As Mãos Sobre a Cidade

In the early sixties Vittorio de Sica and Dino Risi were to show the darker side of Italy's economic miracle known as 'Il Boom' but there can be no fiercer denunciation of the corruption and speculation of the time than this early film of Francesco Rosi.

Shot in Naples by Gianni di Venanzo in a semi-documentary style with a cast comprising mainly non-professionals and a suitably dissonant score by Piero Piccioni, it is an immensely powerful and indeed courageous film.

For the role of Nottola, a thoroughly obnoxious and unscrupulous property developer, city councillor and all round wheeler-dealer, Rosi has acquired the services of Rod Steiger. This fine actor has at times a tendency to 'overcook it' but is far more effective in his quieter moments than when emoting and the director here has kept him on a tight rein. He is adequately 'dubbed' by Aldo Giuffré. It is however Salvo Randone's performance as a glib and oily politician who has evidently studied his Machiavelli that lingers longest.

The collapse of the building and the subsequent evictions in the working class area are brilliantly handled as are the angry exchanges in the courtroom and council chamber. The editing by Mario Serandrei is, as always, exemplary and one is hardly surprised that his expertise was used by Pontecorvo on 'Battle of Algiers'.

Although considered by some to be a minor work in the Rosi canon this film deservedly won a Golden Lion at Venice and has achieved the distinction of being one of Italy's '100 films to be saved'. Rosi himself makes it abundantly clear that although the characters and facts in this narration are imaginary, 'the social and environmental reality that produces them is authentic'.

Set in 1963 Naples, Hands Over the City is a serious depiction of the corruption, nepotism and social issues of post war reconstruction.

Italy in the early 1960s was barely a developed nation. Like most European participants of World War Two, Italy was left devastated by six years of conflict ending in 1945.

The movie's plot revolves around an investigation of a building collapse resulting in several fatalities. The story plays out in the backdrop of local elections which may affect vested political interests dole out land development contracts to cronies.

By shedding light on back room political dealings, the film exposes the shortcomings of democracy in developing states. Additionally, the raw power of wealth in (literally) buying votes amongst a poor electorate (think India, etc.) is laid bare during the movie.

In such a corrupt environment geared to enhancing the wealth and influence of existing power brokers it is not surprising ordinary people turned to Socialist and even Communist politics. Indeed, Italy's Communist and Socialist parties regularly won 33% or more of the popular vote until the 1980s. (Both parties were independent of policies emanating from Moscow.)

Though one may criticize the movie's pace, the story unfolds well enough to watch. The characters are realistic with the black and white filming adding to the effect of watching a sordid drama unfolding in seedy, smoky backrooms. The cinematography, especially in the opening scenes of Naples cityscape, is excellent. Hands Over the City is a social statement film more than an entertainment piece.

This Golden Lion-winning political drama, helmed by ambitious journalistic Italian filmmaker Francesco Rosi, makes a performance of a pursuit, a miscarried pursuit, but informative nonetheless for the inside scoop it wagers before us. The investigators are members of the Naples City Council, who are grindingly provoked by the collapse of a building in a congested blue-collar back street. Did the building wreck, with some tragic results, due to hazardous construction at a neighboring site? Most of the council is willing to draw the line of their inquiry at this particular question, having already settled that the answer is no.

Initially, the sole proponent for further examination is convinced that the root cause is one of everyday profiteering, as personified by Rod Steiger's council member and real estate developer named Nottola. His right-wing party commands the government, which governs the city's construction and planning offices, which permit Nottola charge of whatever development he favors. The gluttonous profits come full circle to the right-wing party. With an election coming up, the noble sole proponent is fixed on fracturing this cycle by exposing it, yet in doing so he is exposed to infuriating bureaucracy. In reality, he is played not by a professional actor but a member of the city council and secretary of the chamber of commerce.

Fermariello's good guy appears more emotionally decipherable than Steiger's Nottola, who in spite of being the axial character is cold and unapproachable in most scenes. Nottola disappears for extensive segments of the movie. His son, the engineer at fault for the building disaster, evaporates for the entire film after one small and obscure appearance. The film is quite reminiscent of the much more recent film There Will Be Blood by Paul Thomas Anderson, and with a very similarly remote main character. As for Nottola's feelings for his son, they never surface at any point. At the moment when Nottola faces the urgency to choose between his son or his business concerns, Rosi denies even a suggestion of his internal life. While Nottola remains silent and ponderous, Rosi's camera ranges his nondescript office and juxtaposes him with the window's view of the darkened city, for almost three full minutes, as the disonant musical score awakes in a sother of brass, shapelessly building like a migraine before it's shattered by a menacing jazz wallop.

Pay close attention to the first few scenes of this eager sociological parable. While this succession economically summarizes the era's Neapolitan chain of graft, there are lush leaps in framing and scope like when we see Nottola's hands in close-up against the outlying background, high-reaching overhead purviews first of an architectural facsimile and then of the real city, abrupt cuts that jar you in and out of runaway and overlapping dialogues, and curt pauses during which you read the faces of an "industriopolitical" (my word) mass. This sequence of jarrings delves into how Rosi gets away with his conversational portrayal, half council-chamber public speaking and the other half clandestine political scheming. While the dialogue by itself would be a courtroom-like chore, Rosi's stylistic visual appeal keeps one enthralled.

So the circle of the film closes, and the camera cranks back through the city council chamber, and then you see the same high-flying aerial shots as at the beginning. And yet, although Rosi appears to be suggesting a sort of sighing and giving up, a point of view not so irrational when one sees how far beyond Naples this perpetuated cycle of underhanded government puppeteering remains several decades later, the stylized realism of this, what I call an everyday disaster movie, leaves you feeling resilient and energized.

Good inquiry movie, talking about the "roaring" '60 when every builder wanted to get richer and richer, basing his success on poor people's needs. It's a constant in Rosi's movies this political touch, but it's not about complaining about one party or the other, but it's more subtly focused on a certain italian laissez-faire in political matters and in social affairs that in some way is still alive today.

Its way of leaving a great space to dialogues and to silent scenes around the city contributes to create a journalistic approach and the witty speeches give the movie an interesting touch.

Well assembled, quite involving, an interesting piece about how power tends to contribute to its power only.

Also an essential view on the 60s and italian postwar society.

Rod Steiger as a local city politician in an Italian film by Francesco Rosi makes a virtuoso performance as usual in his younger days and is convincing enough in fluent Italian in one of Francesco Rosi's usual almost documentary panoramic exposures of social life especially in relation with power. Everything appears absolutely natural here, as if you were yourself present at all those turbulernt political meetings with votations and intrigues around the mayor, and the crisis is brought on by a collapsing building of many storeys and flats owned by local leaders of the city government, who choose to fight it out against allegations of corruption, and the council scenes with dramatic quarrels Italian style pounding on in heated passion are the best of the film. It happens in Naples, but the situation could be anywhere in any great city in the world planning to exploit and make money on new suburb constructions of horrible inhuman skyscrapers all looking the same - with new prospects of coming tumbling down.