 |
Did you happen to record Monty Python’s Flying Circus when it was shown on PBS back in the 1970s? Do you still have the tapes? Is there a If so, please write to me. Thank you! |
THE WORKS OF TINTO BRASSThe Key(a.k.a. La chiave, 1983)
The irony of Caligula is that, while it besmirched Brass’s reputation, it eventually opened doors. After 18 years of renewing an option for film rights from Junichirô Tanizaki and then from his widow, Brass finally found a producer for his dream project. In his wonderful book, The Parade’s Gone By..., Kevin Brownlow states: “The first place in which a film is seen is in the scenario writer’s imagination. And that is where it looks its best. The imagination short-circuits practical issues and reveals the film in all its glory, untarnished by effort and undiminished by compromise. It will never look so good again” (opening of chapter 22). I suspect that The Key is an exception to this rule. I suspect it looks almost exactly the way Brass imagined it.
Tanizaki’s novel Kagi is
completely unfilmable. It consists entirely of the
diary entries of a husband and wife, revealing their
thoughts. We can only infer their motives and the
events of their lives. The short novel is billiantly
subtle, and its character development is completely
believable. Probably the only way to turn the book into a
script is to draw up maybe half a page of notes on the
basic ideas in the book, and put everything aside. Then,
a year or so later, go back only to the half-page of
notes, and write a new story based on those ideas.
Now, the better a work is, the more difficult it is to describe. I’ve been thinking for years how to summarize this film, and I’m still in the dark. But I guess I can say that it is a parable about the virtue of jealousy — and about a loving marriage that never reaches full satisfaction until immediately before death. It’s lovely, lyrical, and often very funny. Frank Finlay and Stefania Sandrelli obviously enjoyed their rôles as hoteliers who don’t truly discover each other until after about twenty years of marriage, when, in his effort to break down his wife’s conventional modesty, Nino instigates Teresa’s sexual interest in their daughter’s fiancé. The Key is the most emotionally complex film I’ve ever run across — and the most intricately scripted, designed, and directed. (After all, Brass had 18 years to contemplate these ideas and continually rewrite the script.) The result is a film that goes beyond being profoundly heart-rending. Almost as amazing as the film itself was the audience reaction. Because about ten minutes of the film feature Stefania Sandrelli in the nude, the movie was a sensational hit. For that same reason film intellectuals ceased to champion Brass. Go figure. Watch it several times over. Watch for Brass’s amusing cameo as the father confessor. The film improves with each viewing, and it ages well.
By the way, the language choices in this movie can be a bit confusing. When Tinto Brass saw Frank Finlay portray Antonio Salieri on stage in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus, he instantly decided that he had found the perfect actor for the part, and so he rewrote the part of Nino to make him English. Perhaps that’s why the bulk of the film was shot in English. Or perhaps the idea to shoot in English was a concession to the producers who wanted a more commercial product. In any case, even in the English-language scenes, Barbara Cupisti and Franco Branciaroli spoke Italian, probably because their English wasn’t sufficiently fluent. They were dubbed into English, and in the case of poor Franco, not well dubbed. A few scenes with Frank Finlay and Stefania Sandrelli, though, seem to have utilized direct sound. But it’s hard to tell, for the most convincing sound design (Zaira’s pub, toward the end) was entirely the work of the dubbing and folio studios! For the Italian release all the actors were dubbed into Italian. Even though you can often see their lips speak English, the Italian sounds that come out of them are for the most part quite beautiful. Stefania Sandrelli voiced her own part in both languages, and though Frank Finlay could have done the same, he didn’t. The reason is surely that Italian audiences will not tolerate a foreign accent in a movie. Why, I don’t know, but they don’t, and that’s all there is to it. So instead of Frank Finlay’s voice, we hear Paolo Bonacelli’s voice, which is excellent, but I still prefer Frank’s speaking voice.
NOTE ADDED 25 FEBRUARY 2009:
I just discovered this wonderful interview with Frank Finlay:
http://frankfinlay.net/Films/Key.html.
He loved the movie as much as I thought he did!
By the way, since nobody has ever pointed this out before, I might as well,
though it has no significance to anyone other than the screenwriter.
Tinto is a nickname. His real name is Giovanni.
The name he gave to Frank Finlay’s character is John,
which is equivalent to Giovanni.
People named Giovanni are often called by intimates Nino,
which is a diminutive of Giovannino, which is a diminutive of Giovanni;
∴ Nino = Tinto.
It’s interesting to compare this to Kon Ichikawa’s earlier film version, known in the US as Odd Obsession. Ichikawa’s film has none of the subtlety of the book and it also has surprisingly poor character development. Brass’s version is infinitely superior, and, while not true to the letter of the novel (how could it have been?), it is certainly true to its essence. Ichikawa made the characters weak, almost smaller than life; he turned them into people we would have no interest in ever meeting. Brass made the characters strong and made the couple appealing.
TINTO BRASS EXPLAINS: “The story looks at adult relationships between a couple. Normally, in cinematic or TV terms, they fight and drama presents an ugly face but in The Key we look at the relationship of two people who enjoy themselves.... From the start, I always wanted Frank Finlay for the part. He was appearing as Salieri on stage in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus in London. He became very excited and after I’d told him about it I gave him the script to read.... The day after he rang me and said, ‘Stop looking for other actors. I want to play the part.’... I am interested in a certain aspect of the human condition because of “Culture” — with capital letters — has failed in its mission. After 4,000 years of civilisation the world is still full of misery, war, violence. Civilisation has not learned to live in a cultured way. It has always avoided looking at certain aspects of human nature, not cultivated dignity as a solid basic passion.... It is my job through the actors to display human emotion. Sex is secondary in that context.... The Key is a film on sexuality, but not sexy. It is full of fear, joy, excitement. My job is to deal with telling stories with lots of emotion.... I felt so deeply about it and translating the story from Japan into an Italian situation. All through it was sexuality, the fear of guilt. In talking to the author [Tanizaki], in translating it to Italy to free it of its guilt complex, he said it was like Eve in the Garden of Eden with the snake and the apple. Then he laughed and said there were no snakes in apple trees!” (Iain F. McAsh, “Take 1: People in Camera — BOLD AS BRASS,” Films on Screen and Video 5, no. 2, February 1988, pp. 22–23.)
HOW NOT TO EXPLAIN EROTICISM TO THE MASSES: Flesh & Blood no. 6 (1995) contained a three-page interview with Tinto Brass that made me wince. Brass’s English, while quite serviceable, is based primarily on book learning. Unfortunately, the quite-serviceable English of his Italian interviewers, Massimiliano Boldrini and Paolo Serafini, is based only on the colloquial (“vulgar”) language of the streets. So I’m sure that none of the participants realized how badly and hopelessly they all miscommunicated. Probably unbeknownst to Brass, Boldrini and Serafini took as their starting point a statement that Brass had given to a British magazine called Fiesta (vol. 15, no. 2, 1980) some years earlier:
Perhaps the Fiesta interview was conducted in Italian and incompetently translated into English. Or perhaps it was conducted in English, with Brass optimistically assuming that his British interviewer had a good grasp of the language. Brass had obviously meant “vulgar” in the best sense of the word. The dictionary definition is “generally used, plebian, belonging to the common people, typical, vernacular.” “Vulgar” was once a beautiful word, lending a dignity to those who were not born into the nobility. (For instance, the Latin translation of the Bible that the Catholics still use is called the Vulgate — and the term “Vulgate” refers to the vulgar Latin language spoken by the general public, as distinct from the artificial classical Latin spoken by the ruling classes.) In the English of the streets, however, “vulgar” is understood to mean something else entirely: “vile, ugly, coarse, crude, rude, reprehensible, disgusting, abhorrent, offensive.” This is obviously how Boldrini and Serafini understood the word. The interview completely disintegrated before it even started. So, if you didn’t know the correct definition, go back and read that Fiesta quote again.
A FAR BETTER WAY TO EXPLAIN EROTICISM TO THE MASSES: In an interview conducted entirely in Italian (and not too badly translated into English) for 99 donne (Milano: MediaWorld 1999, pp. 228, 282), the same idea is expressed much more eloquently and accurately. Interviewers Manlio Gomarasca and Davide Pulici asked Brass: “Is there still sexual repression in Italy nowadays, in your opinion?” Brass responded:
“Serene” is indeed the operative word in describing Brass’s usual approach to sex in his films.
REQUEST: That music! It drives me nuts!
Pay attention. There’s a song called “Ma le gambe,”
and the words and music are credited to Alfred Bracchi and Giovanni D’Anzi and it was first published in 1938.
Here’s what’s wrong: I swear I heard an American version of that song,
with entirely different lyrics, on a vintage recording, which I once owned,
but I can’t remember who did it, nor can I remember the words!
(Yet I do have a vague, vague, vague memory that it was performed by the Coon-Sanders Nighthawks
and that it had something to do with a daddy singing about his newborn baby girl’s blue eyes —
of course, since my memory is so vague, I could be entirely wrong!)
In any case, unless my memory is truly failing me, the American version predated the Italian one!
Now: Help? Can someone tell me what the American tune was, and who recorded it,
and who wrote the lyrics, and where I can get it?
Another mystery: When Teresa, Lisa, and Laszlo are dashing through the rain
to reach the Caffè Florian,
a nice vintage tune is playing on the soundtrack.
That was the same tune that was used to underscore the preview,
which is included on some videos.
What on earth is it? It’s not mentioned anywhere in the credits!
Here’s the preview.
Okay, do you recognize that tune? If you do, please write to me. Thanks! That preview is odd, isn’t it? Nearly every glimpse of nudity in the movie is included in the preview. Lopsided. Gives not the best impression.
Finally, one last mystery: In the scene of a failed sexual encounter, in which the camera is always at a strange angle,
a wonderful comical polka is playing full-blast.
That polka is not listed in the credits, and it is not included in the soundtrack LP, and it is certainly not by Ennio Morricone,
as it reappears in several of Tinto’s later movies (Paprika, L’uomo che guarda, and Monella).
But what on earth is it? Who wrote it? Where can I get a nice complete copy of it?
If you know, please let me know.
Thanks so much!!!!!
And now that I’m asking you three questions, I’ll compensate by answering your question:
Arnold Schönberg, “Rosen aus dem Süden,”
1921, an arrangement of Johann Strauss II,
“Rosen aus dem Süden,” opus 388, 1880.
According to Wikipedia,
for this waltz Strauss borrowed themes from his operetta, Das Spitzentuch der Königin
(The Queen’s Lace Handkerchief),
specifically from Act 1, “Trüffel-Couplet,” and Act 2, “Wo die wilde Rose erblüht”.
The book (i.e., script) was by Heinrich Bohrmann-Riegen and the lyrics were by Richard Genée.
The operetta premièred at the Theater an der Wien on 1 October 1880.
The Schönberg piece was once performed by the Boston Symphony Chamber Players and was issued on Deutsche Grammophon 463667,
which seems to be out of print.
It was also performed by the Opéra National de Lyon and was issued on the
Erato
label, which is also out of print.
And, of course, that leads us to an Internet hoax,
which you can read about
here and
here.
Which just goes to show you.
THE LONELINESS OF A WRITER:
This is the first film that Brass wrote entirely on his own.
Surely, though, he wrote the script in Italian,
and hired someone (maybe Frank Finlay? maybe Ted Rusoff?)
to brush up the dialogue in the English-language scenes.
Brass’s previous films all looked like collaborations —
for the simple reason that that’s precisely what they were.
This film definitely has the solo look about it.
Brass would write solo again for three more movies,
which were all, like The Key, freely adapted from literary works:
Capriccio,
L’uomo che guarda, and
Senso ’45.
All four have a heavy, but not heavy-handed, emphasis on people’s sexual lives.
Beginning with The Key, all of Brass’s films focus on eroticism,
and, unlike most of his previous films, they look as carefully and deliberately scripted and crafted as Hitchcock’s films.
The old free-style-improv look definitively came to an end.
STRONG OPINIONS: This is one of my favorite movies, on par with Buster Keaton’s The General and Tinto’s La vacanza and some other gems along the lines of Flaming Fathers and Feed ’Em and Weep (the Marion Byron version). Why do I regard it so highly? Perhaps I shouldn’t, because it’s not perfect. There are a few clumsy moments and Laszlo is badly dubbed. But I still find it affecting. The highlight of the movie, for me, is certainly toward the end, as Teresa and Nino are in bed together talking about when the Pope arrested Marcantonio Raimondi. For my money, that is the most moving and evocative dialogue I have ever heard in any movie, in any play, in any novel. Not even in real life have I heard dialogue half as good as that. And it was so simple. The little chat about an outside subject reveals that, finally, after 20 years of marriage, the wife and husband have a new understanding of one another, and can relate on a far deeper level than ever before. The superficialities of the past 20 years are all gone, and they can speak now only on a more meaningful level. The mention of timelessness is the height of perfection — and the height of tragic irony. This scene is, I think, the most perfect moment I have ever encountered in any movie. It brings tears to my eyes every time and stirs emotions I don’t know how to describe. More than anything else, that is why I so love this movie. (To my ears the scene doesn’t work as well in the Italian dub. The timing of the two languages is different. A casually delivered line in English needs to be spoken at a mile a minute for a dub. Oh well.) I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen The Key, and I never tire of it. I love showing it to people, largely because I get a kick out of their comments, which are usually similar — namely that, unlike any other films they’ve seen that deal with sex, The Key does not seem as though it was made by snickering adolescents; rather, it deals with the subject in a completely mature and unsensational way.
VARYING OPINIONS:
I checked for other people’s opinions on the Internet,
and the few I found are all derisive.
“Guy Grand” (probably no relation of Terry Southern) of Los Angeles wrote a completely negative review for
IMDb.
There’s another negative (and hopelessly inaccurate) review published at
Elm Video.
And a Brit named Edward Higgins publishes a web site called
T
and A Exhibition: The Films of Tinto Brass,
in which he disparages all the Brass films he’s seen,
and by implication all those he has not seen.
I think I’ve found the common denominators here.
The authors of the negative reviews are all fans of exploitation films.
My friends and I, on the other hand, detest exploitation films;
instead, we’re all big fans of Laurel and Hardy.
I would argue that the exploitation buffs who hate The Key
are unable to see the wood for the trees.
They, of course, could turn that around and accuse me of being unable to see the trees for the wood.
So although those who hate The Key and we who love The Key all physically watch the same movie,
we don’t actually perceive it as the same movie at all.
And there’s another reason for the disconnect,
which is at least as deep:
everything with the name “Tinto Brass” on it is now tainted by association with
Caligula.
Many people who seek out Brass’s movies do so only because they’re looking for a
NOTE: Tinto Brass dubbed the voice of a minor character at the beginning as well as that of the waiter,
and I’m pretty sure he also dubbed the barber for the English version.
QUESTIONS:
Who dubbed
Osiride Pevarello’s voice?
And what about Barbara Cupisti’s and Franco Branciaroli’s voices?
I’ve spent too much time trying to identify the actors.
I can’t even recognize Gianfranco Bullo.
And that looks like Eleonora Rossi Drago as Signora Zaira,
but if so, she’s not credited.
Can someone help me here?
THE SAME OLD TIRESOME STORY:
Golan-Globus licensed the US distribution rights for The Key.
But then, presumably because the MPAA’s tiresome Ratings Board awarded it an X for whatever reason,
GG decided against distributing it.
Is that an example of censorship?
Well, it’s not exactly censorship, because GG could have gone ahead,
but with an X in the mid-1980s almost no cinema anywhere in the US would have run it.
So though the MPAA isn’t a censor board in the traditional sense,
the end result is the same:
if they don’t like a movie, chances are that it won’t get shown.
HOW CAN ANYONE NOT LOVE STEFANIA SANDRELLI?
“I Turned Down The Godfather,” Stefania Sandrelli, Actress, 4 July 2001
POINTLESS MUSING:
After the project to film the Marquis De Sade’s
La philosophie dans la boudoir fell apart,
is it interesting that Brass chose to name the two maids Giulietta and Giustina?
FASCINATING BACKGROUND:
The above story sounds straightforward, but it isn’t. According to Tinto Brass, in the quote below, he trimmed only one scene. But when we watch all the various videos, from all the various sources (including theatrical release prints), we see that there were numerous small cuts in several scenes. Who was responsible for them? Was the authentic version shown anywhere other than trade screenings? The ANICA site gives the length of the release version, rounded to the nearest meter, as 3,068 meters, which is equivalent to 10,065 feet and 10 frames, which at the cinema speed of 24 frames/second would be 111 minutes and 50.42 seconds. That length would include the intermission’s “part titles” (“FINE PRIMO TEMPO” and “SECONDO TEMPO”), which probably took up about 20 seconds of screentime or thereabouts. So the release version was about four minutes short of the original! Read the below quote and see what you think. Very confusing!
Tinto Brass, interviewed on the supplement to the Raro Video DVD:
TECHNICAL NOTES: The film was masked in the camera not at the then-usual Italian format of 1.85:1, but at the taller 1.66:1, which was then standard for most of the rest of Europe. As is Tinto’s wont, he and his camera crew made no concession whatsoever for the projector aperture being about 4% smaller than the camera aperture. The only way for a cinema to run this film properly is to project it through the Academy aperture and then bring in the top and bottom masking just enough to meet the image. Of course, that gives video labs major headaches, because their equipment defaults to a cinema’s defaults, and a film that is technically 1.66:1 gets cropped at .825" × .497", regardless of subtle variations from one movie to another, or from one camera to another, or from one scene to another. A proper transfer of The Key would use all the exposed image, .864" × .520" or something like that. What lab is set up to perform such a feat? I have ten or twelve different editions at home — in Italian and in English. The two British VHS releases of the English version crop the width, they have four censor cuts, and they have misspelled, accidentally mistranslated, and deliberately mistranslated subtitles. The British DVD has no subtitles. The Canadian VHS is a miserable transfer that crops both height and width. The original DVD release in the US by Cult Epics was pretty bad, but the more recent issues are worth getting. The VHS of the Italian dub is the only home-video edition that does not crop the height at all, and hence it’s the only one in which we can see all of what Nino writes in his diary. But the picture is a bit soft and a bit too blue and a bit too dark, with some short nighttime sequences almost disappearing. The current uncensored Italian dub available from Raro Video is quite nice, but the color timers at the telecine lab got a bit carried away.
Giovanni Bertolucci presentaThe Key / La chiaveIl libro “LA CHIAVE” è
pubblicato in Italia da Bompiani
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Dal romanzo omonimo di (from the novel of the same name by) |
Junichirô Tanizaki |
Produced by |
Giovanni Bertolucci for San Francisco Film S.r.l. and Selenia Cinematografica |
Coproducers |
Vittorio Annibaldi [uncredited] and Giulio Sbarigia [uncredited] |
Direttore della fotografia (director of photography) |
Silvano Ippoliti |
Musiche composte e dirette da (music composed and directed by) |
Ennio Morricone |
Edizioni musicali (music publishers) |
Tripletime Music, Roma |
Operatore alla macchina (camera operator) |
Enrico Sasso |
Collaborazione al montaggio (assistant editor) |
Fiorenza Müller |
Amministratore (production accountant) |
Mario Sampaolo |
Segretaria edizione (continuity) |
Carla Cipriani |
Organizzatori della produzione (production managers) |
Mario di Biase, Aldo U. Passalacqua [uncredited in Italian version] |
Costumi da bozzetti e disegni di (costumes created by) |
Jost Jakob |
Realizzoli da (costumes made by) |
Vera Cozzolini, Michela Gisotti |
Scenografia e arredamento (art direction and set décor) |
Paolo Biagetti |
Scritto, diretto e montato da (written, directed, and edited by) |
Tinto Brass |
Colore dello (color by) |
Telecolor s.p.a. |
Prodution associati |
Selenia Cinematografica s.r.l., International Video Service s.r.l. |
English-version postproduction |
Gene Luotto |
Ufficio stampa (publicity) |
Lilletta Bertolucci |
Aiuto regista (assistant director) |
Riccardo Tognazzi |
Capo parrucchiere (hair stylist) |
Iole Cecchini |
Capo truccatore (make up) |
Fabrizio Sforza |
Fotografo di scena (still photographer) |
Gianfranco Salis |
Fonico (sound) |
Gaetano Carito |
Coreografa (choreography) |
Gabriella Borni |
Montatore del suono (sound editor) |
Sandro Peticca |
Ispettori di produzione (unit managers) |
Massimo Ferrero, Vittorio Fornasiero |
Amministratrice /cassiera (business manager/pay master) |
Dorina Mari |
Segretario di produzione (production secretary) |
Mauro Babini [uncredited in the English version] |
Capo sarta (seamstress) |
Angela Silighini |
Capo squadra elettricisti (gaffer) |
Sergio Spila |
Capo squadra macchinisti (key grip) |
Renato Cinti |
Attrezzista (prop master) |
Roberto Magagnini |
Assistenti alla regia (second assistant directors) |
Pietro Santagada, Domenico Saverni, Luca Lachin |
Consulenza a Venezia (Venetian legal counsel) |
Carlo Montanaro [miscredited in the English version] |
Assistente operatore (assistant cameramen) |
Ettore Corso |
Aiuto operatore (focus puller) |
Andrea Sabatello |
Assistenti al montaggio (assistant editors) |
Giovanna Ritter, Emanuela Lucidi, Emanuele Cassin |
Assistenti scenografa (assistant art directors) |
Egidio Spugnini, Nello Giorgetti |
Assistente arredatore (assistant set décor) |
Luigi Urbani |
Assistenti costumista (assistant costumers) |
Alessandra Querzola, Marina Frassine |
Truccatore (assistant make-up) |
Antonio Maltempo |
Parucchiera (wigs) |
Carla Ruffert [uncredited in the English version] |
Microfonista (boom man) |
Marco di Biase |
Teatri di posa (sound stage) |
De Paolis, Roma |
Suono (sound) |
Cinecittà |
Mixage (mixer) |
Fausto Ancillai |
Effetti sonori (sound effects) |
Cineaudio Effects, Alvaro Gramigna, Fernando Caso |
Sartoria (wardrobe) |
Mario Russo |
Gioielli (jewelry) |
Nino Lembo, Roma |
Parucche (wigs) |
Rocchetti - Carboni |
Calzature (shoes) |
Arditi |
Arredamento (set dressings) |
GPR - Dedalo - Rancati |
Foreign Sales |
Filmexport Group, Rome |
Musiche di repertorio (musical excerpts) |
ROSEN AUF DEM SÜDEN by Arnold Schönberg, adapted from Johann Strauss Jr [uncredited] UN’ ORA SOLA TI VORREI di Merchetti - Bertini, ediz. National Music MA LE GAMBE di Bracchi - D’Anzi, Curci - ediz. Melodi MARAMAO PERCHÈ SEI MORTO di Consiglio - Panzeri - Publisher Melodi [uncredited in the Italian version] INNO DEI GIOVANI FASCISTI di Giuseppe Blanc |
PERSONAGGI E INTERPRETI |
|
(Figuring out who all these people are is a lot of fun.
Tinto kept winking at us by casting well-known,
highly respected stage actors to play the smallest of bit parts and | |
 | |
Professor John Brian “Nino” Rolfe |
Frank Finlay (dubbed by Paolo Bonacelli in the Italian version) |
 | |
Teresa Rolfe |
Stefania Sandrelli |
 | |
Laszlo Apony |
|
 | |
Lisa Rolfe |
Barbara Cupisti (dubbed by Geneviève Hersent in the English version) |
 | |
Sailor |
|
 | |
Aurelio |
Armando Marra (in the white suite, on the right) |
 | |
Giulietta |
Maria Grazia Bon |
 | |
Don Busetto |
Gino Cavalieri (the priest on the left) |
 | |
Memo Longobardi |
Piero Bortoluzzi |
 | |
French guest |
Enzo Turrin [uncredited in the English version] |
At long last, I found an image of Enzo Turrin from another movie (below),
which helps me identify him as the French hotel guest who, glanced at momentarily from a distance, say across a canal,
can look remarkably like Laszlo.
In any case, the frame capture below is from a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful movie called
Bis ans Ende der Welt
(Until the End of the World),
which is four and a half hours long but if it were ten times longer it would still be worth every minute.
You think it looks silly?
Don’t worry, in context, it’s not silly at all.  | |
 | |
German Nurse |
Irma Veithan |
??? |
Gianfranco Bullo [uncredited in the English version] I’ve searched and searched and searched and searched, but for the life of me I don’t see him anywhere in this movie |
 | |
Military Band Leader |
Eolo Capritti |
??? |
Marina Cecchetelli [uncredited in the English version] |
??? |
Maria Pia Colonnello |
 | |
Giustina |
Milly Corinaldi |
??? |
Luciano Crovato [uncredited in the English version] |
??? |
Edgardo Fugagnoli |
 | |
??? I can’t identify him in the movie (unless, maybe, he played Commendator Cosulich?), but above is a photo I just found on the Internet |
|
 | |
Dottor Davide Fano |
Giovanni Michelagnoli |
 | |
??? I can’t identify him in The Key — unless maybe he played the barber? Anyway, here’s a photo I just found on the Internet |
Arnaldo Momo [uncredited in the English version] |
??? |
Sara Tagliapietra |
??? |
Mirella Zardo |
 | |
Tithe collector |
Antonio Salines
(He’s not credited, and nobody anywhere at any time has ever mentioned or noticed that he’s in this movie.
As a matter of fact, for years and years, every time I saw his momentary scene, I thought to myself,
“He looks so familiar. Where have I seen him before?”
And then finally it clicked:
“That’s Antonio Salines!”
He and Tinto had worked together in the 1970s in Roberto Lerici’s play, Family Lunch,
which, judging from the few publicity stills I’ve seen, looks stunningly surreal.
He went on to become one of Tinto’s regulars.
For more photos of this prominent stage actor, click
here and
here and
here
and here.) |
??? |
According to IMDb and other sources, a sculptor by the name of
Pietro Lorenzoni
also made an appearance in this movie,
but I don’t know what he looks like and so I can’t identify him.
I would hazard a guess that he played Radoničić,
but that’s only a guess and I’m probably wrong like I usually am.
Click here to see one of his sculptures. |
| THERE ARE MANY HUNDREDS OF EXTRAS WHO APPEAR MOMENTARILY, OFTEN FLEETINGLY IN THE BACKGROUND. AMONG THEM ARE THE FOLKS BELOW. I CANNOT IDENTIFY THEM AT ALL. IF YOU KNOW WHO THEY ARE, PLEASE WRITE TO ME. THANKS!!! | |
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Radoničić |
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Barber |
??? (Is it Arnaldo Momo? There seems to be some vague resemblance, but I really can’t tell to save my life.) |
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Housewives whose names Nino would recognize were he to hear them |
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Widower who can pay for his kicks |
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VIPs at the gallery |
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Two more VIPs at the gallery |
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Commendator Cosulich |
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Anania Longobardi (on the left) |
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Street urchins |
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The waiter who is forbidden by law from speaking any language other than Italian (He looks a little bit like Paolo Stoppa but I’m sure he’s not) |
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A clumsy pedestrian |
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Street vendor who enjoys watching clumsy pedestrians |
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A guy who’s always around and regularly taunted by street urchins |
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Cosma |
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Tavern folk |
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More tavern folk |
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Voglio morire |
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One of Zaira’s regulars |
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Approving guy on the street |
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Painter |
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Young couple |
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| AND SINCE YOU WERE ALWAYS WONDERING WHAT WAS REALLY IN THOSE DIARIES: | |
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