Giovanni, an actor, has not been successful in life; his identical twin, Pippo, has. But Pippo hasn’t been lucky in love. The bullet hole in his left temple testifies to this; and to what else? There’s a terrible burden in being the family black sheep; is there a subtle burden to bear in being its prince? Giovanni is in Bologna for his brother’s funeral. The family has closed ranks in a kind of play; for Mother’s sake the others hide that Pippo’s death was a suicide, which according to her ardent faith would bar Pippo’s soul from Paradise. Or is Mother herself hiding (perhaps even from herself) that she also is participating in this charade?
Many consider Gli occhi, la bocca Marco Bellocchio’s lamest piece of work, in part because it uncomfortably plays off his legendary first feature, Fists in the Pocket (1965). The same brilliant actor who played Alessandro, the black sheep of a highly dysfunctional family, now plays Giovanni and Pippo, who also belong(ed) to a highly dysfunctional unit—a reflection of the postwar erosion of the hierarchic, patriarchal Italian family structure; whereas Ale kills off his family, starting with Mother, everyone now is protecting Mother from the truth about Pippo. What strikes most viewers as diciest occurs when Giovanni wanders into a darkened movie theater, and what should be playing? Fists in the Pocket! Color collides with black and white; briefly, there is another, less tender image of Lou Castel with which to contend. Preparing us for this burst of postmodernism have been surreal flashes of Giovanni’s imaginings that interrupt “reality.” Almost inevitably, according to script, Giovanni becomes his twin’s fiancée’s lover.
This is Bellocchio’s worst film; but it isn’t fraudulent, as some claim. And Castel, of course, is wonderful.
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Dennis Grunes 