There is no doubt that Roberto Benigni will forever have his name etched in the annals of film history after his Academy Award winning film Life is Beautiful – which took home Best Foreign Language Film, Best Score (for Nicola Piovani), and brought forth a most special moment when Benigni climbed atop the seats of the theatre to accept his Best Actor award. Yet, it is a bit of a shame that some of his pre-1997 works are lesser known outside of his native Italy. Case in point, the comedy Johnny Stecchino, circa 1991. Co-written (along with Vincenzo Cerami), directed and starring Benigni, he plays the titular character as well as a near identical lookalike of the man (who is actually our protagonist). Here’s a quick translation – Stecchino means toothpick. So, to explain, Dante is a charming yet rather simple bus driver (who is also trying to pull a disability scam with the government), when one day, he luckily. . . or perhaps unluckily, almost gets run into by a beautiful woman named Maria (Nicoletta Braschi – Benigni’s real life wife) – who seems to be immediately intrigued by the man. As she would exclaim – “Santa Cleopatra!”
An Italian sex comedy with some class – I know, I know, that sounds like an oxymoron, the great Mario Bava (Black Sunday) co-adapts and directs Four Times That Night (1971), a film that structures itself in a similar way to Akira Kurosawa’s classic Japanese motion picture Rashomon – also, for a more modern example, think of the television series The Affair (starring Joshua Jackson, Dominic West and Ruth Wilson). Looking at one fateful night, four individuals get a chance to tell their side of the story. Dealing with perspective and viewpoint, the narrative revolves around Gianni Prada (Brett Halsey) and Tina Brandt (Daniela Giordano), a wealthy man always on the prowl – this time spotting a pious young woman in Tina.
Alfonso Cuarón’s most personal film to date (even more so than Y Tu Mamá También), 2018's Roma seeps to the screen from the filmmaker’s own memories. . . a love letter to his beloved housekeeper who helped raise him in the neighbourhood of Roma in Mexico City all those years ago. His first Netflix feature, the streaming service gave Cuarón the freedom to create his vision his way. . . with a near limitless shoot time, the man not only directed, but also wrote, produced, co-edited, handled cinematography, and even shot the motion picture. Filmed in striking black and white, it is like seeing the most picturesque of monochrome postcards, but eerily intimate ones.
With a towering warrior frame, Jason Momoa is a rare actor whose size onscreen matches his larger than life build in person (no offense to other stars, but usually, for whatever reason, height is not one of their trademarks). Yet, despite his imposing height and breadth, he is chill and zen when you meet him – a relaxed, calming presence. Momoa has quickly built up his star status, most wholly unaware of his time on Baywatch (44 episodes, no less), often forgotten in his role on Stargate: Atlantis, or his turn in the remake of Conan the Barbarian, most thinking his take on Khal Drogo (on the surface, a savage barbarian, Momoa built a fascinating, multi-faceted character) in Game of Thrones was his first major performance. . . and since, he has made intriguing, surprising, and most importantly, quality choices with his career – splitting time between film and television. Eccentric roles in B movies like Bullet to the Head and The Bad Batch, or selecting the Canadian series Frontier (where he plays a part-Native outlaw involved in the fur trade), fit the man like a glove, personas that meld with the actor, for even his most recent win, that of Arthur Curry, better known as Aquaman (currently, as of January the 8th, 2019, the number one film in the world), could have been considered a risky bet. . . for the underwater superhero has often been the joke of the industry (remember Vincent Chase’s lack of interest in Entourage) – after all, he swims around the ocean talking to fish, yet Momoa (and director James Wan) have made the hero cool again – a slick, at times comedic warrior hero in the vein of King Arthur or Indiana Jones.
With a title that brings to mind the film noirs of yesteryear, or, an egg for that matter, 1992's Hard-Boiled is an action packed extravaganza from writer/director John Woo (his last bombastic Hong Kong feature before heading over to Hollywood). With a score that often surprisingly leans to the jazzy side (composed by Michael Gibbs), providing a noirish vibe to be sure (the at-times harsh lighting does not hurt either), Woo actually originally set out to create some sort of unique cross between Dirty Harry and Bullitt (a self professed lover of Clint Eastwood and Steve McQueen), and, if you amped the action up to eleven in both of these films, you’d have something along the lines of Hard-Boiled.
The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail – no, not a Hardy Boys’ adventure, rather, another unique giallo, directed by Sergio Martino (Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key), a 1971 mystery thriller that may have more would-be stalkers than any other film in the annals of history. From a story by Eduardo Manzanos (icon Ernesto Gastaldi came in to build the screenplay, with Mazanos and Sauro Scavolini also getting credit), the twist-filled narrative pulls from both Alfred Hitchcock and Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Les diaboliques, as well as unbelievable real life stories that lined the newspapers . . . Martino imbuing it all with a tense, mile-a-minute pacing.
Special delivery – a five minute journey into a world devoid of science and logic, writer/director Roman Bubnov pits a mysterious, gift-giving force against a woman in an intriguing little Russian short film – Who’s There (2018). A twenty-first century Hitchcockian blonde (Darya Yanvarina) – ear buds in, phone attached to hip; a beautiful mystery, so alluringly aloof. . . a woman placed in a dire situation, she receives a text from source unknown, asking if she got the said sender’s present.