mdefranc

Serpico, Dark Blue, Unlawful Entry: Some of the many titles we've seen related to police corruption and unorthodox officers' behavior however (and I must admit he's done a stellar job at doing this), Figgis delves deeper into the issue - the corrupt officer's mind, reminding us of Treat Williams in Prince of The City, with a total different outcome of course.

We feel enveloped in fear by Gere's portrayal of Officer Dennis Peck, a shrewd and merciless individual who'll let nothing stand in his way when it comes to masterminding and conducting a series of illicit activities while wearing the LAPD uniform. As such, he'll try to rid himself of Sgt. Raymond Avila, a new entry into the Internal Affairs Division who immediately senses Peck's viciousness and begins investigating him.

Richard Gere, as many of us know, has had an artistic education (pianist and composer) and I do believe such characteristics, besides his obvious talent as an actor, have contributed to his ability to mold his personality no matter the script; I dare to say "to successfully improvise", as many artists have done and do, allowing him to show us what lives behind the movie title.

I believe this will stay in many viewers' minds for quite some time after seeing it.

What we see here is a rather strong, yet very human, representation of how love truly operates in many people's lives: It sinks its claws into one's essence, making him/her or both leery about what such love could bring and how it could evolve itself. I'm talking about fear, fear of abandonment, being cognizant of the fact that, unfortunately, many situations do not last forever.

The above comment was by me laid out mimicking Enrico's cynicism, not only because of his terminal disease, but due to his awareness of what explained above. Their love explodes, rather than blossoming, a true love I shall say, the love two persons are ready to promise to each other no matter what the odds in life may be. Unluckily for many, such drive (which was not sexual on either side in my opinion) walks its path along with an unwanted travel mate, fear, which deals its lethal blows to a lot of relationships due to past wounds and human vulnerability.

Valeria, notwithstanding her "so-called" new life, shows her devotion to Enrico throughout the entire movie, accepting his behavior, knowing what that really means, knowing that he was acting out of pain, sorrow and FEAR. After all. at one point in the movie, as he angrily throws his briefcase up in the air after disclosing his doom to Valeria, Enrico does say "All of this is happening and I should not be scared?".

Through Salerno's camera, Tony Musante portrays, via his character, the filth and mud he says Venice is made of, a city that sank in the water a very long time before; he admits, by way of his actions and words, to have become part of that squalid scene.

Being human though also implies hope, current or lost that it may be, which we notice only once when he says "There's still a lot of poetry in life" before taking Valeria to purchase a brocade tailor made dress. I won't comment on his citation of Proust… Unlike (always in my opinion)Morricone, Stelvio Cipriani creates more of a one-to-one musical situation in the movies accompanied by its scores (e.g., L'ultima neve di primavera, Dov'è Anna et al), where the sounds, always rather somber, act as a narrator while the characters perform.

Musante and Bolkan were a perfect match, as their figures portray "Man and Woman", with every related quirk and problem, underpinned, however, by a love that will never end. Valeria realizes he really always loved her once it becomes obvious to her that he really needed to see her before dying, also when he prompts her to go before missing her last train to Ferrara. Sadly for her, the train she really missed had left Venice 7 years before from a track that only brought it back to her for a few hours that day only, to see it depart again, this time, toward a point of no return.

Valeria will carry on painfully, as she truly always loved Enrico.

Duncombe, cold and distant father, besides UK Consul General in Florence, carelessly applies his stark communicative methods with his first son Andrew after his wife's death, which Andrew had sensed well before his father's disclosure of the sad news.

Duncombe's several duties, which constantly keep him away from the family, force Andrew to look after Miles, his little brother. Andrew valiantly carries on, humoring his spoiled sibling, putting on the apparent front of a strong man, getting himself into a lot of trouble due to Miles' continuous mischiefs.

Unbeknownst to his father, Andrew silently suffers his loss; blame is all Duncombe lays on young Andrew, probably due to his incapacity to deal with such pain himself.

It will be at the end, as often seen in life, that the diplomat will experience his second loss, probably the ultimate one, the one he negligently couldn't prevent. His coldness will eventually hit him during the last moments of Andrew's early, shattered adulthood.

Comencini gives this young man the power to annihilate the lavish and colorful home and surrounding environment, reminding us that once it's too late there's no return. There's perfect synchronicity between the colors/tones/score and the setting of the picture, a rather clear representation of life in Florence during the late 60's where roles, both social and professional were well defined.

Using a term I have commented with for a different movie, we are seeing a positive-negative image of Comencini's Pinocchio, where the father is constantly running after his son, both for loneliness and to keep him out of trouble. I think some of us will agree with the fact that Miles' role somewhat reminds us of the fictional character.

The comment's title has, for the record, its ambivalence.