Rosolino Paternò, soldato...

The film carries a peculiar aura that stems from its production period as much as from its stylistic intentions. Emerging in 1970, it belongs to a wave of World War II films made in Italy when the genre was shifting away from solemn, propagandistic accounts toward hybrid works where war could be seen through lenses of irony, regional identity, or even comedic detachment. What immediately strikes the viewer is the tonal instability: the movie balances between the gravitas of a story set in occupied territory and a comedic rhythm that never fully commits to parody, producing an atmosphere that is neither purely tragic nor comfortably lighthearted. This tension is not accidental but rather symptomatic of the Italian cinema of the late 1960s and early 1970s, which was searching for new ways to talk about the war without repeating the solemn neorealist tropes of the immediate postwar period.

Cinematically, the film employs a visual style that is somewhat conventional compared to the bold experiments of contemporary Italian auteurs, yet it retains a rugged authenticity through its location shooting and unpolished aesthetic. The use of natural light and outdoor environments creates an immediacy that echoes earlier neorealist techniques, but here those choices are mixed with a more playful framing, often highlighting the absurdity of situations. The editing rhythm is uneven, at times lingering on comic gestures, at others cutting rapidly to maintain a sense of action, which contributes to the film's oscillation between genres. The soundtrack, instead of underscoring the horror of conflict, frequently reinforces its ironic undertone, hinting at a refusal to sanctify the war experience.

From an acting perspective, the ensemble is deliberately heterogeneous, and this is one of the most revealing aspects of the film. Performances are pitched at different registers: some actors embrace a comedic exaggeration that borders on caricature, while others remain grounded in naturalistic portrayals of desperation and fear. This contrast mirrors the film's thematic duality, though it also risks disorienting the spectator. At its strongest, the acting allows the contradictions of wartime survival-cowardice alongside courage, humor within tragedy-to emerge with striking clarity. At its weakest, it creates tonal dissonance that prevents immersion.

In terms of context, the film resonates with the broader Italian cinematic tradition of re-examining World War II through the prism of ordinary or reluctant soldiers, rather than heroic or strategic figures. This reflects a social climate where audiences were no longer looking for celebratory accounts of military glory but rather for depictions of flawed individuals caught in circumstances beyond their control. Unlike the solemn tone of "La Grande Guerra" (The Great War, La grande guerra, 1959), which though set in World War I established a template for tragicomic portrayals of reluctant soldiers, this movie pushes the comic aspects further, even at the risk of undercutting dramatic tension. A closer tonal kinship can be found with "Everybody Go Home" (Tutti a casa, 1960), where comedy becomes a vehicle for exposing the confusion and disillusionment of ordinary Italians after the armistice. In both films, laughter is not escapism but a means of navigating humiliation, cowardice, and the absurdities of survival in occupied territory. Another useful comparison is "The Best of Enemies" (I due nemici, 1961), which also filters the war experience through irony and mismatched personalities, suggesting that human folly and misunderstanding are as decisive as bullets in determining the course of events.

If the film's stylistic contradictions can be read as artistic indecision, they also reflect the unsettled cultural memory of the war in Italy at the time of its production. By 1970, the country was in the midst of intense political polarization: the economic boom of the 1950s and early 1960s had given way to the unrest of the anni di piombo, the Years of Lead. Public debates around the legacy of fascism and the resistance were deeply contentious, as Italy was still struggling to build a coherent national narrative of the war. Earlier heroic depictions of the partisan struggle were increasingly viewed as simplistic, yet open revisionism that might rehabilitate fascist sympathies was socially and politically toxic. Cinema therefore sought middle ground, often turning to irony and comedy to approach subjects that could no longer be comfortably addressed in solemn tones. This film is a product of precisely that moment: by presenting soldiers who are neither heroes nor villains but confused, self-interested, and sometimes ridiculous, it acknowledges the ambiguity of memory and the difficulty of establishing a clear moral framework for Italy's wartime experience.

Such an approach could only emerge once the initial urgency of postwar narratives had faded. In the immediate aftermath of the conflict, Italian cinema had stressed either the suffering of civilians or the heroism of partisans, as seen in neorealist classics. By 1970, however, those accounts felt inadequate to a younger generation who had grown up amidst economic transformation but also faced the resurgence of political violence and the unresolved legacy of authoritarianism. The film's ironic stance, therefore, is not merely stylistic but political in its refusal to present a consoling myth. It suggests that memory of the war is fractured, comic in its absurdities but also tragic in its consequences, a memory still alive in the Italian collective consciousness twenty-five years after the surrender.