Fernando Di Leo
Milano Calibro 9

Defined by Quentin Tarantino, not without some exaggeration, the Italian Don Siegel, Fernando Di Leo is certainly the best crime film author we have ever had in our country. A genre that, almost like the western, seemed not to belong to us. The illustrious predecessors had been "In the Name of the Law" (1949) by Pietro Germi (absolutely a Fordian western set in Sicily) and also by Germi "The Facts of Murder" (1959), based on "That Awful Mess on Via Merulana" by Carlo Emilio Gadda. I'm going by memory here, so I'm sure I've skipped some titles. I don't forget the beautiful "The Crossroads" (1950) by Fernando Cerchio, with a Raf Vallone in a state of grace, a police tale of corruption against the backdrop of war.

After numerous collaborations in the genre cinema world (the most famous "For a Few Dollars More"), the Apulian director debuted behind the camera with "The Boys Who Slaughter" (1969), a story taken from a news event of the time concerning an alleged gang rape and murder by a class of students against a teacher.

With "Milano calibro 9" Di Leo reaches the zenith of his career and creates the best Italian film of the genre.

The story tells of Ugo Piazza (a magnificent Gastone Moschin in a dramatic role for the first time) who, just released from prison, is pursued by the men of the boss called "the American," as he seems to have embezzled a large sum of money (300,000 dollars destined for the American drug trafficking circuit) during a round of deliveries. Piazza claims innocence. The Milanese commissioner (Frank Wolff) also keeps an eye on him, as he too is convinced that Piazza is not a stranger to the affair, so he can use him as bait for the boss, to make him take a false step.
In Milan, Ugo finds his woman, Nelly (Barbara Bouchet, a flower of beauty), a strip dancer in a nightclub; she also asks if Ugo has the money, but he continues to deny it. Ugo promises Nelly that once he gets out of that grip, they will go live in Beirut (Bush was not president at that time...).
Ugo also finds his old godfather now blind (Ivo Garrani), attended by Chino (Philippe Leroy), a killer out of the mafia loop...

I won't go further to avoid spoiling the surprise.

"Milano calibro 9" is inspired by the stories of the Ukrainian/Italian noir writer Giorgio Scerbanenco, already taken as a reference for "The Boys Who Slaughter." The story is not taken from the homonymous collection but from other stories, like "The Milanese Kill on Saturday."

Di Leo uses Scerbanenco mainly as an inspiration for the atmospheres in which the events occur; rarely as in this film Milan is livid and foggy and neither San Francisco nor New York are missed. On the contrary, the setting in Italy's most metropolitan city proves to be an added value for this important chapter of the genre. The opening credits are introduced by an aerial shot of the city at dawn, bluish and livid, over which the fiery red letters of the titles stand out. Milan is seen as a dark infernal circle, congested by its buildings.

Adding to this are the music by Luis Enriquez Bacalov, which reprises the formula experimented in "The Designated Victim" (1971, Maurizio Lucidi). Baroque motifs fused with rock; if in Lucidi's film we found the New Trolls as guests ("Concerto grosso", remember?) here it is Osanna who give an even more substantial contribution to the overall sound of the soundtrack.

The actors are almost excellent: I mentioned Moschin above. Stander is the seasoned character actor of all time who abandons the usual good-natured tone to create a hard and ruthless character. Bouchet is not decorative and her beauty is a plus for building an ambiguous character. Wolff and Luigi Pistilli are efficient in their roles as the parafascist commissioner and the left-wing deputy Mercuri. During the film, we witness scenes in the police station where the fatalistic logic, ultimately similar to that of the criminal boss, clashes with the libertarian conception and more in-depth analysis of the roots of the mafia and the colluding entrepreneurs of Mercuri, an attitude that will cost him his transfer.

These moments of the film are considered out of context, parables dictated by the era and Di Leo's political ideas.

The truly successful "political" moment of the film is instead when, during a walk made by Ugo along with Chino and Don Vincenzo, the latter declares "You'll see that they will make an anti-mafia even in Milan". A prophecy that has come true in reality...

A special word deserves the interpretation of Mario Adorf, the extraordinary Austrian actor, a well-known face in Italian genre cinema. His Rocco Musco, the man in charge of handling dirty business on behalf of the American, is the most successful character in the film. Rocco torments Ugo throughout the film, but at the same time recognizes his intelligence and courage. Adorf gives Rocco a great expressive charge worthy of great American character actors. In a film like Scorsese's "Goodfellas," he would have been worthy of a Joe Pesci, an actor to whom he bears a great resemblance in terms of interpretation.
In fact, Di Leo will give the role of protagonist to Adorf in the following "Manhunt," which I find less successful than this but unmissable precisely for the outstanding performance of this tireless actor who seems to be made of volcanic stone.

Should I say it? Yes, even here pop up the labels of J. & B. whiskey and the ashtrays of Carpano and Boario water; a deplorable practice, which today marks an era, vintage. But, forgetting this horror, we are truly facing a mature genre cinema, not definable as "poliziottesco". An Italian hard-boiled film overall convincing and heartfelt, which has little or nothing to do with its degenerate offspring, whether it be commissioner Betti or Monnezza.

If the path of degeneration due to the intensive exploitation of poliziottesco was perhaps faster than that of spaghetti western, its offshoots remained under the surface in certain cinema of the 90s, see certain crime films by Placido, Base etc... But we are far from the magic and lack of pretentiousness of films like this, or the best works of Girolami, Castellari, Massi etc.; at the time, cinema aspired to be popular in the most genuine sense of the term and the most intelligent authors were confronting clichés to speak their own word about a way of seeing cinema and, whether aware or not, managed to tell a truer Italy than certain "committed" analyses.