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Rating: Castellano and Pipolo - "I marziani hanno 12 mani" - 1963
The Martians have arrived, aka Siamo quattro marziani, Llegaron los marcianos, The Twelve-Handed Men of Mars: a cult small B-movie abroad, where science fiction is just a pretext for this Italian-Spanish production from the '60s, a bit like Tinto Brass's "Il Disco Volante"; all the genre tropes are here; a flying saucer from ET from a distant galaxy lands in the capital to study earthlings, build a base, and prepare for a peaceful invasion after taking control of the mass media -prophecy of the dwarf of Milan?-
To do this, even though they possess an indecipherable form – the twelve hands of the title – through electronic teleportation pods – a full 3 years before Star Trek! - the aliens take on human form and begin the conquest of Rome during the dolce vita period. However, they get the camouflage outfit wrong, exit the UFO dressed as fascists, and are beaten up. They decide on space suits instead. Their epic descent with silver suits on Via C. Colombo in the middle of traffic, with Paolo Panelli at the front and the astrological-alchemical sun with mercury symbol on their chest -sic!-. The contact with the civilization of those times will be devastating for them; thus, amid corruption, nouveau riches, and swindlers, they ultimately end up being seduced by Earth's women and decide to stay. The film features a crowd of actors and personalists, Aldo Giuffré, Margaret Lee, Franco e Ciccio, Magali Noël, Enzo Garinei, Paolo Panelli, Lando Buzzanca, Jimmy il Fenomeno...
The film is thus an acerbic critique of the sordid hidden behind the Dolce Vita and the economic boom of the '60s and in its way prophetic: mass-produced public housing-the alien cyborg notices it by deciphering the concrete by chewing a piece of building; then real estate speculation on agricultural land, servility of the boorish masses, silly dances and general befuddlement, traffic, pollution, increase in homosexuality -is it an extinct race-asks the Martian to the boss Panelli, No, increasing he replies, indignant: all accompanied by demented chants like the 45s of Rita Pavone or Edoardo Vianello... Nothing escapes the ruthless analysis of the E.T.s.
Speaking of songs, the pseudo-alien Paolo Panelli, who due to his superior technology considers earthlings primitives, looks with disdain at the vinyl record of a terrestrial jukebox one of the E.T.s has fallen in love with: the jukebox with such a futuristic design is an Ami Continental, now a very expensive modern antique. Featuring music by maestro Ennio Morricone.
A film for Sunday contemplation.
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