Gaviões e Passarinhos

"Where goes humanity?" - "I don't know!" Maybe it's a comedy, but I don't think anyone is 100% sure what kind of a film this really is. It's not really comedic, because behind all those absurdities and silliness there lies a seriously political and religious concern, a bittersweet desire and infallible disappointment. Maybe we should take the film as what it is, as one-of-a-kind, a cinematic high jump which gives rise to all sorts of speculation and conjectures without knowing where to start and where it ends.

Not only the viewer is left unsure, the protagonists are, too. They embody the condition of the film's unsureness perfectly, as well as the nature of one of the most unique works of Italian cinema, which is also the most variant and formally abstract film project of Pasolini: A weird story, a picaresque tale which mixes metaphors and cinematic references (from Keaton's statics to Chaplin's poesy of the dusty road to Fellini's clowns to Rossellini's monks); a philosophic apology which depicts the end of ideologies, the crisis of Marxism on the background of the clash of rulers and subjects (hawks and sparrows) and the unfortunate encounter of those who have the blessing of knowledge (the wise raven) and those who outlive themselves without the awareness of being part of this world: Totò and Ninetto, father and son. Both are walking the eternal road of a universe which is merciless, discuss pretentious things and express themselves with the help of their basic instincts: physical needs, but also the hate towards inferiors and subservience to superiors. On their way, they encounter the mystery of life and death (birth of a child, a family that kills themselves with gas, a funeral), as well as the mortal fear of those who starve. Until the raven appears, decides to go along with them and overwhelms them with needless wisdoms.

It's great to see Totò in here, a masterful actor who often was criminally misused in abysmal Italian entertainment movies and shows here the wide range of his talent. The interaction with the young, intuitive Ninetto Davoli is probably the biggest joy in this film.

Pier Paolo Pasolini's 'The Hawks and the Sparrows' (the Italian title is 'Uccellacci e uccellini') is a film that is difficult to decipher. In 1966 the Italian director had not yet produced his most controversial works, but this film already shows him as a radical creator, both in terms of the load of ideas he tries to convey in less than the 90 minutes that the film lasts and by the metaphorical way in which he chooses to do it. We are dealing with a parabola allegory including many interesting and innovative cinematic elements, some of them quite funny, but it is not an entertainment film. The problem with this film as with others of Pasolini is that much of the ideological wars that the Italian director and intellectual waged in his time have since been either won or forgotten by history. The result is that looking at this film today, viewers judge it by its cinematic and entertaining qualities, ie exactly those components that for Pasolini were just tools to transmit ideas from the creator of films to his viewers.

The story takes place on an endless road. The road of life? The path that Charlie Chaplin takes at the end of his films? The two characters could actually be the Vagabond and the kid who accompanies Charlot, as seen many years later. Here they are father and son, and on their way they meet landscapes and people who belong to the immediate reality or to pure fantasy. Neo-realism mixes in the world of Pasolini's film with fantasy. People live their lives on the margins of society, women have nothing to put in the pot to feed their families, tenants are threatened with eviction from their homes because they have not paid their rents, prostitutes work in the cornfield. The two heroes, father and son, eternal vagabonds, meet a talking raven who declaims the ideology of the left and travel back in time seven centuries to convert to Catholicism the birds (the hawks and the sparrows in the title) at the urging of St. Francis. Their universe is cruel, an era is coming to an end (symbolised by the funeral of a communist leader), and hawks eat sparrows despite all the efforts of Catholicism. The world is incoherent and ideologies are dying.

The message of the film also translates into an unconventional demonstrative cinematic treatment, rejecting canons, narrative rules, or aesthetics. The film begins with a generic sung to the music of Ennio Morricone. The following scenes seem to be under the influence of neo-realism, even when a group of young people improvise a dance number that would also find its place in the films of Jacques Demy, Pasolini's French contemporary. What follows, however, belongs rather to surrealism combined with the absurd. The acting performances are extraordinary. The only professional actor is Totò, a famous comedian and clown, in one of the great roles of his career. The young Ninetto Davoli, a discovery of Pasolini, at his second film, was quite anonymous and uncorrupted by acting schools to fit perfectly into the style of the film. The rest of the cast is made up of non-professionals and they are the ones who give authenticity to this mixture of social and religious criticism imbued with a dreamlike nihilism that only Pasolini was capable of. 'The Hawks and the Sparrows' is an atypical film even for Pasolini's creation, unequal, but which offers many moments of cinematic pleasure.

A picaresque approach by a master of the Italian cinema resulted in this personal and different film by Pier Paolo Pasolini. The director, who wrote and produced this picture, was in great form in this story that is more like a fable, deliciously acted by Toto and Ninetto Davoli, one of the best pairings in Pasolini's movies.

The film is, in many aspects, a road movie. From the beginning, we watch as Toto and Ninetto take to the road in their trip to nowhere, it seems, but a trip which permits Pasolini examine some of the things that obsessed him, mainly his dislike for organized religion, as he perceived it in his country, as it clashed with reality. He takes the life of Saint Francis and the story about his relationship with the birds as the main topic for the movie.

It's hard to add anything else to what already has been said by the valuable contributions to IMDb. This film is one of the most inspired by the director. In it, he doesn't pound on the viewer's head those things that were dear to him. In fact, the film has a whimsical touch as we follow the two travelers, Toto and Ninetto, through rural Italy as a raven keeps telling them stories.

Toto is perfect as the older man who is living in his own world and doesn't see the changes around him. Ninetto Davoli gives a great performance as the happy go lucky son. Their surname, is Innocenti, or Innocent, which in a way, fits their characters rather well.

The black and white cinematography by Mario Bernardo and Tonino Delli Colli works wonders for the film. Ennio Morricone's musical score also enhances all that one sees on the screen. This is a light Passolini, but one that delves deep into the subjects that were so dear to the director's heart.

How I love a film that taps into the absurd while staying true to the symbolism, and in the process mocking it and then creating symbolism again. It's a very tricky thing- Bunuel was one of the masters at it- and Pier Paolo Pasolini, in one of his rare outright comedies, does just that. The Hawks and the Sparrows is simple enough to explain, in its central conceit: an older man (Toto) and a younger man (Ninetto) are walking along on some not-totally-clear journey (Toto might have some debts to fix or something, and he has apparently eighteen children), and they meet a talking crow, who talks and talks a lot. Then they get into some strange happenings, all comical. But it's the kind of comedy then that Pasolini uses like some deranged poetic waxing on about silent comedy and theories on God and faith and love and politics and, uh, stomach cramps I guess. It's completely off the wall, at times like a roadrunner cartoon (or, for that matter, the best Buster Keaton), and it's told with a dedication to the comic situation. It's masterful.

At times it doesn't seem that way though. It could, in less concerted hands, be more scatter-shot, with some scenes working better than others, and with the one sure bet being the crow (voiced by a great Francesco Leonetti). But from the start, Paoslini is completely confident with the material, from the opening titles that are sung (heh), with the throw-away scene with the kids dancing at the restaurant (with an amazing Ennio Morricone rock song that pops in and out of the film), to the sudden inter-titles ala Monty Python ("the crow is a "left-wing intellectual"), and then onward with the little stories within the framework of the 'road movie'. The biggest chunk Pasolini shows us is the story of two monks- also played by Toto and Davoli- who are instructed by their head monk to talk to the hawks and sparrows and teach them about God. And they do, in bird speak (which is also subtitled in case it's needed), and then go through an allegorical tale of the ins and outs of faith.

It takes some wicked subversion to make these scenes work, but they work hilariously, to the point where I laughed almost every minute of the sequence (as well as with other ones, the exception being the archival clips late in the film of the protest marches). Pasolini once said he was "as unbeliever who has a nostalgia for belief", imbues the story of the monks with a sense of charm to it- you like Toto and Davoli in the parts, not even so much that they're good in the roles, which they are very much so, but because there's some bedrock that the satire can spring from so easily. He, via the exceptional Tonino Delli Colli, films the Hawks and the Sparrows as strong in sumptuous black and white as any of his other early-mid 60s films. But there's a lot more going on within the comedy; it's like he skims a line that he could make it as, like with some of his other work (unfortunately ala Teorema) pretentious and annoyingly trite in its intellectual points. But as he goes to lengths to put a spin on it, it turns into pitch-black comedy, revealing him as an even deeper artist because of it.

Take the birth scene, where the weird theater-type troupe who drive around in a car have to pause in their play on "How the Romans Ruined the Earth", and it suddenly becomes a sly farce unto itself. Something that should be sacred is given the air of playfulness, as though everyone is told "yes, it's alright to be in on the joke", where Toto covers Ninetto's eyes, other actors in the group pray, and then walla, there's a baby, clean as day. Morricone's score, I might add, brings a lot to this air of fun and playfulness, even when (and rightfully so) it goes to the more typical strings and orchestral sounds than the rockabilly, which sounds more like unused bits from Pulp Fiction. And finally, there's the crow itself, which unto itself- had Pasolini not made it mockable- would be funny anyway, as it's a frigging talking crow who for some reason follows the men anywhere they go. It's already allegorical of a sort of guide or voice of reason on their journey, which is fine. But including the ending especially, Pasolini allows for the joke to flip over itself.

With the Hawks and the Sparrows, we get the absurd and the surreal, placed wonderfully in social constructs, and it reveals a filmmaker who can, unlike but like his controversial reputation presents, open up a whole other perspective with a strange twist that mixes classic Italian film style and scathing subject matter. A+

How does one describe a film like this? Imagine a Bunuel film like THE MILKY WAY. A couple of men walking on an empty road. They're on a strange journey only their destination is the beginning of their journey (huh?) and the two men are as funny as the best cinema clowns in screen history. Somewhat Felliniesque, somewhat Chaplinesque, throw in a little De Sica and even a dash of Monty Python and you can begin to have some idea of what this incredible blend of absurd and hilarious satire is like. Unlike Bunuel's films, this film is joyous. It has heart, passion, and an imagination springing somewhere from the soul. The film takes its stabs at religion, academics, and government but it does it in a playful way that leaves one feeling rejuevenated instead of that sour feeling that one feels after watching most social satires. It's hard to believe that this is a Pasolini film. It's about as far on the spectrum from SALO that one can get, yet it's sad that in comparison this film is almost completely unknown.

This is definitley worth seeking out on video. I'm hoping that I can find a soundtrack recording for this. It is one of the best Ennio Morricone scores I've heard, which is saying a great deal!