edwartell

Normally, I write reviews of movies I see on my website. However, for this movie I cannot do that because I wasn't really watching it for the last half-hour or so. An explanation and warning to all follows.

I saw this movie with some friends; otherwise, I would never have seen it, since the reviews have not been kind. The movie, indeed, is every bit as inane and touchy-feely as you think it is. There is very little to recommend in it; the only thing I can think of is that it isn't downright unpleasant. The birthday boy, one of my friends, brought along a bottle of whiskey, and, after draining enough of it, handed it to the chick on my right. She drank as much as he did, but, being much less corpulent, got drunk right there in the theater. The stupid things she said and her lack of physical coordination were much funnier than the movie itself. I finished off the bottle, and the movie was much more tolerable while buzzed. So, I can't recommend going to see this movie unless you just feel like getting drunk in the movie theater; not normally a practice I condone, but in this case almost a necessity.

This is one of those shorts where Sylvester chases Tweety and Hector the bulldog chases Sylvester. Unlike most of those films, where Sylvester gets beaten up by Hector in the end, this time their chase leads them into traffic, and from there to a recuperative stay in the animal hospital. But even in heavy casts, cat and dog are determined to whack the crap out of each other and cause incredible amounts of pain. Rarely in a WB cartoon has so much pain not been glossed over; there are no fade-outs here, and the pain accumulates for the character rather than just fading away. Because of this, an unusually hilarious and terrific short.

Most religious films are somber affairs, made by religious men. So Francesco, giullare di Dio is an odd religious movie. It lacks any readings from scripture, or even any quotation. It's made by Rossellini, and the title means "Francis, Jester Of God." It's a long long way from here to Diary Of A Country Priest.

We've had St. Francis movies, of course. Most (in)famous is Zeffirelli's Brother Sun, Sister Moon: St. Francis as hippie. But this was the best. It was shot more or less on location, in the Italian countryside. It stars non-professionals (of course; Rossellini was a neo-realist). Fortunately, it stars a bunch of monks as...a bunch of monks following St. Francis.

In a brisk 75 minutes, Rossellini sketches a bunch of events: St. Francis meeting a leper, a cook learning why actions win souls, not words, etc. There's little music, and, oddly, not really much time spent with St. Francis himself. He's a side character; the thing of real interest is the daily lives and lessons of the monks.

At the end, Francis sends the monks off on their own to preach. They spin in circles, fall down, and wherever their head points, that's where they go. Religion is a journey, not an urgent reason to convert others. This supremely generous and uninsistent film is surely one of the best religious films ever made, full of nature and joy.