It occurs to me Zefirelli is very fucking untalented, or else how could atrocities in the degree of say Brother Sun, Sister Mooni be explained ? It's literally "young politician going places meets social caseworker", the worst parts of City Hall reshot by some idiot with all the cinematic finesse and understanding of say that goof Tarkovsky, or a random block of wood. Charlton Heston's farcical facial contortions of perpetual constipation benefit at least from an actual film occuring all around them, but this misery... On some level I'd like to think Zefirelli was merely a cynical exploiter of early UStard pantsuit "thought"/narrative proclivities, that he knew all along what crap he's turning out but turned it out regardless, for money or whatever. Try as I might there's really not much available to make that case.
Brother Sun, Sister Moon is little more than the retarded dumbos in San Pedro scribbling on walls some half-baked nonsense about how "their lives are more important than [my] profits" or whatever in that hysterical vein, a tiresome collection of the five or six perpetual avatars of infantile imbecility -- the girl that is only interested in the boy once it's clear he's defective, the "French" speaking mother, the... Bleargh. Pointlessly contrived bullshit of this sort has no place in civilised society, and that's the last possible world on the matter.———
- 1972, by Franco Zeffirelli, with a bunch of inept fucktoys supposedly "acting", because this is the problem with permitting faggots run things : they run things right up their own arse. [↩]