Matteo Scuro is a retired Sicilian bureaucrat (responsible mainly for the writing of birth certificates) and a father of five children, all of whom live on the mainland and hold responsible... See full summary »
Vaguely inspired to the real story of boss of the Camorra's bosses Raffaele Cutolo, this is the story of the criminal career of "Il professore" (the professor). He is in prison, and by ... See full summary »
Onoff is a famous writer who hasn't published any new books for quite some time and has become a recluse. When he is picked up by the police one stormy night, without any identification, ... See full summary »
The film begins in the 1920's, in the Sicilian town of Bagheria (a.k.a. Baaria) where Giuseppe "Peppino" Torrenuova works as a shepherd to financially help his poor family. Over the next 50 years Giuseppe's life, as well as the life of the village, is observed. Giuseppe grows up, joins the Communist Party, marries a local girl (Mannina), has children and forges a political career for himself. Written by
Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
I used to be a fanatic of Italian cinema. I learned to see and appreciate film thanks to Roberto Rossellini, Vittorio De Sica, Pier Paolo Pasolini, Pietro Germi, Mario Monicelli, right up to Bernardo Bertolucci, that's why I felt so upset and depress by this latest Tornatore film, the most expensive Italian production ever. The result is a mildly successful Martini Bianco commercial. Everything looks and feels phony. The "auteur" is trying to sell us something and I fear many will buy because the rewards, if you can call them that, are immediate. Beautiful colorful images, relentless Morriconi, famous faces playing tiny cameos etc. A commercial operation if I ever saw one. The confusing part is that Venice prides itself for being a "Mostra d'Arte" so, I'm prepared to bet "Baaria" is going to get some of the top awards. The forces here don't seem to be on the side of art but on the artful skill of self congratulations but, I do hope I'm wrong. As I sat through the two and a half hours I was hoping, longing actually, for a hint of Francesco Rosi or even Blassetti or Soldati. No, not even by mistake. This is a pastry difficult and dangerous to digest. No heart, no warmth and no truth.
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