A film forgotten by most to this day, "Lo scopone scientifico" proves to be one of the creative zeniths of Italian cinema of all time, surpassing the conventions of Italian-style comedy and defining, in some respects, an Italian path to noir and the grotesque, which, unfortunately, has never been seriously considered by industry professionals, directors, screenwriters, and producers.
For those who haven't seen the film, or have forgotten it, I'll briefly summarize the plot, which is quite straightforward overall: a couple of Roman underclass lives, along with their numerous children, in a shantytown on the far outskirts of the capital. The couple, known as expert scopone players, are invited by a wealthy American bourgeois woman and her Secretary, vacationing in Rome, to participate in endless card games at her villa, wagering not only their (meager) money but also the hope of a more dignified future and social redemption. The winning couple - whose identity I won't reveal - will bask in glory only briefly, as the unexpected ending of the film casts a sulfurous light on the entire story.
The narrative plot of the film, outlined in its essential lines, already confirms the originality of "Lo scopone scientifico" compared to much of post-war Italian cinema, balancing dark comedy lines with the drama of class conflict, documentary analysis of the ruins hidden behind the economic boom, with full control of the plot, written by the never too praised Rodolfo Sonego.
Unlike other pretentious films of the era (apologies to the fan(atics) of Pasolini or Maselli, for instance), the message in "Lo scopone" is delivered in an apparently simple and light manner, yet is no less impactful on the memory of the viewer: life as an endless battle of one against the other, and, above all, as a continuous succession of oppressions, which not only puts the couple's life in crisis but also the very trust in others, revealing the individual as a subject devoted to systematic alteration of reality, bluff, and lying as a means of self-assertion.
It's interesting to note how Comencini, often hastily described as the "director of childhood", as if to underline his trust towards minors' feelings and potential, stages a story where young people themselves act according to ancestral codes of violence, avenging their parents' frustrations without truly improving the existing situation (not bad for a film made during the age of youth protest and revolt). Equally significant is the relationship between the film's message, where man ultimately has no hope of salvation, and Comencini's Protestant-Waldensian religion, so antithetical to that Catholicism in which the individual, especially through their works and daily work, always has the possibility of redemption from original sin. In Comencini, sin seems ineradicable, from generation to generation.
From a technical standpoint, the film marks one of the best phases in Luigi Comencini's career (often forgotten when tracing the brief history of post-war Italian cinema) and one of the most convincing acting performances by Alberto Sordi, in the role, for once subdued, of the commoner who suffers the oppressions of the powerful of the moment, and especially by a Silvana Mangano returned to cinema without the beauty of youth but with a dramatic and folk charge reminiscent of the characters of the best neorealist cinema. The cameo of Domenico Modugno is also charming and successful. To this, add the participation of the American ace duo Joseph Cotten and Bette Davis to give a sheen of authentic internationality to a film certainly recommendable for fans of old-time cinema, classic because it still has something to say to every viewer today.
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