La muchacha de la valija

This somewhat mediocre and meandering melodramatic film by Zurlini features Claudia Cardinale at her most exquisitely beautiful in every shot and what shots! Beautiful long takes that allow you to concentrate on whatever you want. Tino Santoni is a hell of cinematographer, whoever he was, a total master. If the script had been a little bit better the film might've ended up transcending into a superpoetic realm like Zurlini's awesome technicolor 1962 film "Family Diary"; as it is, it's very much a failure in an overall sense but still pretty good as probably the ultimate ode to one of the most beautiful actresses in cinematic history.

This may not be a very intuitive observation, and it's even partially stolen from Pauline Kael (at least the Walken part is), but I think Claudia Cardinale has the same thing Christopher Walken has, where you're never sure if there isn't some part of the character you didn't see coming lurking somewhere, ready to jump out and surprise you, just the feminine version of it.

I assume it's (in both cases) not really a method thing, but that they're both actors who are able to bust out all kinds of moves, moods and vibes with ease, confidence and competence alike. Not necessarily coming from training, but raw talent.

There are moments in this film when you feel your feet lift of the ground and you enter a pure state of movie nirvana. Only the Italians could bring together style, elegance, poise, wit, sensitivity and irony like this, and play it out in the real world with real characters. The amour fou seems original: the sensitive ingenue is nobility (Jacques Perrin), while the girl (Claudia Cardinale) - his older brother's cast-off - is an impoverished drifter. It's not so much the obvious contrast in their backgrounds that provides the tension so much as the directions their yearnings take, that flash across each others' paths like ungainly swordsmanship. The fresh faces of the leads are a delight. It's really the quiet dignity of Perrin that carries the film while Cardinale is the sudden whirlwind that blows into his life. Technique is employed to brilliant effect: the waist-level camera, Zurlini's signature artistic shadows on the walls, and, most tellingly, the way distant characters gradually draw close to our position, a trick established with the first shot of the film. There's no finer kind of cinema.

One of Cardinale's defining work in her early career, GIRL WITH A SUITCASE is director Zurlini's second feature, an eye-pleasing Black-and-White melodrama centres on the dead-end obsession, which a young rich boy Lorenzo (Perrin) projects on Aida (Cardinale), a penniless nightclub showgirl, who has been dumped by his elder brother Marcello (Pani).

In the movie, Lorenzo is a 16-year-older, having barely arrived puberty, Aida is his first crush, which symbolises the most innocent and pure affection a boy must experience once-in-a-lifetime, propelled by unquenchable impulse, he is willing to do anything for her, and will surely swallow the bitter taste since their relationship can bear no fruition, the age barrier, the class disparity, all appear too formidable for Lorenzo to overcome, and Lorenzo is so good-natured and is too obedient to rebel against the unfair and prejudiced society. When we are young, we might meet the right person in the wrong time, maybe this is what Zurlini wants us to ruminate on.

But more relevant to contemporary audience, the film tends to be preferably reckoned as a strong showcase for Cardinale, debatably the very first one for her to stretch her limit as an actress in spite of her drop-dead sex appeal. Also later it reveals that Aida has been entering motherhood in a fairly early age, which mirrors Cardinale's own turbulent personal life of being a mother at the age of 19. Her Aida is a sultry damsel-in-distress, but the reality offers her no prince-charming, only leery chancers want to physically overtake her, in a critical point, she has no alternative other than agreeing to prostitute herself, we should feel empathetic to her, but that feeling is not well- sustained, since Aida is clearly aware of Lorenzo's blind fixation, and she has no qualms to cash in on it, and being brutally honest about their doomed future. The script dangles sluggishly in the cul-de-sac, to an extent of being patience-testingly sentimental, the two-handers between Cardinale and Perrin often oscillate between generic theatrics and amateurish spontaneity sans scintillating chemistry, which inadequately sets the tenor in a lukewarm limbo.

On the plus side, the film occasionally coruscates with its dashing panning camera movements, indicates that DP Santoni is a master-hand behind it; also the soundtrack is a winsome collage of classic pieces frequently played with harpsichord, builds up a solemn mood for the harsh reality where money becomes the only opt-out for something intrinsically superior to all the material concerns.

... the one where Lorenzo watches Aida dancing with that older man. She was supposed to go to the movies with him but she chose to have dinner with a group of other guests at the hotel, and after dinner they start partying and dancing. At one point there is a close-up of Lorenzo that lasts for at least one minute. He looks at them dancing, looks away, takes a sip from his drink, fidgets, with all these different expressions on his face: jealousy, frustration, anger, discomfort, despair. No dialogue. Wonderfully acted and directed. That scene is worth more than all car chase sequences since the beginning of Cinema put together.