Better a Widow (1968): don’t mess with the milk mafia (I think)
Meglio vedova (Better a Widow) // dir. Duccio Tessari // Italy
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.
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…
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 vision
the zoom
the vision
the zoom
the vision
the zoom
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.
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
more milk
also milk
mafia milk
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!
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—
—I would wear this man’s garishly colored outfit tomorrow if I had it on hand.
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.
This woman cackling while mailing letters is my avatar in this film, and also my hero.
This
sadly not milk.
Or this moment.
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.
Thank you Kate again for making this possible! <3
-Meg
five cinematic lockdown halloween costumes
Just because we are stuck inside, I don’t think we need to entirely give up Halloween costumes this year. We just gotta adapt and use what we have on hand.
Halloween is nearly upon us, and here in the United States, we are all either stuck at home or forced to work in the public during a pandemic. Regardless, there is no safe Halloween party fun going on. And nowhere to go to show off our carefully crafted looks.
Mostly, this is fine by me, because I will never be able to top my look last year of Keanu’s John Constantine. THE ABSOLUTE POWER I HAD. I have never looked or been cooler. I was sauntering. I spent two solid days post-Halloween wondering if I should get forearm tattoos. It was a time to be alive.
(For my pre-pandemic day job at a children’s informal learning institution, last year I went for a more child-friendly costume of last-minute Lionel Messi [we aren’t gonna talk about how I realized I somehow had full Barcelona kit—including shorts and socks] complete with a mate gourd, and two little girls seeing me from the back got very excited and whispered to each other: “It’s him! It’s Messi!” But, then, I turned around, and no one in the history of ever has been more disappointed to see my face then those small children. Sorry!)
ANYWAY. All of this rambling chatter to say, just because we are stuck inside, I don’t think we need to entirely give up Halloween costumes this year. We just gotta adapt and use what we have on hand. So, with that in mind, I present five nearly ready-to-go costume options from movie favorites past and more recent past: presented in order of me thinking of them while writing this post.
1. Maxwell Frere in Dead of Night (1945), as played by Michael Redgrave
Now, this is really getting into spooky season. I am honestly leaning most heavily to making this my personal Halloween costume.
Need:
Mascara
Eyeliner
Single Tear
Feeling of Dread of Being Abandoned By Your Only Friend (who is also your worst enemy and is also ventriloquist’s dummy)
This is a great costume idea! Super low-effort, but with great spooky returns. One tip: make sure your mascara/eyeliner is not waterproof as you will want it to properly smear when you get upset. It’s optional, but you can also consider a great mirror set-up to stare into while in emotional agony. If you don’t have a mirror, staring out the window is a great option too.
2. Alex Wyler in The Lake House (2006), as played by Keanu Reeves
This is for you if your approach to the season is something a little less spooky and a little more cozy.
Need:
Cozy, Zip-up Pullover
Many Tears
Pot of Soup
This costume just says oooh, I love quarantining alone and enjoying a pot of soup that I made myself. To be completely accurate, you will need to talk to your soup (and other inanimate objects around the house): in the film, Keanu famously says, “Come to papa!” while pouring out his soup into his bowl. For an optional extra bit of spice, consider becoming pen pals with someone a couple of years in the future, and/or spending time alone working through a painful parental relationship. It’s all up for grabs costume-wise, as long as you remember to cry copious empathetic tears throughout.
3. A Ghost in The Uninvited (1944)
This costume may require some outside materials, but nothing you won’t be able to reuse at a later date. It’s also very spooky!
Need:
Mimosa Perfume
Tears (to taste)
Unfinished Business (optional)
This costume is great if you want to truly make your presence known with a big splash. You just need to apply a little bit o’ mimosa and wander about your home wailing. OR, you just douse some spots in your house in mimosa and then whenever you walk by these areas—it will be super freaky and as if you are haunting yourself. The best part about this one: absolutely no crafts or construction needed, but you may need to buy mimosa if you don’t have it on hand. I know I said the unfinished business is optional, but really it does make the costume pop—so consider it what takes things to a next level.
4. Bella Swan in Twilight Saga: New Moon (2009), as played by Kristen Stewart
Okay, so this going to be the first costume in this list that—crucially—does not require tears, so if those are not readily on-hand for you, then this might be the best option.
Need:
Hoodie (or sweatshirt)
Flannel
Sweats (or other comfortable pants)
Long Underwear (optional)
Chair
Window
Absolute Saddest Song You Know
I do not claim to be an expert on Bella Swan’s wardrobe, so if you want a more in-depth how-to on the costume, I will recommend this wiki-how that promises to teach you how to dress like Bella Swan: “Do you love Bella? If so, this article will explain how you can dress and look like your idol!”
The key to this costume is actually making sure you do not cry any tears. Absolute crushing sadness is however on the table. Sit in a chair, stare out your window, and play the saddest song you know—and you will have absolutely nailed this seasonal cinematic look. Check out the video below for more in-depth inspiration.
5. Anne Elliot in Persuasion (2007), as played by Sally Hawkins
Some of us love a more historical costume—something that lets us leave our current century and think about the past possible versions of ourselves, or just to dabble in some ornate old fashion. This is the look for you, and thankfully it’s a simpler spin on the classics.
Need:
Extremely Greasy Hair (that appears to have been unwashed for quite sometime)
Eyes Glistening with Unshed Tears
Longing
Regret
Journal
This is a look for Halloween 2020. While you should have most of the supplies on-hand, it does require a bit of advance preparation when considering the hair. Do not wash it for as long as it takes to work up a greasy sheen if that is possible with your hair. If you cannot work it up to a greasy sheen, at least make sure to pull it as severely away from your face as possible. While the stoic unshed tears look is the most obvious variety of Anne Elliot, you do always have the option of full-on sobbing if you like that version more. Journaling about everything going on around you (or not going on around you) while occasionally stopping to look straight into an optional camera is the best way to complete the look.
I hope these have given you some helpful options for the upcoming indoor holiday. Stay safe in there!
Also, also, lol, you know I was not gonna end this post without some shots of my 2019 Meg LIVING THE ABSOLUTE DREAM TO BELIEVE !!!! (those are candy cigarettes—nothing untoward is allowed in these asthmatic lungs of mine):
byeeee! Be back soon for more 1966 posts—got temporarily distracted by an extremely ludicrous television program that I am honestly going to leave nameless until I finish it and can determine whether or not I can retcon my watching it as being me appreciating an underrated masterpiece.
-Meg
“Now, if by so much as a raised eyebrow, you attempt to betray me…”
The Fiction-Makers (1968) // dir. Roy Ward Baker // United Kingdom
The Fiction-Makers (1968) // dir. Roy Ward Baker // United Kingdom
Ms. Klein: Well, why don't you die of shock?
Simon: Well, I just did.
Ms. Klein: So, what's holding you up?
Simon: Rigor mortis.
Ms. Klein: Try bending.
I adore the agent of pure chaos that is Roger Moore as Simon Templar. The man loves to cause trouble and stir things up and occasionally step in to right wrongs, but mainly his purpose is essentially to troll the powerful, rich, and ridiculous by uh, *checks notes* also being powerful, rich, and ridiculous.
It’s an inside job.
In The Fiction-Makers (a 2-part episode edited into a feature film), we get a delightful plot revolving around Simon Templar being mistaken as the writer of a series of spy novels and getting kidnapped (along with the actual writer, a woman who writes under a male pen name) by a group of criminal super-fans who have decided to create a criminal organization based on her fictional series villains.
ABSOLUTE CHAOS.
It’s very probably intended to be a gentle mockery of Man From U.N.C.LE. (at one point a character is reading a celeb magazine that features Robert Vaughan on the back cover), and it is truly delightful to see. It opens with typically-meta Saint moment with Simon watching a film version of a spy movie starring someone who suspiciously looks quite like him (Roger Moore’s body double???) going through the motions of a fight scene that Simon is calling out for being rote and obvious (he names each movement as it goes).
And let me tell you, Simon Templar snob movie critic talking DURING a movie is exactly why he so often veers into the chaotic evil side of the realm.
Sylvia Sims plays the author Amos Klein / Ms. Darling, and she does incredible work here. An absolute energy match for Roger Moore, and that does not often happen. Roger Moore’s Simon Templar is so perfect because he is such a ball of silly energy expressed in a cool and calm demeanor. (This is why Roger Moore’s early ‘70s fashion choice to strictly wear white button-ups with ruffles for a period of time is endlessly iconic: finally he could look formal and ridiculous at the same time!)
Sylvia Sims has that vibe down perfectly, and together they absolutely float through this playing two people who know they are so charming and clever beyond everyone else that they can just be erratic and fun and still end up on top.
Also, she looks real good—iconically hot—in her spectacles that she wears on a chain, and she, and I, and Simon Templar all know it.
Anyway.
This was quite a bit of fun fluff and joy, and there is something so very satisfying about watching absolute ridiculousness presented with such skill and competency. I highly recommend.
Here is a taste of the sublimely silly and somewhat surprising final 30 seconds that I still have questions about tbh and these few screencaps cannot do justice to the wild, but here ya go—
-Meg
Ride in the Whirlwind (1966): the people demand more Harry Dean Stanton!
Ride in the Whirlwind // dir. Monte Hellman // United States
Ride in the Whirlwind // dir. Monte Hellman // United States
ooh buddy. Continuing on with my 1966 series, I decided to check out this western (there is another 1966 western that lives inside my brain that will be subject to an extensive post at some point: Duel at Diablo).
I was not expecting
a) to be truly moved by it
b) to be actually impressed by my nemesis Jack Nicholson
c) to find my fall 2020 fashion inspo!
Yet, here we are and 2020 gives me one more shocker. Let’s start with point c.
Harry Dean Stanton’s look, minus the guns it must be said, are absolute goals: scuffed boots, striped trousers, white button up, slouchy vest, jaunty bandana on the neck, and—crucially—eyepatch! (the hat may be a step too far for me to pull off sadly)
Everyone looks cool in an eyepatch: Bret from Flight of the Conchords, Snake Plissken, Rosamund Pike in that biopic I have in my watchlist because Rosamund Pike has an eyepatch in it…
That is the kind of low upkeep/high impact look I am in the mood for this season. Harry Dean, we STANton! (I’d show myself out, but this is my blog. Sorry.)
For real, I love Harry Dean Stanton and the chaotic energy he brings to every piece. I love him in the same way I love the prince of the darting eyes and villainous 1960s tv guest spots—Bruce Dern. <3
Watching HDS brought back a fun memory of visiting the Velveteria in LA’s Chinatown last year with a pal. An entire “museum” dedicated to velvet paintings, and Harry Dean Stanton had his own little corner.
I would also like to give a style shout-out to Millie Perkins’ relatable eyebrows.
And, now for a short excursion to point B, I was genuinely fine with Jack Nicholson in this film he wrote and produced as well as starred in. That was entirely unexpected from me, and honestly, maybe he could have quit here while he was ahead? No need to disturb a generation with the injustice of Something’s Gotta Give (2003).
In this film, his Wes had little to say, but was still the character most invested in having a life and being human.
^a quiet moment of all-too-human grief that hit perfectly
Ride in the Whirlwind has a spare, austere, empty quality that works a charm at taking the absolute air out of western cowboy mythic cinema. It very nearly plays as a Twilight Zone-esque existential horror. Perhaps it is too slow, too inactive to get there, but it is certainly concerned with the existential.
The western cowboy myth relies on the denial of genocide. The refashioning of conquest as a noble fight. Destruction as romantic adventure.
Westerns are the American fairy tales: they have form, convention, and style that can reach the height of cinematic aesthetic pleasure. Westerns make up some of the most aesthetically satisfying films. The style can be so strong it holds back any questions about truth and reality.
Time and existence is narrowed to right and wrong / good and evil, and there is a purpose for each person in the myth (even if that purpose is just to die as third henchman bank robber).
What Ride in the Whirlwind does is pull us out of that that systematic and set convention, and ask the question, “What if there is no point?”
I was struck by how much pointless death there was in this film, and it’s honestly not a high body count western. Nor, are we in basically any way given reason to empathize or care about most of the characters who die. But the feeling of futility just hangs there the entire runtime.
The truth of this culture and society built on genocide is corrupted and listless humans.
Everyone in the film is going through the motions of life. Sure, everyone fights to survive and outlive their opponents, but it seems a fight just to continue existing—there is no actual desire or spark or purpose.
Wes and his two companions are mistaken as thieves and pursued, because of a citizens justice vigilante gang (chilling!!!)that only exists to find and kill methodically all who have wronged “society.” The actual thieves are thieves because it is how they exist and survive in society. There’s no grand plan here.
The settler cabin Wes and Vern (Cameron Mitchell) take refuge in is occupied by a man, a woman, and their teen daughter. None of them have a single spark of life between them. The man hacks endlessly away at a stump in the yard, stopping only when his daughter comes out to prepare his wash basin and call him into the meal his wife has prepared. All three living in endless patterns of motions.
Wes asks Abigail her age, and her response is devoid of anything.
They are just three more ghosts living in a world with no value for humans, or anything else. Humanity was lost when a world was built on active genocide and bloodshed and destruction, and then the denial—first that it was wrong, and then that it happened.
The one incongruous note in this all is Wes. He doesn’t have purpose or direction, but he is stubbornly connected to the tangible. He complains about being tired, he complains about blisters, he complains about being weak, he complains about being hungry, he complains about being bored, and he complains about being sad. It gets almost annoying, and the other characters react in as much bewilderment as they can muster in their apathy. Why does Wes care about blisters on his feet? Why does it matter?
Wes’ restlessness holed up in the cabin for mere hours is fascinating, and honestly all-too-familiar to those of us who have been primarily confined to our homes for months and months now.
I have been unemployed for a couple of months now, and Wes’ unease about inactivity hits real well. I am 26, and I had previously been actively employed since I was 13 years old. In our society, production is the point. And, being removed from productivity removes a sense of purpose—removes my pattern of motions.
To actually and fully break with the motions is to claim dignity and humanity and community. People over product. To acknowledge and remove the evil, corrupted foundations of society and radically build new ways. I hope we get there.
I also wanted to note for this film, that a Black man is lynched (alongside a white man), and that is a moment of historically, violent imagery that is included here somewhat perfunctorily in the same fashion as the rest of the inhumane, listless violence. The lynching has much higher levels of white supremacist/racist contexts that are not explored in this film at all (except through whatever the viewer brings to it). There should be purpose to including such a scene of particular violence, and I do not think this film hit that mark at all.
-Meg
Harry Dean Stanton and Rupert Crosse love to stay safe wearing their masks in public! <3
Daisies (1966): love to scam for food with my ladies
Sedmikrásky (Daisies) // dir. Věra Chytilová // Czechoslovakia
Sedmikrásky (Daisies) // dir. Věra Chytilová // Czechoslovakia
For a movie with such a critical reputation, instantly recognizable imagery, and a full eleven years sitting on my watchlist—I was still honestly surprised and overwhelmed with delight finally seeing Daisies for the first time. An absolute dream.
And, an absolutely perfect film to begin on this 1966 series—it bursts with everything I love about 1966 (and life in general): garish colors, INTENSE FASHION, chaos, a political spirit, and girls and women having a great time.
I want to focus on that last piece in particular here.
I do not feel able to competently address the political elements of this film in the context of the Soviet Union or critiquing government systems, so I am not going to even try. Instead, I want to talk to about women gorging themselves on food!
The anarchy of young women out to “spoil” themselves by indulging. It brings me pure delight. With her reckless two Maries, Chytilová taps into those deepest felt feelings of femme-socializing: the safety, weightlessness, and mutual joy. Those moments of feeling powerful together, and outside the constraints of this world. It is all too fleeting though. The world is there, and it does crush. Marie I and Marie II scam the broken system of patriarchal power to feed themselves, and have a wonderful time as long as they keep eating. The pressure remains though; the melancholy returns—especially in the few solitary moments they spend apart.
An unchanged system of power always reverts in the end. The world would explode if you just let young women live unconstrained! THE HORROR! THE TERROR! THE GLUTTONY! THEY ARE HAVING A GREAT TIME!
Every film that truly understands friendships between women has scenes of women eating food together. We love to snack! We love to feast! We love apples and giant jars of pickles (literal pickles). This deep into pandemic lockdown, I am 100% ready for a disgusting egg-milk bath with my best friend while we chow down on a loaf of bread. Please!
This was one of the most delicious looking food movies I have ever seen. I was famished almost instantly, and had to make a late night snack to survive the onslaught of the senses. I am already willing to put it as #2 to Tampopo’s undefeated food movie champ.
Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: 1) Friendship, 2) Food, 3) Scamming Rich Old Creepy Men, 4) Societal Chaos
I love to vicariously experience reckless abandon in these (troubled and) isolated times. I know it sounds indulgent, but a communal feast with my femmes is the cure for the symptoms of what ails my soul at most times (a brutal, inhumane, capitalist, white supremacist patriarchy).
All I really want right now is just canned pumpkin, so I can make decadent soft pumpkin cookies, but the pumpkin harvest is late and there is no canned pumpkin. I frantically searched the grocery store shelves before googling “CANNED PUMPKIN SHORTAGE” for my answer. They say the pumpkin is coming…
Joyful anarchy is never quite divorced from consequences, whether societal or communal, but it can be a delicious chaotic break.
-Meg
1966: cinema loud
1966 is my favorite year in film: across all genres, filmmakers, and languages. 1966 cinema is stylish, wild, inventive, thrilling, and anarchistic.
There are films going on pure vibes and bright colors (ahem Modesty Blaise) and significant cultural works like Ousmane Sembène’s ‘La Noire de...’ (Black Girl) with its anti-colonial perspective that still reverberates. 1966 is a year with films outside the US-Euro stronghold reaching both prominence and global audiences. For me, it’s a year that typifies, at their best, movies as entertainment spectacle, as an art medium, and as a carrier of empathy.
I have made a list of about sixty 1966 releases to watch and profile here (twenty being rewatches, and forty being new-to-me).
Looking forward to a year full of unconstrained films!
1) Daisies
3) Little Light
4) Umbrella
-Meg
cinema’s hottest coupleTM
plus bonus cinema’s second hottest couple™
Machine Gun McCain (1969), dir Giuliano Montaldo. A forgettable film with absolutely bonkers dubbing (why are you dubbing Gabriele Ferzetti, you cowards!) and no Falk-Cassavetes onscreen fun, but it does give us 8 beautiful minutes of pure charisma and presence when Gena Rowlands strolled onscreen. Love to be dazzled by cinema’s hottest couple™.
The Drowning Pool (1975), dir Stuart Rosenberg. A meandering film, and not in a good way: boring. (also extremely queasy exploitation of Melanie Griffith). The actual drowning pool sequence is delightful. But, I digress, ad I am really here to talk about cinema’s second hottest couple™. Joanne Woodward showing up to give us the caftan-wearing, lounging about goods.
-Meg
GIVE US THE MACHINE GUN LOVERS PREQUEL WE DESERVE! GIVE US ROWLANDS + CASSAVETES BONNIE & CLYDE!