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Rating: Let me begin by saying that I, today, almost 18 years old and living in Rome, my native city, as a 100% heterosexual, am disgusted by how the transgender world (like the homosexual world) is ridiculed by hypocrites seen in certain clubs (?) or at certain events held in June here in the Caput Mundi (I mean... at this point it would be better when they're held in other Italian cities) who claim to be cultured and intelligent while proving themselves as false as they are cunning (you know who I'm talking about). Regardless of the freedom of expression, if it is true that each of us has a brain to reflect, it is also unjust that certain idiots seen around (whom you can't even tell if they are truly transsexuals or drag queens) should impose their views on how we should help the transgender world. And we shouldn't fall into the usual old habit of talking about racism every time there's someone like this we don't like, because we are not insulting the entire gender. Sure, at times we explain ourselves poorly, but the point remains.
Having said all this, personally, the transsexuals I support are those who do not make a mockery of themselves and try to be themselves in the most TRUE way possible. Eva Robin's, an intriguing female creature, both ambiguous and androgynous at the same time, whom I got to know (not in person) at the age of 8 through a cinema magazine from Telepiù belonging to my uncle while I was on vacation with my family in Caserta, is one of them. But I did not know her story. Only over time did I learn everything about her. But this has not altered my opinion (and my respective passion) for Eva, whom I adore at the same level as all the girls I like. But that’s another story.
In this "Belle al Bar", released in 1994 and which I consider one of my favourite films among those I've seen to date, a Tuscan man from Pelago (I believe located near Florence) had managed to take the bull by the horns, thanks to Eva's presence in the main cast. This man, former member of the Giancattivi (a theatrical group which also included Francesco Nuti and Athina Cenci, from the 70s/early 80s), was named Alessandro Benvenuti, who we mostly know for "Ad Ovest di Paperino" (the only film made with the aforementioned two) or for the extremely funny "Zitti e Mosca," a depiction of the transformation of the Italian Communist Party into the Democratic Party of the Left.
The plot is simple but effective: the life of the restorer Leo (Benvenuti) runs on relatively calm tracks. He doesn't mind his work and his marriage, although troubled by shadows of crisis, proceeds relentlessly. But when an antique dealer friend, living in another city, offers him a temporary job, he gladly accepts. Leo thus seems to be heading towards a new routine. A mysterious woman (Eva) who begins to follow him disrupts the flow of his existence. Soon the matter becomes clear. The stranger is Giulio, the cousin of the restorer, whom he has not seen for ten years, in the meantime having become a fascinating female creature.
The film flows smoothly, without problems; there’s also some laughter, and one notices the attention to detail that the good Alessandro reserves from start to end, without aiming to create a masterpiece (unlike a certain "OcchioPinocchio" also from '94, disappointing in every way). But the main strength of the cast is surely Eva Robin's herself, a true sex symbol of the transgender world, a well-achieved mix of beauty and talent, a character too underrated back then and even more so today, given the arrival of the nothings I mentioned above.
It’s a pity that after this film, barring some last-minute strikes, Benvenuti will begin a slow artistic decline (very similar to that of Nuti, though fortunately Alessandro won't fall into the drug problem). And that’s truly a shame.
This film should be seen in my opinion, to understand how one can represent something difficult with certain care, attention, and a lot, a lot, a lot of sympathy without slipping into the crude like happens today. Nowadays, very few in Italy know how to do it at the levels of an Almodovar (even though with much more dramatic flair, given the themes of his films). Let’s think about it.
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