"Rome Adventure" is primarily a gorgeous color travelogue of Rome and other spots in Italy to which a silly soap opera story has been attached. Indeed, the beauty starts with the credits, which are among the nicest I've ever seen. Director Daves manages to show us all the major sights of Rome and a great many others throughout Italy. Everything is scrupulously clean. It's a bit unreal, but the color is first-rate, and the movie is well worth seeing for its scenery alone. There is also a lush score by Max Steiner.
In front of all this, we have a nonsensical story. The dialogue is sappy, contains many howlers, and is very sexist, encouraging a woman to know her place. Brazzi gives a little speech near the end, telling Prudence that a woman's place is to tame the wildness in a man, and that women were wrong to seek freedom.
The casting is all wrong. Pleshette (who somehow always suggests Joan Collins and Polly Bergen to me) is too sexy, mature, and sophisticated to be a believable partner for Donahue as his character is depicted here, yet she's too young for the Brazzi character, though more believable with him. Daves does photograph her very nicely in a number of close-ups.
Angie Dickinson is not for a moment plausible as a lover of Donahue. She's a sexy dame, and her rightful place was in films like "Point Blank" and "Dressed to Kill," among rougher, tougher types.
Troy Donahue--there he is, the 60s preppy image: white socks, loafers, tan chinos, sweaters, and a slightly pigeon-toed walk. He's not as handsome as I remembered him to be; he has a slack jaw. But Daves, again, gives him a number of nice close-ups. Of course, he can't act; he delivers his lines flatly in a monotone learned, I presume, in the Tony Perkins School of Dramatic Arts.
Hampton Fancher plays Albert Stillwell, a grind graduate student. He's a tall, clean-cut, All-American basketball college jock type. He's certainly as handsome as Donahue, and it was just circumstances that made Fancher a supporting player and Donahue the momentary star. Fancher is the only one doing any acting in this film; it required some skill to put on the face of the bumbling, dull grind.
Constance Ford, as always, comes across as too butch, leaving me the impression that her character is a lesbian, even if the character wasn't intended to be.
I found the film a pleasant trip back to March 1962, which is when the film opened in Manhattan. On April 19, 1961, Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" had opened in the U.S. Which version of Rome do you want to see?
In front of all this, we have a nonsensical story. The dialogue is sappy, contains many howlers, and is very sexist, encouraging a woman to know her place. Brazzi gives a little speech near the end, telling Prudence that a woman's place is to tame the wildness in a man, and that women were wrong to seek freedom.
The casting is all wrong. Pleshette (who somehow always suggests Joan Collins and Polly Bergen to me) is too sexy, mature, and sophisticated to be a believable partner for Donahue as his character is depicted here, yet she's too young for the Brazzi character, though more believable with him. Daves does photograph her very nicely in a number of close-ups.
Angie Dickinson is not for a moment plausible as a lover of Donahue. She's a sexy dame, and her rightful place was in films like "Point Blank" and "Dressed to Kill," among rougher, tougher types.
Troy Donahue--there he is, the 60s preppy image: white socks, loafers, tan chinos, sweaters, and a slightly pigeon-toed walk. He's not as handsome as I remembered him to be; he has a slack jaw. But Daves, again, gives him a number of nice close-ups. Of course, he can't act; he delivers his lines flatly in a monotone learned, I presume, in the Tony Perkins School of Dramatic Arts.
Hampton Fancher plays Albert Stillwell, a grind graduate student. He's a tall, clean-cut, All-American basketball college jock type. He's certainly as handsome as Donahue, and it was just circumstances that made Fancher a supporting player and Donahue the momentary star. Fancher is the only one doing any acting in this film; it required some skill to put on the face of the bumbling, dull grind.
Constance Ford, as always, comes across as too butch, leaving me the impression that her character is a lesbian, even if the character wasn't intended to be.
I found the film a pleasant trip back to March 1962, which is when the film opened in Manhattan. On April 19, 1961, Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" had opened in the U.S. Which version of Rome do you want to see?