THE SECRET OF SANTA VITTORIA: Blu-ray (MGM/UA 1969) Twilight Time
The Secret of Santa Vittoria is that there
are over a million bottles of wine hidden somewhere in the catacombs beneath
this tiny, bucolic, Tuscan hamlet. Stanley Kramer’s nearly forgotten 1969
masterpiece proved an unfortunate box office disappointment for the director;
also something of a most unhappy working experience between costars, Anthony
Quinn and Anna Magnani, who could not stand one another. In his biography,
Kramer would recount how Magnani introduced herself as “a perfect lady”, impeccable dressed and speaking exquisite English
as she took Kramer on a tour of Cinecittà ; the film studio founded by Benito
Mussolini in 1937 that would serve part of the production shoot. “I thought, ‘wow’ – what a lady!”
Kramer added, “Then she gave me a
warning… ‘Don’t eat in the commissary – the food is shit!’ Right then I
realized there was another side to her.”
Indeed,
Magnani had developed something of a reputation for being ‘difficult’. In Anthony Quinn’s case, she seems merely to have
taken an immediate dislike to his gregariousness; believing he was deliberately
trying to upstage her and steal every scene in the movie. In retrospect, there
may be something to this; Quinn’s vigorous turn as the befuddled ‘blow with the prevailing political wind’
mayor elect, Italo Bombolini, shaping up to be a rather transparent throwback
to his Oscar-winning performance in Zorba
the Greek (1964). In one particular scene, Magnani’s Rosa Bombolini is so
enraged by her husband’s embarrassing display of drunkenness atop a water tower
she patiently waits for him to awaken from his stupor before terrorizing him in
the kitchen, flinging a series of pots, pans, and a rather phallic rolling pin
at his head.
Reportedly,
Magnani wasn’t kidding around during this scene; striking her co-star with
everything she had and even fracturing her ankle while attempting to kick him
in the backside. Ever the pro, Magnani bandaged up her broken foot and returned
to the set to continue the shoot, her venom for Quinn unabated. Interestingly,
the tempestuousness between these two tigers translates into self-deprecating
charm in the movie; Rosa’s constant chiding of her ‘clown’ husband met with infrequent outbursts by Quinn’s sheepish
and shrinking patriarch, who rises to the occasion by sparing his town the
indignation of surrendering its one indisputable export – the wine – to the
Nazi high command.
The Secret of Santa Vittoria is based on
Robert Crichton’s beguiling best seller; the Ben Maddow/William Rose screenplay
treading very lightly on artistic license and adhering – mostly – to Crichton’s
prose for inspiration. Kramer had envisioned the movie as a ‘celebration of principle and resistance’;
a subtle tale of ‘one town’s indomitable
spirit’ – bound, but unbreakable by the influences of the waning German
stronghold after a political vacuum is created by Mussolini’s ousting from
power. While interiors were shot at Cinecittà ,
for authenticity the production moved to the quaint – and, as yet, untapped,
cliff side village of Anticoli Corrado after it was discovered the real Santa
Vittoria had long since been transformed by post-war architectural development.
Kramer would
employ a fair portion of the town’s populace, working various jobs both in
front of and behind the camera, the residents pooling their earnings to
beautify and restore some renaissance frescos, the Romanesque National Monument
and the inside of the Church of San Pietro. The movies’ centerpiece is
undeniably the town’s collective endeavor to move, hide and camouflage 1,317,000
bottles of wine, thereby denying Nazi Capt. Sepp von Prum (Hardy Kruger, giving
a sublime performance) his trophy to take back to Berlin. Kramer’s staging of
this mass exodus of alcohol, from its warehouse to the underground catacombs,
utilized 1000 extras, lined from Anticoli Corrado’s tight byways and alleys, down
its steep embankment, past endless bowers of ripening grapes. It’s a
magnificently staged sequence; Kramer (and Ernest Gold’s ebullient underscore)
devolving from pie-eyed optimism and frenetic energy committed to such an
ambitious undertaking, inevitably brought down by disquieting physical
exhaustion. Many of the extras were indigenous to the region; cinematographer,
Giuseppe
Rotunno augmenting the flavor of old Italy caught in their sunburnt, gnarled,
toothless and careworn faces. The movie’s main titles also give us a lay of the
land; Santa Vittoria (or rather, Anticoli Corrado) and its’ inhabitants, posed and
photographed through some cheesecloth; like relics recast in a forgotten,
yellowing postcard.
From this
auspicious – almost historical beginning, Kramer delves into some daftly
inspired screwball comedy; Santa Vittoria’s enterprising youth, Fabio (Giancarlo
Giannini) racing his bicycle through the town square at dawn, ringing the
church bell to alert the peasantry of Mussolini’s toppling from power. No one
is particularly impressed or even interested; the town’s devil’s advocate, Babbaluche
(Renato Rascel) explaining, in crass terms that the people can understand, how
the local Fascist government has lost its bite and control over their lives;
pointing a deliciously accusatory finger at its local representative, Francucci
(Francesco Mulé) who is immediately pursued by the angry mob, easily swayed;
each taking their turn in a cacophony of swift kicks, meant more to bruise the
ego than harm Francucci’s ‘fat ass’.
Nearby, local wine merchant, Italo Bombolini fears a similar treatment in store
for him. After all, he’s been a Fascist supporter. Actually, Bombolini isn’t
interested in politics at all – nor even wine; except, of course, to drink it.
He’s merely keeping the peace by whatever means is necessary – a rank pacifist
with a wife, Rosa whose proverbial fuse is as short as her patience.
Bombolini gets
drunk and scales the local water tower where previously he had painted his
message in support of Mussolini. Now, he endeavors to whitewash it out. Alas,
too wasted to commit even this simple act, Bombolini must be rescued by Fabio,
who ties a rope around Bombolini to bring him down safely; Rosa wringing her
hands in shame from an open window as she declares in front of their daughter,
Angela (Patrizia Valturri) the family name has been disgraced for all time.
Ironically, all is not lost; the Fascist government surrendering on its own
terms; Fabio seizing the opportunity to put forth Bombolini as Santa Vittoria’s
new mayor. The crowd, lost in the
spectacle of this man’s childish folly, suddenly begins to chant their instant
approval. Alas, Bombolini hasn’t the faintest notion how to be a great politico
- or even a competent one, for that matter. Bombolini is racked with
insecurities, shouted out of his own house by Rosa whom Babbaluche suggests
needs to have Italo’s fist buried in her face to shut her up.
In the
meantime, Angela makes it known to both parents that her…uh… ‘juices’ are flowing for Fabio. Bombolini
is outraged, Angela’s comical declaration of her own womanhood, vigorously
massaging her breasts in the town square, causing Bombolini to accuse Rosa of
not explaining the facts of life to their daughter. Rosa attempts to dissuade
Angela from her romantic folly by illustrating a particular part of the male
anatomy, using two apples and a stalk of celery, to which Angela confidently
explains she already knows about. To quash the slightest chance his new
appointment as Santa Vittoria’s mayor will be short-lived, Bombolini appoints
the ousted fascists as figureheads in his new administration; garnering their
reluctant support. Fabio elects to leave Santa Vittoria to pursue his studies
in Rome. However, once in the big city, Fabio discovers the Nazis are planning
an all-out annexation of Italy. Santa Vittoria will fall in a matter of days;
its vast storehouse of wine exported to Berlin.
To prevent the
inevitable, Fabio returns to Santa Vittoria, employing ex-fascist army
deserter, Tufa (Sergio Franchi) to help him concoct a plan of action. Tufa has
been hurt in his escape, Bombolini urging the sultry Contessa Caterina
Malatesta (Virna Lisi), considered something of a social outcast, but also a
very competent nurse, to tend his wounds. Tufa suggests the wine be moved to
the town’s abandoned underground caves. But Bombolini’s first orchestration of
this mass exodus proves a chaotic nightmare. Tufa reorganizes the people into
four human chains running parallel the full distance from the winery warehouse
to the caves far below the city; Bombolini working the villagers around the
clock with only fifteen minute respites until the task is completed. Babbaluche
suggests a little over 300,000 bottles be left in the stockpile for the Germans
to discover, the logic being they will not look for the missing million if they
are led to believe there is no more wine in Santa Vittoria. It’s a clever ruse,
readily agreed upon by Bombolini and Tufa. Hence, when Capt. Sepp von Prum
arrives with his military escort he is slightly amused to discover Bombolini so
bumbling and…well…accommodating. Rosa isn’t nearly as pleasant, ordering von
Prum out of her establishment and incurring his considerable displeasure.
Bombolini
manages to pull the wool over von Prum’s eyes; the Nazi captain accepting the
tally of a little over 300,000 bottles and bartering back and forth as to how
much of this stockpile will be left behind in Santa Vittoria. Sometime later, Angela sneaks off to Fabio’s bedroom
in the dead of night, her inveigling him into a consummation thwarted by Rosa,
who nearly wakes up the whole town, informing Bombolini of their clandestine
rendezvous. In reply, Bombolini proposes a shotgun wedding that comes off
without a hitch. In the interim, the Contessa and Tufa have also become
passionate lovers, their hot and heavy romance complicated twofold; first, by
Tufa forced to remain concealed to spare his own execution as a deserter, and
second, by von Prum who has since developed his own voluptuous interests,
desiring Caterina for his own.
Von Prum’s orchestrated
seduction over a candle-lit dinner is thwarted by the arrival of S.S. officer,
Cpl.
Heinsick (Chris Anders) who informs von Prum there are more than a million
unaccounted bottles listed in the winery’s record-keeping ledger. Pummeling
Bombolini to make him confess their whereabouts, the Nazis instead get nowhere
fast and are forced to conduct an exhaustive search of the city, only to come
up empty-handed. Von Prum uses repeated threats, but to no avail. He also
decides a show of force is necessary; electing to assassinate two people from
the village to prove his point, forcing Bombolini to choose the victims.
Thinking quickly, Bombolini advocates fate choose the intended at random,
thereby absolving him of the burden of their deaths – merely, the first two
people who enter the town square will be killed. Von Prum agrees, Babbaluche
and Tufa scurrying to release a pair of hardcore fascists; Copa (Quinto
Parmeggiani) and Dr. Bara (Pino Ferrara) who they’ve been keeping under lock
and key thus far, under the pretext the
Germans have come to liberate them.
Von Prum discovers
Tufa in Caterina’s bed, taking Tufa hostage and exclaiming for the whole town
to hear, that unless someone reveals the ‘secret’ of Santa Vittoria, Tufa will
be assassinated at daybreak by a firing squad. That evening, von Prum takes out
his sexual frustrations on Caterina. She allows the rape to occur in trade for
Tufa’s life. Von Prum releases Tufa, receiving orders from the Nazi high
command to evacuate Santa Vittoria immediately – wine or no wine. Having turned
up nothing, von Prum prepares to leave. He does, however, make one last stab
not to depart the town empty-handed, threatening to shoot Bombolini in the head.
Remembering what Rosa said earlier, about his brains being in his ass rather
than his head’ Bombolini decides to defy von Prum for what, presumably, will be
his last time. To add insult to injury, he offers von Prum a single bottle of
wine – the only one he’ll be taking from the village now that his orders have
been rescinded. Disgusted with his own failure, von Prum departs, the town
breaking into impromptu celebration; a buoyant good riddance to their captors.
At 140
minutes, and, in the era of the road show, The
Secret of Santa Vittoria ought to have clicked – if not with audiences,
then most definitely as a charming, if fanciful, little fable set near the end
of WWII; yielding some beguiling vignettes, superb acting and exquisitely lush
travelogue visuals. Alas, it all remains fairly transparent and only marginally
captivating on a whole. Stanley Kramer has difficulties keeping the narrative
taut and on target – or rather, moving in a smooth narrative arc from points
‘A’ to ‘B’ with all letters of the alphabet momentarily intervening between. Kramer
is cribbing from an exceptional source – also, a fairly competent script. But
he’s somehow unable to keep the various secondary threads in play without
distracting us from the central story. The
Secret of Santa Vittoria is really a tale about two male rams locking horns;
Hardy
Kruger’s urbane and emotionally complex Nazi stooge pitted against Anthony
Quinn’s even more complicated/slovenly and emasculated boob. Kruger’s von Prum is the more satisfying of
the two performances, his calm, cool and collected uber-aristocrat imploding as
an eye-twitching, joyously perturbed fop, overcome by his own kneejerk vexations.
The romantic maneuverings
between Fabio and Angela, Rosa and Bombolini, Tufa and Caterina, are meant to augment
our appreciation for these private lives. Instead, this trifecta of imperfect
relationships proves a hindrance; Kramer unable to make up his mind whether
these intimate affairs are the crux or the cream of his jest. Characters drift
in, then out of this revolving door, also the director’s focus; the Maddow/Rose
screenplay problematically juggling the WWII ‘secret’ wine scenario with the
aforementioned couples in love. After Fabio and Angela are married, as example,
the movie all but loses interest in them.
Kramer’s salvation
is, of course, his pacing: as with his brilliant use of the cutaway from the
moment Anna reveals to Bombolini their daughter is having an adulterous affair
with Fabio. Bombolini declaring he will punish the boy so he will always remember
it; Kramer juxtaposing this stern declaration with a shot of Fabio and Angela
emerging from the chapel as happily joined newlyweds, presumably at the point
of a gun. At moments such as this, Stanley Kramer gives us a pluperfect blend of
earnest drama and nimble comedy with his own peerless light touch that can sell
almost anything as both entertainment and high art.
Alas, there
aren’t enough moments such as this in the movie. The middle act of The Secret of Santa Vittoria suffers
from too much exposition and not enough intrigue; also, an absence of the
aforementioned comedy. It’s odd, because Kramer suddenly seems only to be
interested in getting to the juicy parts near the end, forgetting the
connective tissue of any great movie must function as more than the obligatory
link from one great scene to the next. Mercifully, Kramer is blessed by the
cursed backstage animosity between Anthony Quinn and Anna Magnani; adept chameleons
who pivot between electric bits of conflict and some sincerely amusing glimpses
into their all but forgotten romantic past. Quinn and Magnani walk this
tightrope with grace, humor and a modicum of wicked double-entendre. They’re a
joyously satisfying combination on the screen, even if their backstage
association was less than conciliatory.
In the final
analysis, The Secret of Santa Vittoria
is a minor work by Stanley Kramer, its scope somewhat diminished by the
director’s inability to give us everything he has; the success of the movie
resting squarely on Quinn and Magnani’s shoulders. In retrospect, she seems
better equipped for the heavy lifting; Quinn (who made a career playing lusty
Mediterranean males with plenty of old world charm and foibles) merely content
to phone in another performance, cut from the same tapestry in his acting repertoire.
The movie is populated by other fine performances too; Hardy Kruger’s
impassioned Nazi; Renato Rascel’s village sage, on occasion masquerading as its
idiot; Giancarlo Giannini’s astute youth (all but discarded in the movie’s
second act – a shame) and Sergio Franchi’s stern patriot (more a lover than a fighter).
These are expertly crafted and meant to keep The Secret of Santa Vittoria afloat even as Stanley Kramer
struggles to maintain basic narrative cohesion during his middle act. They do
click, even when the movie doesn’t, forming a distracting daisy-chain around
its dithering plot.
MGM/Fox’s
1080p transfer via Twilight Time boasts a sublime palette: rich hues,
sun-kissed oranges, earthy browns, lush greens and eye-popping sky blues. There
are a few, fleeting moments where the DeLuxe color temperature wildly shifts
from warm to cool, and one or two instances of some minor wobble, most likely
caused by gate weave. I’ll pause a moment to point to another truly curious
anomaly; white sliver-like scratches, randomly running on a diagonal plain from
left to right. At first, I thought it was the remnants of a rain shower,
occurring as they did during an outdoor sequence where the villagers await the
arrival of the Nazis around the 72 min. mark, and, immediately following a
scene where actual rain had been falling.
Good continuity
on Kramer’s part, I thought. Alas, when
this same anomaly reappeared in the middle of an indoor scene at approximately 121 min., I suddenly realized it had
nothing to do with continuity or the natural elements. Is it distracting? Hmmm.
On smaller monitors, arguably no. Actually, I didn’t mind it on my 42inch
display. Blown up to 85 inches on my other monitor, it became a minor, but
forgivable nuisance. Only in projection does it prove fairly annoying. Again,
this oddity only occurs twice in the film and for only a very brief few
minutes.
The pluses
here are overall image stability; also pitch-perfect contrast, and some truly
absorbing depth and clarity with a modicum of film grain accurately reproduced.
The original mono is presented in 1.0 DTS and remains remarkably robust.
Dialogue is clearly represented and Ernest Gold’s score sounds fantastic. As
expected, Twilight Time gives us Gold’s music on an isolated score; also, a
theatrical trailer, with TT’s resident scribe/author and historian, Julie
Kirgo’s offering some keen observations on the liner notes. Bottom line:
recommended.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
4
EXTRAS
1
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