In this golden age of home viewing, the Criterion Collection still provides some of the best editions of the best movies ever released, usually with a rich selection of extras and often including audio commentaries (a feature they pioneered, and perhaps the greatest gift ever to film students and cinephiles alike). This column features one Criterion release per week, based on where my interests lead me and what’s available from my local public library.
One thing I remember from watching The Crown is how often the phrase “he has a living wife” or “she has a living husband” seemed to come up, always spoken in a tone of moral disapproval implying “how dare you even think of marrying this person?” The context was always that one of the Windsor offspring was being told to forget about marrying the person they wanted because said person was divorced and pre-2002 the Church of England forbade remarriage while the divorced person’s former spouse was alive. Odd that it didn’t seem to occur to anyone that anyone living could be made not living and then the problem was solved.
Pietro Germi was way ahead of them, because that’s the premise of his 1961 black comedy Divorce Italian Style. At that time there was no such thing as a legal divorce in Italy (presumably due to the influence of the Roman Catholic Church), yet then as now the heart is not necessarily interested in what the lawbooks have to say.
Such is the situation of the impoverished Sicilian nobleman Ferdinando Defalù (Marcello Mastroianni), who is married to a perfectly nice wife, Rosalia (Daniela Rocca, a beauty who is made to look homely to suit the plot) but isn’t in love with her anymore. More to the point, he is in lust with his beautiful cousin Angela (Stefania Sandrelli), who is all of 16 years old and spends most of the year attending a convent school. When Angela is home with her family in the summer, Ferdinando spends a lot of time ogling her and obsessing over her, but his cause is hopeless because her family zealously guards her virginity, as required by the customs of the day.
One day Ferdinando has a brain flash: he will arrange for his neglected wife to have an affair, kill her, and receive a light sentence because he was defending his honor. Mission accomplished, he’ll be free to marry the teenage object of his affections and live happily ever after. The phrase “be careful what you wish for” seems like it might apply here, but you’ll have to watch the movie to see how it all plays out.
It’s a good thing Divorce Italian Style is a broad comedy because the male characters display sexism at a level that could be quite unfunny, and that’s even without bringing murder into the discussion. Even the grandpas of the village are lusting after Angela, and they also take liberties with the servant girls, who for their part are blamed for attracting the men’s attention. Rosalia still wants to do it with her husband, so he has no complaints in that department, but he doesn’t think once of what she might want from him. And so on and so on, but fortunately Germi (who also wrote the screenplay) pulls off the satire effectively and the result is a very funny movie in which you’ll be laughing at the men, who hold a ridiculously favored position in their society, for not realizing how good they have it.
The self-mocking performance of Mastroianni has a lot to do with why this film works—from the moment we meet him he wears a hangdog expression communicating just how sorry he feels for himself, despite the fact that he lives in a castle and has servants who do all the work while he is free to contemplate his personal life. Germi’s witty script also helps sell the film’s concept, and the fact that much of it is delivered in voiceover rather than dialogue creates a distancing effect that makes it possible to look upon the characters’ nonsense with an indulgent and knowing eye. Everyone’s acting is a bit over the top, and the townspeople act as if they were embodiments of a hive mind rather than individuals with independent thoughts and judgments. The result is that this film constantly reminds you that you’re watching a movie that has no intention of striving for naturalism—instead it’s a fable that illustrates the foolishness of homo sapiens, in particular those possessed of Y chromosomes.
Divorce Italian Style was partly shot on location in several Sicilian towns by Leonida Barboni and Carlo Di Palma, adding an extra layer of appeal to an enjoyable and well-executed film. In fact, it’s the kind of film that reminds you how much good work is down outside Hollywood—Germi alone wrote 25 films and directed 19, winning the Palme d’Or in 1966 for The Birds, the Bees and the Italians, yet this is the only film of his I’ve seen. Divorce Italian Style was his most successful film in America, winning the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay as well as nominations for Best Director and Best Actor. | Sarah Boslaugh
Spine #: 286
Technical details: 104 min.; B&W; screen ratio 1.85:1; Italian.
Edition reviewed: DVD (2 discs)
Extras: documentary about Germi by Mario Sesti; interviews with Sesti, Lando Buzzanca, and Stefania Sandrelli on the set of Divorce Italian Style; interview with screenwriter Ennio De Concini; test footage of Daniele Rocca and Stefania Sandrelli; booklet with essays by Stuart Klawans, Martin Scorsese, and Andrew Sarris.
Fun Fact: The honor killing law which Ferdinando relied on to get a light sentence for killing his wife was not repealed in Italy until 1981.
Parting Thought: The 1947 Danny Kaye vehicle The Secret Life of Walter Mitty features a series of fantasy sequences similar (although much less violent) to those in Divorce Italian Style: most significantly, both express the desires of the male lead. Was Germi influenced by that film or is this idea such common currency that there’s no point trying to trace it to a single source?
