring the archives in Italy over me searching the title on YouTube but changing the “E"s to “3”s.

He updated me on his search a couple of times, but I faded out a bit when I was in university. And then life. I thought about this movie now and then and gave it a hopeful Google, but otherwise let it simmer as always.

You know who did not fade out? Kate-Gabrielle, of course. And that brings us to today, and our triumphant screening from our respective homes on either side of the US. I had absolutely nothing to do with this, but I have reaped the rewards, and I actually forgot to ask Kate how she procured this film, but ya know trust the process.

(I did email that man in Canada. I hope he still uses that email address.)

With that all said, here we go…

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The Film |

So, probably not but maybe possible spoilers ahead. I say possible only because the film is entirely in Italian, with no English subtitles, so the plot was really just there for the guessing on my end. You can skip this section if you’re worried. My suboptimal Spanish did give me about three words per minute which I happily shouted into the chat like I had uncovered an important clue in a whodunit.

A synopsis as far as I can tell: Peter McEnery is an English guy whose job is to buy some land in Italy for an oil refinery. Two antagonistic mafia families are involved: one, the Milk Mafia (they only are seen drinking milk) wants to sell; and two, the Wine Mafia (they drink wine) do not want to sell. Milk Mafia is run by Gabriele Ferzetti and his daughter is Virna Lisi who is fascinated with the concept of a man from England (or possibly already knows this man from England), but is engaged to marry the head of the Wine Mafia. Peter falls in love at first sight with Virna, or already knows Virna pre-film. He is an absolutely dummy and would die many, many times over if it weren’t for his Italian pal who works for the Milk Mafia. Wine Mafia wants him dead because they don’t want the oil refinery (fair!), and also they want Virna (understandable, but she’s not a possession). Anyway, a lot of stuff happens, but in the end Virna marries the Wine Mafia head and he is immediately assassinated, and Gabriele now controls Milk and Wine, so he’s made it. Virna moves to England with Peter, but is disappointed, and now wants an Italian man. Fine. (That means The End, ya know.)


The Actors |

Okay, so let’s get down to business. The trio of leads here was the tantalizing dream that led me on all these years, and they did not disappoint an iota.

Virna Lisi is literally intoxicating. I felt like there was a halo of light around her at all times. She is very compelling, because she spends the entire film having these wild visions of her and Peter in England and in each one she wears a different wig. poetic cinema. She could also be remembering an alternate timeline version of herself who lives in England. Or multiple alternate timeline versions of herself hence the wigs. ANYWAY. Every vision is proceeded by a camera zoom dead into her eyes, and I have gif’d them all, because it’s what 16-year-old Meg would have also done at 5:30AM.

the zoom

the zoom

the vision

the vision

the zoom

the zoom

the vision

the vision

the zoom

the zoom

the vision

the vision

the zoom

the zoom

the vision

the vision

I LOVE CINEMA.

Peter McEnery is the co-subject of Virna Lisi’s visions, and also ostensibly our lead character. He is a lot of fun here, and absolutely 100% fully dubbed by a random Italian man. Hilariously, he makes two phone calls to the British Embassy in which he speaks English. However, these conversations are also dubbed by an Italian man with a rather prominent Italian accent. He says, “Goodie-bye,” and I became convinced that it was a triple or quadruple (I lost count) scam, and he was actually an Italian pretending to be English. I genuinely don’t know at this point.

Peter is almost always with a pipe in his mouth, and I have decided that it is entirely to obscure the mouth movements for more seamless dubbing. It really rather works.

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His character is also an absolute dummy who should have been killed at least 10 different times, but manages to trip his way away with great luck and a little silent help from buddies whom he never properly thanks. I love him.

Gabriele Ferzetti (the premiere mafia dad actor of the late 1960s), on the other hand, as the don of the Milk Mafia, is the portrait of calm and steadiness and non-stop scheming. :’)

The man loves milk and sitting in his chair and relaxing. That’s ease he is modeling for us all. Every time, he started rocking, I could only think of this but milk.

milk

milk

milk

milk

more milk

more milk

also milk

also milk

mafia milk

mafia milk

nothing you say will ever convince me that isn’t milk he’s drinking out of the tiny espresso cup

nothing you say will ever convince me that isn’t milk he’s drinking out of the tiny espresso cup

I loved the performances from these three and also everyone else in the film, and not knowing what they were saying 98% of the time took away nothing from their work.


The Style |

oh boy. Here’s where it’s a little worrying, because I realized the plot in this film made about as much sense as most 1960s style-films I love—even the ones in the English-language. Plot doesn’t matter. AESTHETICS MATTERS. (jot that down)

This film had style. The music was, quite frankly, jaunty. Everyone’s ‘fits were incredible. Virna Lisi’s headbands were iconic. The style of the ~visions~ were beyond reproach.

All that said, I was really disappointed this film opened with a shot of Gabriele wearing glasses, which he promptly took off AND NEVER PUT BACK ON. Were they worried it was too powerful a look? GIVE US BESPECTACLED FERZETTI, YOU COWARDS!

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A Gallery of L👀ks

Finally, I just want to say that these tights make me want to cry because I love them so much and also—

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—I would wear this man’s garishly colored outfit tomorrow if I had it on hand.

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This film had a lot of style in other ways too that brought me pure delight: like a late-night secret rendezvous on a boat in the middle of the most echo-filled cave alive while literally 18 people sat around listening in. All those aforementioned visions with so much detail and depth of fun in 2-minute increments. I am also quite partial to the most lawful evil kidnapping I have ever seen on film.

They really did just scoop that car up with a whole tractor and stick it in the back of a truck and called it a day.

They really did just scoop that car up with a whole tractor and stick it in the back of a truck and called it a day.

This woman cackling while mailing letters is my avatar in this film, and also my hero.

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This

sadly not milk.

sadly not milk.

Or this moment.

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If you are wondering what the context is here, there is none. This happens and then it’s over. A beautiful metaphor for my experience watching this film without subtitles. Kate and I are Peter + pal and that man on a motorcycle is the film itself.


The Conclusions |

I hope you enjoyed the scattered, confused, mostly image-based content of this piece. It was mirroring the film itself. That’s right, this was intentional meandering chaos. Absolutely intentional, and not just me at 7AM having created too many gifs and now unwilling to not smush every single one into this post one way or another.

Truly, though, I want to say that I enjoyed this film—perhaps not the way its original creators would have intended—but thoroughly enjoyed nonetheless. I sincerely and earnestly got a shot of cinematic serotonin, and I just hope that one day I can see this with subtitles (or more likely learn Italian at this rate), and I can finally understand the Milk Mafia and have it confirmed for real that that live cow that showed up and sinisterly mooed at the Wine Mafia compound was in fact intended to send a message of provocation.

Long live the cinema, and the images saved despite it all. A film meant to entertain a finite audience in 1968 that just couldn’t die and fade away before I could watch it and sink the visuals into my brain—and make a few gifs. <3 <3 <3

Thank you Peter McEnery for your stealth sweater, and Gabriele Ferzetti for restful rocking while plotting criminal takeovers, and Virna Lisi for your glowing essence which may inspire a few visions of my own.

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Thank you Kate again for making this possible! <3

-Meg

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