Brutti, sporchi e cattivii captivatingly retells the story of a rather virile man. He has a wife, for 30 years, and a large family, for which he's sacrificed tantoii as well as a house, which he owns, and if not today then one of these tomorrows will kick all of 'em off his lawn. He sleeps with a loaded carbine and hides his stash of cash. He also fucks his daughter in law after seeing a different son than her husband (who happens to be a transvestite) fuck her all complacent-like, while she's washing her hairiii. Standing.
Anyway, one day he meets a whore and brings her home. "You're not a stranger, you're a friend of the owner. I'm the owner." The wife doesn't like the idea, but as far as he can see she's being silly : "you've been my wife for thirty years, why can't she have a little bit too ?" So they sleep together in the bed, "it's large enough, we'll tighten up". The wife still doesn't approve, and no-one asks her anything still.
La chiaveiv is a rather sad retelling of the misadventures of a very effette man. Other than dying with his wife's bra, stockings and garter belt on, the insufferably infantile "professor" of nothing in particular enlists the help of his daughter's boyfriend in fucking his wife. They two together almost-sorta-barely manage to fill the hole, if you're not checking for burbles too closely.
It's tedious to watch, deeply disinteresting, a bunch of retards thinking erotic photography consists of unsplit thighs and so thoroughly & completely incapable of communication as to leave each other "journals" to "find" because "could never say to face".
Tinto Brass' atrocity leaves no doubt whatsoever that he's an untalented hack, if such were still sought. Ettore Scola's impressive tour de force leaves no doubt whatsoever he's a major force in cinema, Italian or otherwisev.
The only problem is that, to quote that ancient story, the world of the virile man is rather... thinly built, rather cheaply put together. Not very tall at all. Whereas obviously the world of the other, inexplicablyvi immaculate as it may find itself, is evidently not worth living in. Wut do ?
Wut do ?———
- 1976, by Ettore Scola, with Nino Manfredi [↩]
- In his own words :
Delinquenti criminali! Ammazzare'un padre. Dopo tutti gli sacrifici che l'ho fatto per loro. Heh! Eppure l'hai visto, che mostro de femina mi s'ho devuto fottere per farli nascere. Altrimenti e migliorata, a preso un po' de barba.
Delinquent criminals! To kill a father! After all the sacrifices I've made for them. Heh! You've seen it yourself, that monster of a female I had to fuck to get them born. And she's even improved now, she's growing a bit of beard.
No, I get it, you don't approve of his perspective. So ? [↩]
- Washing her hair, get it ? [↩]
- 1983, by Tinto Brass, with Frank Fine-Lay and Stefania Sandrelli [↩]
- We're on the same page here, yes ? [↩]
- All the women ever do seems to be dumping randomly their dirty knickers, none of them ever does any picking up or cleaning whatsoever.
From the unassailable fortress of one who's the only non-cleaning element that nevertheless just screamed at pantyless ho over her insufficient housework frequency I can definitely declare no such thing could possibly exist.
What, he's got a majority of non-cleaners dirtiers yet no cleaning needs done at any point while I've a majority of cleaning non-dirtiers and yet the cleaning's insufficient ? Tell this to the mute, what.
But such is the substance of religious quackery in all times and places, to misrepresent their supposed paradisiac offerings to such insane proportions as to contradict baisc logic. Socialism-etatism aka pantsuitism is no different, of course, but then again I know plenty of idiots stupid enough to actually believe that if you listen to what the woman says the work's gonna get done by itself. God helps the faithful, right, and therefore if you write up teh holy tablets of human rights on your wall there's going to be a legion of gremlins come out of the void at night to pick up all the dirty panties everywhere. Just like it happens on the movie set. Don't you believe ?
They also come and balance the Mommy state's balance sheets, also at night, because as in the household so in the republic, which is why the USG hasn't run a deficit since 1945. Or rather... hasn't published an actual budget. But what the hell's the difference, right ? [↩]