Il Burberoi is fine Italian comedy.
The guy's a Gypsy-looking lawyer who isn't particularily interested ; the gal's a very comme il faut ditz -- simple, loving in that simple manner, fully convinced to the marrow of her bone that all she has to do is sit that way for petting, stand that way for feeding and c'est tout. If the buttons don't work clearly something's wrong -- with you. A kitten, if you will, of convenient size for certain purposes.
The writing's altogether miserable, a lengthy, drawn out, cheesy story of vague noir. Spaghetti noir, if you will. The device of the testaferro foil is so very strong, however, so incredibly powerful that it carries the whole production, #1 por quantidad the queso por porcion screenplay &all.
To spoil some of the better jokes, from memory :
You know, you're not all that bad, deep down.
I'm great, and if I had any friends they would confirm.
Why do you keep asking me for help ?
Because you're the only person I know in Florence.
Ok, but promise me that after this you will meet some more people.
You know, I lied about my husband being ill.
Was he dead ?
My fatty plants ?
But did they telephone ?
Smartass! How would I have tied myself ?
You're a born liar. It comes to you naturally. You had it as an infant. You could have done this and more.
What a beautiful silver artichoke.
It's not an artichoke, it's the seal of Florence. And it's not silver, it's white gold.
I need help.
I don't help anyone.
How do you get all these ideas ?
I have a subscription to Il Giallo Mondadori.ii
Good girl. You guessed it, even if I suggested the answer to you.
Are you crying for all the money you lost ?
Then why ?
Because our story is finished.
It never started.
Then I... I don't mean anything to you ?
Nothing. Zero. Actually you know what ? I've always disliked you.
And so on and so following. Definitely worth the coupla hours (made for TV movies, what do you want), which is a lot more than can be said for the piles upon piles of contemporaneous US crap.
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