<< Back 7/31/02 Picture Show By Gary Carden Seven Beauties By Lina Wertmuller 116 minutes, English subtitles (Color) - $26.95 The Screenplays of Lina Wertmuller translated by Steven Wagner New York: Warner Books, Inc. 1977 $7.95 - 394 pages The first time I saw “Seven Beauties” back in 1976, a number of factors conspired to make it a remarkable experience. Most notably, I didn’t know who Lina Wertmuller was, and I had never read a review of her films. As a consequence, I had no idea what the film was about nor did I know that it was currently being trashed in The New York Times and a number of popular magazines by such venerable authorities as Bruno Bettelheim, Pauline Kael and a host of feminist spokespersons. I entered the theater with no preconceived ideas about Nazism, male chauvinism or the inappropriateness of slapstick comedy in works of dire tragedy and/or social commentary. No, I came like an empty bucket to Lina’s well and waited to be filled to the brim. Some two hours later, I tottered into the sunlight like the survivor of a train wreck — disoriented, benumbed and bewildered. Within a very brief span of time, I had experienced amazement, horror, outrage, humor, tears and some kind of affirmation of the human soul. I couldn’t seem to get a fix on any conclusions. How did I feel about “Seven Beauties?” It had offended and delighted me. I went into a nearby café and had a cup of coffee, thought about Giancarlo Giannini and Shirley Stoler and concluded that there was nothing in my experience that resembled either of the two. Finally, I went back to the theater and saw “Seven Beauties” again. When I emerged this time, I had confirmed what I had suspected the first time. This was the best movie I had ever seen. Not yours, perhaps, or Leonard Maltin’s, but mine. It still is. “Seven Beauties” begins with a collage of WWII news reels — posturing Mussolini, ranting Hitler, bombs exploding, air raids, mass executions, marching armies, and political speeches. In counterpoint to these images the soundtrack plays a strange song, “Yeah, Yeah,” which is a cynical response to the devastation of war. In essence, the song suggests, “Here we go again! We have heard and experienced all of this before.” Then, suddenly, we are in a snow storm watching two deserters from the Italian army who furtively watch a mass execution ... in a beautiful forest somewhere in Germany. Terrified, the two men flee only to be captured by German soldiers and placed in a concentration camp. The two deserters, Pasqualino and Francesco anxiously watch the daily executions and casual cruelties around them while talking about the past and how they came to be here. As Pasqualino talks, the film alternates between his story and the terrors of the concentration camp. “Seven Beauties,” we learn, is the nick-name of Pasqualino Frafuso (Giannini), a petty criminal from Naples — a man with seven, homely, unwed sisters. Vain and pompous, Pasqualino is sensitive about his sisters and spends a great deal of time lecturing them about honor and the need to protect the family’s “good name.” It is a futile struggle, since the sisters are hanging out in dance halls. Poor Pasqualino threatens and cajoles to no effect and finds himself at odds with a crime lord who taunts him. Feeling that his honor has been slighted, Pasqualino sneaks into the crime lord’s room at night and shoots (accidentally) his tormentor. He then attempts to get rid of the body by dismembering it, packing it in three trunks and shipping the trunks to three different cities. Caught and subjected to a sensational trial in which he is branded “The Monster of Naples,” he manages to avoid the death sentence by pretending to be insane. (He does a hilarious imitation of Mussolini which lands him in the asylum.) However, Pasqualino does not prosper in the asylum. After a sexual episode involving a female patient (she looks dangerous but she is restrained with leather straps) he ends up in shock treatment. A well-meaning doctor tells him about the Italian army’s recruitment of “qualifying patients,” and Pasqualino schemes, plots and is suddenly out of the asylum and in the midst of the nightmarish slaughters on the German lines. Now, we have come full circle, and as our anti-hero watches the certain approach of his own death, he confides in his fellow prisoners that he does not want to die and has one last wild, irrational scheme to save himself. He will seduce Hilde, the camp’s commandant — known as “The Great Beast.” Dear reader, believe me when I say that Hilde (Shirley Stoler) is one of the most daunting creations in cinema. A huge, overweight Brunnhilde who cruises the Appleplatz in the sidecar of a motorcycle with a cat-o-nine-tails dispensing floggings and death. But, Pasqualino, who has a reputation as a grand seducer, persists. Again, there is nothing more bizarre and pathetically comical than this stud of Naples, reduced to skin and bone, lacking the strength to stand erect, yet who winks, whistles and hums as the Queen of Death passes in her sidecar. She is irritated and beats him, then makes him stand erect in a barren room for hours as she motors slowly around him with her whip. Nor has cinema produced anything as grotesque as the seduction that follows! The image of Commandant Hilde, sprawled in her chair, stripped to her boxer’s shorts and undershirt (she keeps her boots on) is memorable. She swills beer, belches and sneers at poor Pasqualino, who creeps like an injured insect toward her. Hilde says that he must perform or die — then, tells him how she hates him and all the “little people” who will survive Hitler’s dream. Nor is the worst over. The final, devastating act is one that requires Pasqualino to kill poor Francisco, his best friend. Does “Seven Beauties” have a message? Oh, yes. Survival at all costs. It is evident that Pasqualino will perform any act, commit any crime to stay alive. For others in this bleak Dante’s Inferno, there comes a point when they say, “Enough! I choose to die rather than endure this degradation” — and they do. Who is right, Pasqualino or his friends who say “No more!” I think they both are. Those who have been shaped by ideas and philosophies about humanity die. For Pasqualino, the purpose of life is to eat, drink, fornicate and survive. At the end of the movie, he is back in Naples, and although the jaunty strut is gone and those incredible, expressive eyes are sad, he is alive. He is certainly changed and when he finds Carolina, his old sweetheart (who is pregnant), he merely rolls his eyes and says, “Let’s get married and start making kids. We haven’t got much time. I want lots of them. Twenty-five or 30 ... we have to become strong because we must defend ourselves. Do you hear them out there?” Lina Wertmuller (who studied under Fellini) made four remarkable films: “Swept Away,” “Love and Anarchy,” “The Seduction of Mimi” and “Seven Beauties.” Giancarlo Giannini starred in each one, and all are amazing creative works. Certainly, I cannot think of an instance in which director and actor worked so perfectly together. I have seen “Seven Beauties“ over a dozen times now, and each time, I experience sheer delight as soon as Giannini appears. His marvelous, cocky walk and wild, rolling eyes make him that astonishing and rare entity, a gifted actor. Certainly, I am forever thankful that I saw this film without the benefit of advance critical evaluation. In the years afterwards, when I read the scathing denouncements of “pro-Nazi sentiment” and “unforgivable vulgarity“ as well as “insensitivity to women,” I was perplexed by all of that righteous anger. In fact, I wish I could duplicate that experience a hundred times — experience a film without the guidance or the interpretation of a film pundit. That may be the only way we can have the joy of drawing our own conclusions, or experiencing a genuine sense of awe — to enter the theater not knowing what to expect.