Mario Monicelli
Le rose del deserto

A film with certainly more illustrious predecessors like "La grande guerra," "Mediterraneo," or "I due nemici," which almost doesn't want to be taken seriously. It starts slow, and as the fortunes of a war of invasion are reversed—it was said in the good days, Europe to the Germans, Africa and the Mediterranean to us—it transforms into something else, but always moving in fits, something more heartfelt and compassionate, even if it is laced with parodic ferocity, trifles, and fireworks.

Libya 1940, the box of sand we tore from the Turks with a lightning war in 1911, is returned to us with interest by the subjects of perfidious Albion, who, never tamed, if they do something, they do it seriously to the end, "Rimmel" included, with due respect to Mario Appelius. Adopted by Viareggio like the writer Tobino, whose "Deserto della Libia" the film is inspired by, he reenters the scene past ninety and a few years from the tragic end, allowing himself revolutionary freedoms in life that greatly impacted the souls of those who loved him.

Actors over the top or evanescent, flat and rough direction, dialogues of infinite poverty and a soundtrack that still cries for revenge, combined with the sad certainty of the writer that in the face of wars and suffering, one should never make comedy or parody, do not, however, scratch the desire and almost yearning for viewing this twilight film, almost a heartfelt farewell to this old-fashioned character, author of at least three or four masterpieces who indeed, like Tobino, had really been to Libya.