Coventry When people ask me why I'm so fanatic about Italian cinema, I always refer to the beautiful Gothic horrors of Mario Bava, the outrageous splatter flicks of Lucio Fulci, the virulent Poliziotesschi thrillers of Umberto Lenzi or the stylish Gialli of Dario Argento. Quite often, however, this still isn't sufficient to persuade them of the fact that Italy is the best film-producing country in history. Perhaps if I refer more directly to the political drama/thrillers of Eli Petri, and particularly "Investigation of a Citizen above Suspicion", they will finally understand… "Investigation of a Citizen above Suspicion" won the Academy Award for best foreign language film in 1971, but according to the data here on this website the film received another nomination in 1972 in the category "best original screenplay". I don't know how it's possible for the same film to get nominated in two different years, but I can state that winning a prize for the screenplay is even more justified and deserved than winning for the overall best film. The story and screenplay are definitely the most brilliant aspects of this movie. The basic story idea is perhaps even the most purely genius one that I have ever encountered; and I think I've seen more than 5.000 films… The plot is about a police detective, formerly homicide department but now promoted to political supervision squad, who kills his mistress in cold blood and deliberately leaves all sorts of clues (fingerprints, footprints, clothing fibers…) behind in the apartment that unmistakably lead to him as the culprit. Why? Because he's convinced that he will get away with this murder and never get arrested regardless of how obviously all the evidence points towards him. And why is that? Because, apart from being the most arrogant and obnoxious person in the world, 'Il Dottore' is also a very prominent, powerful and influential member of the community. … And the corrupt Italian political system simply doesn't allow for respectable citizens like him to be accused of filthy crimes such as murder. Perhaps it's just me, but I still get blown away myself every time I mention this plot concept to anyone! It's such a clever, courageous and 200% unconventional subject, and the incredibly gifted Elio Petri processed it into a harsh but unforgettable and intelligent thriller/satire. The film ends with a quote of Franz Kafka that sums up the whole thing quite neatly, but most viewers will already have made the comparison with Kafka earlier during the film as well. "Investigation of a Citizen above Suspicion" certainly has a couple of defaults, but other and more essential aspects are impeccably brilliant. Notably the screenplay, as mentioned already, but surely also the unique performance of Gian Maria Volontè as "Il Dottore". Volontè depicts what is arguably the most loathsome and disturbing protagonist in cinematic history, and that includes serial killers, mass murderers and 10ft tall alien monsters! His arrogance and menace is unequaled and for that alone Volontè also should have received an Oscar. Florinda Bolkan as the victim, primarily appearing in flashback sequences, is terrific as well. She's sensual, playfully provocative and – in her own self- destructive fashion – even more powerful than "Il Dottore". Last but not least, there's another truly masterful score by Ennio Morricone. If the music initially seems goofy or misfit to the tone of the film, just bear with it and I guarantee that you'll be hooked on it forever after.

lasttimeisaw This 1970s Italian political drama opens with a compelling murder live show, a dapper man, Volonté (the head of homicide squad) artfully kills his erotic mistress (Bolken) with a sharp blade, and what's befuddling the viewers is after that, Volonté intentionally leaves many traces which could be implicated to him at the scene of the crime, all the more a face-to-face encounter with a witness when he leaves the building. Naturally, one has to divine his motivation of his deviant contrivances, but the film doesn't opt to give a straightforward answer to the illogicality, instead it unwinds itself into a sociological tirade aiming at the blazon compliance of the ruling power echelon, Volonté has been promoted to a more authoritarian post, politics-oriented, and the cover-up process degrades the whole investigation into a farce, lushly recorded by the agile camera. Arguably, this is Elio Petri's most famous film, an Oscar's BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM crowner, and won him 2 awards in CANNES that year, Petri may not occupy an international cachet so high as his Italian peers, but the film can potently justify his talent, it is an authentic gas, wonderfully designed camera-work with a great architectonic predilection, astute sense of unpicking the tacit phone-interception dirty business, a twitchy sensibility towards the rotten authorities, and upbraids an undeniable self-awareness of being politically-biased.Volonté is tailor-made for the leading role, a typical male chauvinist, over-cocksure by appearance while underneath he is a man haunted by his impotence and jealousy (Bolken has mentioned a few times he is only a child which effectively irritates him), although ambiguous about the raison d'être of his act, Volonté is confident, menacing and impressive out of his common Spaghetti image. Bolken is billed as the co-lead, but mostly appears in flashback and the film has curtailed her character to a sexy trophy, a power-worshipper and a dispensable pawn whose stupidity overshadows her own demise, nevertheless she is a stunner in all her shots. The standout of the all-male supporting cast is Salvo Randone as an innocent plumber, who caves in poignantly in front of power, a bona-fide scene stealer. Last but not the least is Ennio Morricone's score, the repeated motif has a synthesized rhythm, catchy and indelible, throughout the film, it renders the film a touch of ridicule and never leave any chance for the audiences to be bored by the doctrinal tone the film unintentionally betrays.

Robert J. Maxwell There is an epilogue, appropriately enough from Kafka, because this is the story of a bureaucrat who is highly placed in the police hierarchy and can't seem to convince anyone that he's committed the murder of a whore he was having a relationship with. And in the end the family nonchalantly sweeps out the dead bug.Gian Maria Volonte is the recently promoted head of the homicide squad. At first I thought his performance was stereotypical. He struts around with a smirk, shouts orders, demands that the espresso coffee machine be removed, pursues and uses enhanced interrogation on demonstrators, communists, socialists, homosexuals, and kids with long hair. (This is 1970.) The hooker he's boffing turns out to be a police buff and loves to be "interrogated" harshly by Volonte. He makes her kneel, slaps her about, and talks her into revealing her most shameful secrets.But then, whimsically, she throws him over for someone else, claiming that he's not manly enough for her, that he's a baby who probably still wets the bed -- so he cuts her throat. He deliberately leaves clues to his identity all over the crime scene.So far, so routine. He's so ridden with guilt over his actions that he wants to be caught. In addition he's a stern representative of oppressive power hectoring the young. We've seen this before.But at about the half way mark things begin to get a little screwy. His colleagues believe that since he is a man of such prestige and power, all the clues must be coincidental and misleading, even the most obvious. When his prints are found on a liqueur glass, a subordinate "remembers" Volante taking a drink to calm his nerves. For what it's worth, this is called "normalization" in sociology, a process in which incidents that don't quite fit the expected narrative are reinterpreted in such a way that they do.As the story progresses Volonte's efforts to inculpate himself become more frenzied. He dismisses others who might be obvious suspects. He reveals himself as the murderer to a frightened plumber. Nothing works.By the end, he's confessed openly to his superiors and then gone home to await arrest. A dozen big wigs arrive and tear up the evidence, claiming that he must be neurotic because he's worked too hard. That scene seems to have taken place only in Volonte's imagination because eventually the same big wigs really DO arrive -- or seem to -- and he joins them in the lobby, presses a button, and an elevator we never knew was there begins to lift them all silently to an upper story. It's a surreal departure from the relatively realistic plot that we've been following.I found it a little annoying at times. I understand Volonte's role calls for bombast but, Cripes, what a lot of close ups of shouting faces. Everybody shouts at everybody else. Everybody walks quickly. It's exhausting to watch and listen to, except that Ennio Morricone's musical score is both subtle and apt. The first two thirds would have made a good B feature in Hollywood back in the 40s. That last third -- well, make of it what you will.

pipeoxide The final scene in Elio Petri's 1970 Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion concludes with a quote from Kafka's The Trial: "Whatever he may seem to us, he is yet a servant of the Law; that is, he belongs to the Law and as such is set beyond human judgment." What Petri has left out from this excerpt is also that "to doubt his integrity is to doubt the Law itself". The "he" in question here is the man of the Law – the police inspector – played brilliantly, hair slicked back et al, by Gian Maria Volontè. Without any scruples, we see the Inspector coldly cut his mistress's throat with a razor between the sheets in a kinky role-playing romp, sans scruples, only to prove to himself if he is, as he believes, a citizen above suspicion and beyond the Law which he so firmly adheres to.This complex film is a cinematic gem thanks to its multifarious tropes – at times absurd black comedy, at times vitriolic political satire, at times psychological study into sexual fetishism and power. Of course, all of these themes intermingle so effortlessly that you can't help but be taken aback by the richness of Petri's byzantine vision. The left-leaning director here depicts the autocratic terror that overtook Italy in the late 60s, an overture to the tense, decade-long period known as the "years of lead" in Italian politics – a time of fascist repression and a struggle between the equally-as-extreme left and right of center parties.Beyond its political overtones (which are universal yet now paradoxically outdated, as we see rebellious students waving their little red Maoist books around to anger the "fascist pigs" in the police force), Investigation plays its strongest and most universal hand in its view of authority, and specifically, those that wield an ungodly amount of it. The Inspector, in a snug, black suit, commands and degrades his subordinates, yet in the way a responsible teacher would reprimand a naughty student. That is, he believes his own righteousness and position, and here, once he commits the murder of Augusta Terzi (the stunning Florinda Bolkan), he leaves the Law to spin its wheels of Justice, having full confidence in the organ of power that commands him. As the Inspector sits in the office of his boss, the Commissioner (a sleazy Gianni Santuccio), he trembles like a child, waiting for approval and acceptance. After the latter admits to having an affair with the murdered victim, the unperturbed Commissioner asks him amidst a smoke-filled smirk, holding a cigar in his fat fingers, "So, was she, you know? Any good?" Here we can make the link between power and sexual impotence, as the simple reason the Inspector kills his lover is because she has brought to light his personal inadequacies as a man. An individual who holds such dominance over others, who commands such authority, is an addictive aphrodisiac for Bolkan's underwear-hating heroine, but after a while, she sees her Inspector is nothing more than a capricious child obsessed and deceived with a position of power that holds no integrity and no truth. For her, his sexual appeal has vanished, the organ of dominance has grown limp, as the incongruity between the Inspector's projected image and his actual self begins to grow. She hates his little black socks, his dull black suit, and his overall bureaucratic appearance. In a few great satirical moments, we see the impressionable Inspector strolling the streets in a trendy new khaki suit, a purple silk ascot, fashionable sunglasses – a caricature of Italian culture to the fullest.So what prompts Volontè's Inspector to make his final decision? Is he a stern follower of the Law who wants to test it and prove himself superior to his inept colleagues; a sadistic neofascist bureaucrat who lives for control and subjugation of others; an infantile with a bruised ego thanks to an untamable feminine force? Are we, as viewers, not to question his actions, but simply to accept them as necessary because he's "a man of the Law", superior to us, despite his faults, as Kafka leads us to believe…or is that just Petri's tongue-in-cheek humor getting the best of us? That's the fun of this great film, and the kookiness of Ennio Morricone's twangy score adds to the comical effect of a dark and witty étude into power, sex, and politics.