Word: carabinieri
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...Roman cops were not so sure. When the visitors, lacking a table to sign papers on, began moving a heavy stone slab around to make do, a dozen carabinieri came on the run to halt what looked like desecration of a national monument. When the sideshow ended at last, "the Greatest Show on Earth" passed to its new owners...
...tunnel, the only link between the ribbon-cutting ceremonies on the French side and the speeches on the Italian. Small wonder that one passionate European Federalist in the audience found the session disturbing enough to break through police lines and fling an envelope toward De Gaulle. As Italian carabinieri hauled him brusquely away, De Gaulle opened the envelope. Inside was a politely worded plea to both Presidents on behalf of European unity...
...forgot my license." "Wait, I'll throw it down to you," she chirps. Back on the road to Rome, the truck driver is stopped by the police for a routine check. The driver's license he produces isn't his. Double take, then slow burn. With carabinieri in tow, he roars back home, bursts into the bedroom to find his wife in intimo colloquio with her lover. While the cops collar the accidentally unlicensed Lothario, the husband picks up his naked wife, plunks her seat-first on the red-hot kitchen stove. Pffft...
Abandoned emerges as an erratic but deeply affecting work by an artist able to project a commonplace theme with blinding brio. Germi leavens his anger with compassion, lightens compassion with humor. And one pointed vignette embodies all three: a hard-pressed chief of the carabinieri, studying a wall map of Italy, impulsively flattens his palm over the entire island of Sicily and utters a long, long sigh...
Matioso. Sicily is the Dead Man's Gulch of Europe. It's hot, it's dry, it's wild. Instead of good guys and bad guys, there are carabinieri and mafiosi. Instead of Hollywood moviemakers there are Italian moviemakers who scuttle about the landscape manufacturing folklore. Most of them produce ludicrously crude goat operas, but once in a while somebody really gets Sicily on acetate. Pietro Germi did it once (Divorce-Italian Style); Luchino Visconti did it twice (La Terra Trema, The Leopard); and now Alberto Lattuada serves up ten or a dozen small but gloriously...