On Screen

...It is chiefly the work of Giuliano Montaldo, who directed and, with Fabnzio Onofn, wrote the script Montaldo was assistant to Gillo Pontecorvo on that remarkable pseudodocumentary...

...The Battle of Algiers, and some of the same techniques, much of the same moral fervor, and a little ot the same excellence can be found in this film It was shot mostly in Ireland, and, as a former improper Bostonian, I could not help marveling at how right the look is—though admittedly, I was not around at the time of this infamous '20s trial Theie are a few errors in detail British spellings like "Defence Committee" or "Fruit Centre," and, I am told, a license plate on a car is wrong Still, the feel of an older Boston and its environs is persuasively present This is particularly important in a film that appropriates documentary techniques, and generally strives for historical accuracy Even Stanley Kauffmann, who disliked the movie, conceded that it tended to tally with the facts That matters, because it would be regrettable if this terrifying case of human injustice and juridical inhumanity were seriously falsified for the sake of anything—even art Though minor liberties, I dare say, were taken, no substantial pret-tification was allowed Even too romantic truths, such as Edna Malay's riding a white horse around Boston Common in behalf of the condemned anarchists, are omitted After a slam-bang stait, the film dawdles a little, and we are exposed throughout to a garish ballad composed by the brilliant Enmo Mor-ncone (proving that even brilliance is fallible) with ghastly words written and sung by Joan Baez A press conference with Secretary of State Palmer is suitably sinister, but does not blend stylistically with what precedes and follows, and thus produces a bit of a letdown The body of a defenestrated anarchist hurtles through the air, the haunting shot is later repeated as a refrain, but only once or twice, and another good thing remains insufficiently exploited The director makes some unfortunate moves in the trial scenes, too Milo O'Shea, as the defense counsel, enacts the flamboyant histrionics that greatly contributed to the defendants' undomg rather more antagon-lzingly than seems necessary, and the martinetlike judge of Geoffrey Keen is a bit too richly dripping with prejudice Though it may be that they were in fact so odious, it would have been dramatically more effective to curb them a little On the other hand, Cyril Cusack makes the district attorney calmly and believ-ably blood-chilling, with only an occasional sneei too many The trouble lies in part in Montaldo's being Italian, and insufficiently at home with English emphases and accents, these actors sound far too British for Boston No matter—once Sacco and Vanzetti are on trial for their lives, the movie begins to come into its own There are some very good touches here, for example, flashbacks to the actual events as related by the witnesses, but shot out of focus, in the hazy way in which they must have registered Or, again, a sequence showing the whole robbery photographed so that we do not know till the last moment that it is a police re-enactment And what impresses us most from the beginning the conception and characterization of the two accused Riccardo Cucciola is a decent, befuddled, sometimes unnerved yet often sublimely dignified Sacco, meek and stubborn by turns, he is quite often heartrendingly reasonable as well Occasionally resorting to pathetic lies, he nevertheless damages himself more by his outbursts of heroic anti-Establish-ment truth Gian Maria Volonte is even more compelling as the forceful, defiant, self-destructive Vanzetti, but self-destructive with a nobility that is deleterious only among human beings—among animals or angels, it would be magnificently right I hear that Volonte did not do his own English dubbing, if so, this is the best-matched voice and most adroit hp-syncing I have seen in some time As the case becomes weirder and thornier, as its ramifications spread farther and higher, the film becomes more and more absorbing The script manages to foreshorten the endless convolutions of the case with clarity and good sense Claude Mann is not particularly notable as a crusading journalist, but William Prince gives a fine, subdued performance as the eminent Boston blueblood attorney who takes over the defense Silvano Ippohti's color cinematog-laphy wisely remains unglamorous throughout and unobtrusively slips into monochrome at the appropriate moments Although the inclusion of newsieel footage is not entirely felicitous, by this time the film has such momentum—such genuine, controlled pathos—that an occasional false step is barely noticeable Indeed, some details are nothing short of unforgettable Vanzetti, awaiting his own execution, watches the lights in his cell dim as upstairs the deadly current is being run through the body of his friend If only that awful Baez ballad did not return at the end, with its ludicrous refrain, "Here's to you, Nick and Bait, 'Live forever here in my heart / The last and final moment is yours,/ That ago-nee is your tn-humph'" I wonder whether some of the bad reviews were not for the song rather than for the film ouis Malle's he Souffle au coeui (heart murmur, not Murmur of the Heart, as it has been officially and incorrectly translated) is a film about growing up in the '50s, and thus invites comparison with Peter Bogdanovich's The Last Picture Show Yet how different these kids coming of age in provincial Dijon are from those others in godforsaken Texas, or, if you like, how different Europe still was from middle America a couple of decades ago For the young boys in what, granted, is a French city rather than a Texan burg (but would Dallas or Houston have been very different9) are concerned with literature, history, art, politics, philosophy, theology—even if only to rebel against much of what they read or are being taught When an adult asks his nephew what youth thinks about French involvement in Indo-Chma, the boy replies, "Youth, deai uncle, does not give a shit " The answer is not as apolitical as it might seem This quasi-autobiographical film concerns Laurent, the 15-yeai-old, bright, precocious, somewhat academic son of a hard-working, mattei-of-fact Dijon gynecologist and his much youngei Italian wife, Clara, who, though she loves him, must have lomance in her life and so hops into the cars of various ephemeral lovers Lament has two older brothers, fine anti-mtellectual screw-ups who bully, patronize, envy, and love him They both guide and impede his sexual development, and their pranks are among the most amusing aspects of this gently entertaining film The family also includes uncles and aunts and, especially, Clara's faithful old Italian maid, Augusta, a huge bulwark of black starched skirts and moral rectitude The relationships of all these people are sketched in with economy and warmth, and with sensitivity that sidesteps sentimentality Other relations are handled with equal perception and delicacy the first experiences with girls and prostitutes, incidents verging on homosexuality with Laurent's ironical and droll confessor and teacher, Father Henri, as well as with a cherubic younger fellow boy scout, group and individual masturbation, secret pornographic readings There are minor political activities, too, and school, and mass, and confession, and sicknesses, and collecting or stealing American jazz records But mostly there is the loving—ever more loving—relationship with Clara, the mother for whom the boy has a wide range of feelmgs admiration, jealousy, protectiveness, misgivings, and, above all, amazement The one night of incest between Laurent and Clara is cogently and solicitously led up to, and then as adroitly and sagaciously led away from—back to normality and the resumption ot a family life full of little stings and a large, laughing contentment Malle's scenario is intelligent racy, authentic throughout At the very outset, when Laurent and a chum are returning home after collecting money for the wounded ot Dienbienphu, the friend demands that Laurent return his copy ot Brasillach's book on Corneille—he needs it for ciammmg Laurent says he isn't through with it, why doesn't the friend's father help him with hn homework9 "My father isn't an intellectual," the boy protests, "he manufactuies wash basins" From this moment on, we know that we are in good hands And how splendidly simple yet rich in overtones is an exchange like this between Laurent and Clara "Still, it must be mighty queei being married to a gynecologist ?Mmmm You get used to it" The film has wit and, even more, humor, and a lovely spirit of forgiveness for all human foibles The color cinematography by Ri-cardo Aronovich is only acceptable —the exteriors tend to have a slightly washed-out look, and an unsolicited mauve haze is frequently hanging around—but the set decoration is perfect, and the Bechet-Park-er-Gillespie music works tidily on the sound track, shading nicely into sportscasts of the Tour de France, when Laurent prefers to follow that on the radio When he misses the results of one lap of the race because of a necking session, he can be quite appropriately furious The acting is fine, especially that ot Daniel Gehn as the father, and of Lea Massan, exquisite as the mother Ever since her disappearance in mid-/l vventura, I have been seaich-mg for Miss Massan, finding her occasionally and too briefly in mediocre films about Naples, Rome and Pans How unexpected and delightful to catch her in full histrionic and womanly bloom in Dijon, of all places' I hope that she will stay with us now, that I shall never have to let her go again for very long...

...On Screen LEGALIZED MURDER, LEGITIMIZED NCEST BY JOHN SIMON Sacco and Vanzetti is an imperfect film, but not an inartistic or insignificant one...