Carambola, filotto… tutti in buca (1975) - Director: Ferdinando Baldi - 2/10.
Let’s face it, Baldi had no aptitude for comedy whatsoever as is evidenced by this series of films of questionable comedic merit. This is basically the same as what is found in the first installment, except that this time, the overall storyline does not even deign to dignify its audience with a concrete tale as such and upon dispensing with any semblance of serious craftsmanship, proceeds to disgorge the single vignette which is then taken and subsequently repeated over and over again, except that it is enacted in different loci and circumstances so as to bamboozle its unsuspecting viewer into thinking they are witnessing some kind of progression in this quasi-formless string of inanities disguised as a narrative.
The biggest issue undoubtedly dwells in that basically none of this is even remotely funny insofar as one feels sorely disoriented; one becomes chagrined at the realization that so many of these contrived situations are intended to provoke wild laughter, yet most of these bootless jokes simply taper off even before they are over and then they go on and on and on, prolonging this folderol by half an hour at least, which highlights the arrant dearth of substance. With the exception of ten to fifteen minutes in the middle which prove mildly amusing after a fashion, the motion picture seems content with plumbing the depths of bromidic ineptitude with little regard for scripting integrity and meaningful plot development. There is no conceivable reason to view this unless you are a glutton for punishment and want to test your endurance, but then again, there are better and more productive ways of doing that.
Djurado (1966) - Director: Giovanni Narzisi - 2/10.
To be perfectly frank, I am shocked at the lenience with which people tend to approach this absolute dreck of a motion picture. Not a single aspect of it proves even remotely passable and the absolute technical scurviness cannot be explained by the miniscule budget seeing that most of these ventures were produced on shoestring budgets with very little latitude in the way the filmmakers could creatively shape their movies. Not only is the underlying premise mind-bogglingly derivative, but also the fashion in which the storyline progresses turns out almost laughable and verges on becoming parodic, except that the intent is most certainly serious here for better or for worse. The directing smacks of a certain amateurish negligence which is particularly evident in its conspicuous visual abjectedness and fugly camerawork evoking in its utter squalor and tastelessness some of the worst dregs of the genre.
Some otiose attempts at comedy, e.g. the one in which the girl owning the cardboard saloon opens fire at the low-rent Giuliano Gemma clone only to offer him a drink a bit later, are so execrable and downright atrocious they prompted me to physically facepalm at one point, I mean what the heck were they thinking. The technical decrepitude does not end there, some of the montage is so out of whack it calls into question the basic competence of people who were tasked with assembling this abysmal failure of a flick. The turkey climaxes in what could be termed a soft deus-ex-machina which certainly bespeaks writing and creative helplessness, but by that stage, the salient want of legitimate ideas becomes demonstrably clear, so at that point, one simply exuberates at the finale, though not because of its inherent qualities, but rather because it signals the termination of the torture. What a despicable piece of trash.
. Thanks, Aldo
