Neri Parenti
Fracchia la belva umana

Paolo Villaggio is either loved or hated.
There are no compromises.

In some ways, his career is also divided into two: on one hand, the educated intellectual, son of the good Genoese bourgeoisie, who managed to shake the conservative audience at the end of the '60s with the character of Dr. Krantz, who mocked the world of work and certain hierarchical society in the books and the first three films of the "Fantozzi" series (inspired by Bersezio, Svevo, Kafka - note the ascending climax), who frequented the glitzy acting world of Gassmann, Tognazzi, Monicelli, Olmi, Fellini, who performed Molière at the theatre, the memoirs of a poor old man; on the other hand, a showbiz professional involved in film productions of questionable taste and low artistic value (but of great success), especially from the late '70s to the mid '90s, author of throwaway booklets published in the Christmas period, a figure in afternoon Sunday shows.

Honestly, I've never understood if, in the end, Villaggio is being serious or just playing: if he's naïve or cunning if he's good or a jerk. Perhaps, like almost all of us, he's a bit of everything. It's maybe for this reason that, among all his films, I especially appreciate "Fracchia la belva umana" (1981), in which he plays both the weak Fracchia and the fierce criminal, lookalikes fighting to survive with no holds barred.
It's as if, in this film, Villaggio stages his own story and life, denouncing himself as a victim and executioner, of his ego, his characters, his life. The title is already a promise: "human beast" as a presumed killer, but also as a feral man, yet lacking the "claws strong enough" to kill, as Gozzano of Totò Merumeni would say.

It's the film in which he acts best: just notice how he transforms, even physically, in the role of the poor clerk and in the role of the tormentor, how his gaze becomes pleading at one moment and hard the next. How he seems thinner in the role of the murderer, fat and clumsy in the role of the victim. Had Sellers, De Niro, or Hoffman done it, directed by a Blake Edwards, a Scorsese, a Levinson, we would be here talking about Oscars won or lost by a hair.

In the end, "Fracchia" is an ambiguous film: suspended between perfect comic mechanisms (thanks to excellent supporting actors: see the fabulous pair of police officers Banfi - Ghiani, Gigi Reder, cameos by Salvi and Boldi, the classic Mazzamauro and Reder), between farce scenes (dinner at Gigi il Troiane), and more thoughtful reflections, in the background, on good and evil, on being and appearing.

For this film alone, I love Paolo Villaggio.