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Rating: In one of the many populous beehives of Rome, the most beautiful "criminal association" in the history of cinema is about to be born. We are in the '50s, in a still virgin capital, where there is still little vehicular traffic, the subway provides limited service, and where there still exists a friendliness and politeness almost completely gone today. Totò plays the role of the building's doorman, Antonio Buonocore, in name and in fact. Dutiful, law-abiding, honest, he shares the apartment with his German wife (with a German at the door, no treats are passed) the elderly mother, two children, and a dog. The arrival of the new building manager, the venal accountant Casoria (Luigi Pavese), disrupts the family's daily life with the risk of a punitive replacement in the precious job position.
Meanwhile, an old knight, without affection and on his deathbed, uses his last breaths to confide in good Antonio that he stole, in his last year of service at the "Policlinico dello Stato", a cliché and the necessary items to print two-seater tickets worth ten thousand lire. The knight's last will is for the suitcase containing the corpus delicti to be destroyed by being thrown from any bridge over the Tiber. The risk of ending up on the street, an impending promissory note deadline, and a bit of healthy curiosity, even break the incorruptible Buonocore who decides to take a look at the infamous ticket. However, there is a need for someone who can handle the technical part: a ten-thousand lire ticket is not printed by simply compressing the matrix onto a sheet of watermark paper. Casamassima, Altobelli, Lo Turco -Printer-, here's the man for the job! A printer!
Giuseppe Lo Turco, printer (Peppino De Filippo), runs a small business with the help of his somewhat lazy son. The meeting between the two will take place in a bar in front of two coffees, one necessarily very sweet and the other bitter, just to explain the current situation and what Rag. Casoria is made of. (Who is the accountant Casoria? Nooo, nearby. Nearby Casoria? Frattamaggiore? Caivano? Cardito? Torre Annunziata? Santa Maria Capua Vetere...). The job can be done, but it's necessary to get someone who understands colors involved, and that's where "the third man" comes in.
Good Cardone (Giacomo Furia), window decorator, with an eviction notice chasing him and a mother to support, accepts an illustrative coffee and after evaluating the risks, the mortal sins, and potential charges for a "limited liability crime", of which one could be guilty, joins this sparkling "Band of Honest Men". In my opinion, there are no appropriate terms, except for the usual superlative absolute expressions heated to the nth degree, to define the scenes of the night in the print shop for printing the first ticket, the count in front of the bar for its distribution, and rightly so, the fabrication of banknotes with dreams and projects included (the trip to Montecarlo for the casino, the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and a double wardrobe with an American watermelon to close beautifully).
The unexpected arrival of Buonocore's third son, a military man in the Guardia di Finanza, once again disrupts the plans of the three "counterfeiters." By a twist of fate, the department he is assigned to is searching for some counterfeit ticket dealers. In the blink of an eye, hilarious misunderstandings arise that will lead the unlikely gang, which would never have spent a banknote, to abandon the idea of a possible better future in order to remain honest (Of course, as a band of counterfeiters, we're a real mess!).
The protagonists of this film need no further titles. The director, Camillo Mastrocinque, confirms his excellent skill in directing those comedies devoid of vulgarity (which today overflow) that used to (and still) make people laugh out loud. A well-deserved recognition, for the spirited soundtrack, goes to the unfortunately shamelessly forgotten, Maestro Alessandro Cicognini, director of the most beautiful musical scores of the era (see Vittorio De Sica).
Monumental.
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