Alain Delon is Choucas, an ex-cop turned private investigator in Paris. One morning a new client, Isabelle Pigot (Annick Alane), seeks his services: her young-adult daughter, Marthe, has been missing for a month, and Isabelle believes the police are not working diligently. Marthe didn't leave on her own free will, believes Isabelle, as she had a good life with a stable position working at an institute for the blind. Marthe is also blind. Before Isabelle can write a check, Choucas gets a visit from Coccioli (Daniel Ceccaldi), a police inspector who tells Choucas just to take this lady's check and say that he cannot find Marthe. Subsequent to taking her check, Choucas gets another visitor, Pradier (Gérard Hérold) who tells Choucas that Marthe is with his friend and has gone to another country. Pradier isn't credible, and Choucas doesn't believe his story. Isabelle summons Choucas for a meeting at the open-air Trocadero plaza where she is killed. After a couple subsequent attempts on his own life, Delon's Choucas realizes that he is not working on a simple missing-person case in Alain Delon's directorial debut, Pour la peau d'un flic (For The Death of a Cop) (1981).
By this point in his career, Delon was developing his own projects and he reunites with screenwriter, Christopher Frank (who penned the previous Parisian crime thriller with Delon, Three Men to Kill (3 hommes à abattre) the year before) for Pour la peau d'un flic. Interestingly, the film indirectly serves as a representative transitional film at the beginning of the decade. Delon is clearly the attraction in Pour la peau d'un flic, and his camera rarely leaves his character during its run time. While the film is clearly intended to be modern, Delon uses cinematically outdated investigation techniques (Choucas actually has to hit the streets and find clues; interview and interact with people; and speculate and take a chance on where to go next after finding a clue). Not only would the 1980s see technology become more focal in action cinema (bigger weapons with even bigger explosions), technology in cinema would become embraced by its investigators, forever changing their style and depiction. The classic and iconic actor imbues Pour la peau d'un flic with an old-school private-eye narrative, a classic and sometimes light comedic subplot, and action scenes, honed from repetition during the entire decade of the 1970s.
By this point in his career, Delon was developing his own projects and he reunites with screenwriter, Christopher Frank (who penned the previous Parisian crime thriller with Delon, Three Men to Kill (3 hommes à abattre) the year before) for Pour la peau d'un flic. Interestingly, the film indirectly serves as a representative transitional film at the beginning of the decade. Delon is clearly the attraction in Pour la peau d'un flic, and his camera rarely leaves his character during its run time. While the film is clearly intended to be modern, Delon uses cinematically outdated investigation techniques (Choucas actually has to hit the streets and find clues; interview and interact with people; and speculate and take a chance on where to go next after finding a clue). Not only would the 1980s see technology become more focal in action cinema (bigger weapons with even bigger explosions), technology in cinema would become embraced by its investigators, forever changing their style and depiction. The classic and iconic actor imbues Pour la peau d'un flic with an old-school private-eye narrative, a classic and sometimes light comedic subplot, and action scenes, honed from repetition during the entire decade of the 1970s.
The simple missing-person case doesn't stay simple in Pour la peau d'un flic, as it grows much wider in scope, implicating a bigger conspiracy, only growing slightly incredulous at times. Delon's Choucas enlists his good friend, Haymann (Michel Auclair) to help him in the investigation when Choucas becomes a target himself. The two veteran French actors feel like close friends, and the intimacy the two share is genuine. The majority of their scenes are dialogue,as each bounces ideas and questions off the other as to how to proceed in the investigation. Then there are really clever scenes with the two, as when Choucas has a subdued suspect before him, he tells Haymann to get a hammer. Haymann just slightly nods, well-familiar as to what Choucas is going to do to the man. When Choucas has a gun pointed at him and looks as if his adversary has the upper hand, it is Haymann who pops in right on time in aiding Delon's character.
The real attraction besides Delon, in my opinion, in Pour la peau d'un flic is the character Charlotte, Choucas's secretary, played by Anne Parillaud. About a decade later, she would blow cinema's door off the hinges in Luc Besson's nearly pitch-perfect La Femme Nikita (1990). Her screen presence is quite powerful, and one gets the impression while watching Pour la peau d'un flic that she is underused, despite appearing in nearly the entire picture. The romantic subplot involving Delon and Parillaud is well developed, as the events become more intense in the picture, the two begin to reveal their feelings for each other. A lot of the humor in the film comes from these scenes, and unfortunately her character's English-dubbing (of the version that I saw from an HK DVD) is terrible and most of it is lost. Delon adeptly knows how charismatic and beautiful the young actress is and doesn't spare her close-ups. Parillaud is a fantastic actress and she brings more energy to the film than the action scenes. The classic romantic comedy is dated, yet both Delon and Parillaud are able to carry it with their charisma and chemistry alone.
I've seen seemingly a million crime films, and despite the familiarity of the narrative of Pour la peau d'un flic, I really cannot tire watching Delon acting super cool and taking on the bad guys. Even dubbed in English, when he makes smart-aleck remarks during a high-speed car chase, Delon is cool. When sitting in a cafe and having coffee and smoking Gitanes, Delon is cool. He's so cool that he cast this beautiful young actress in a small and welcomed part:
Pour la peau d'un flic shows a lot of the magic of the waning days of this cinema. A must-see for Delon fans (and Parillaud fans and don't be surprised when it's her that stays with you after viewing). 
Director Bennati penned the script of L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone with Paolo Levi and Biagio Proietti, set in a single location with ten characters. Patrick is quite correct when he says that each character has a motive for murder: nearly every one is either related to, romantically involved, or in financial debt/dependence to Patrick. Hence, since every one is a potential killer (at least until becoming a victim), most are depicted as passive/aggressive or contemptible people. While motives are essential for murder mysteries, watching these characters bicker and backstab (metaphorically) for ninety minutes is far from entertaining; so this familiar plot gets one interesting and unfamiliar addition, a supernatural element, and the sensational elements of the script get pushed to the foreground. L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone is a fairly successful mix of classical mystery and 70s-style sex and violence. 
One of the notable features of L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone is the inclusion of several notable actresses of the period. Janet Agren appears as Kim, a would-be actress and fiance of Patrick, who every one knows is marrying Patrick for his money; Paola Senatore is Lynn, Patrick's daughter who in initial scenes appears as if she has romantic feelings towards her father; and Lucretia Love plays Doris, who is involved in a romantic relationship with Patrick's sister, Rebecca (Eva Czemerys). Bennati goes to some lengths in depicting Doris and Rebbeca's relationship as not only secret but also very taboo and decadent. In addition, all the actresses mentioned perform at least one nude scene, and of the actresses mentioned, those who are victims suffer more terribly as the film progresses. The first murder in L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone is less graphic and ornate than the subsequent one, as the murders increasingly become more brutal and contrived. 
Bennati does not rival his script, despite any attempts to do so, with his sensational scenes in L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone. Rather, the sensational scenes afford a more judicious use of character-driven scenes, keeping the bickering and backstabbing to a minimum. By far not a character-driven film with depth, there is enough background to each character to keep the viewer intrigued. Among the sex and violence and exposition, Bennati, to his credit as each are quite effective, is able to compose more than one odd and unreal sequence. One of the ten characters is named, at least in the English-dubbed version, "the man in the Nehru jacket" (Eduardo Filipone). None of the other characters knows who he is, and when he appears, his character brings an appropriate theatrical feel to the film as his dialogue feels scripted. It is not as if his dialogue feels contrived but rather when he speaks it feels as if he knows something about someone or something is about to happen. Keeping the theatrical motif, Bennati lets "the man in the Nehru jacket" serve as a sort-of commentator on the drama, as from some classical Greek play. Very nice. It is always welcome when a character takes a violent shift in character by performing some nonsensical, non-violent act: subsequent to a murder, which intuitively one would think would instill grief or some accompanying emotion, Senatore's Lynn takes a moment in a dressing room for some disrobing and dancing. At a couple of minutes, the scene goes on too long for the narrative, but Bennati uses multiple angles to lovingly capture the actress. The scene is not completely sensational and has little narrative weight. Just disorienting and lithe. L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone benefits from these scenes' inclusion.
Carlo Savina delivers a beautiful score, a mix of funky-70s and classical composing. The film was shot by Giuseppe Aquari, and he captures the classical mix of old-school mystery and 70s sensationalism: the authentic theatre location goes a long way in creating its own atmosphere. It is a beautiful location and has enough claustrophobic settings and shadows to create its own tension and fear. Beyond that, Aquari shows an adept eye at the subjective, giallo-style P.O.V. from both victims and killer. There are classically-composed shots from wide, medium, and close-up angles side by side with more innovative camerawork, like his handheld shots. Low-budget and certainly now obscure, L'assassino ha riservato nove poltrone benefits from its talent and energy, focused and directed for its duration.
During the first act of Los asesinos de otros mundos, the machine-gun-toting criminals attempt to lift some contraband from a parked plane on a runway. Both well-armed and well-numbered the criminals begin to remove their booty, while Santo hides in the cargo area of the plane. The cargo hold is tight and cramped, and Santo is able to funnel most of the criminals into the small space for a beating. Santo eventually takes the fight from the plane to the runway, giving everyone a beating until the boss decides to flee in his vehicle. Santo stands in the way of the criminal boss's oncoming car and waves his arms but is subdued. Having hit our hero with a large vehicle, rendering him unconscious on the runway, the boss points a gun at his head. With one bullet, the world could topple with the death of Santo.
However, in supervillain fashion, one bullet is cinematically boring, so a contrived and cinematically sublime death scenario is envisioned. Los asesinos de otros mundos moves to another setting, another planet, where Santo is greeted by the supervillain at his throne. Santo, unarmed, is forced into gladiatorial combat with two really big dudes with medieval armory and weaponry. Santo has no fear and dispatches one, and another one appears. After Santo thwarts both opponents, the supervillain summons Santo's final opponent: a large man in a hazmat outfit armed with a flamethrower. As opposed to the previous two opponents, this one is state of the art and this character is where director Galindo impresses. While nearly everything during this sequence is theatrical, (the painted walls of starry space, the dirt ground arena mimicking the surface of another planet, the gladiator apparel and weaponry, and the supervillain throne) the final opponent looks both alien and familiar. While I assume safety guidelines were strictly adhered on the set and camera tricks employed to create tension, when the final opponent fires real streams of fuel and fire at Santo, it is quite scary. Santo, in rare fashion, displays a modicum of fear: I would not be surprised with every tumble he took, Santo hoped if an accident did occur, then his wrestling gear was flame-retardant. 
El tesoro de Moctezuma is late-60s spy cinema. Santo has a partner, the extremely handsome Jorge Rivero. Santo and Jorge perform the duties of one secret agent, but each character has to be present to perform the respective secret agent duties: Santo is both the muscle and the brains, while Jorge seduces the women. That's not an entirely fair description as Jorge does help with strategy, and Santo, I'm certain, was grateful for his help. That description of the two's duties is more or less apt. In a standout sequence, Jorge brings his lady to a bullfight, and the two are notable guests, as the matador greets them. The bullfight ensues, and during his date, Jorge notes the gentlemen with sunglasses and suits around the bullpen look suspicious. Jorge leaves his date to investigate. The gentlemen in suits and sunglasses pull their pistols and are going to kill Jorge. Jorge runs around the arena, firing the occasional shot at the bad guys, but he is outnumbered and takes a bullet in the shoulder. Santo appears, unarmed (and in a very stylish turtleneck sweater), and gives a beatdown to the bad guys. Above the bullpen, Santo lifts one of the gentlemen in a suit and sunglasses and raises him in the air. Santo tosses him into the bullpen, and the man is trampled and gored by a bull. Santo saves Jorge, and with a bullet in his arm, Jorge returns to his date. This scene is representative.
When Santo finishes his gladiatorial combat in Los asesinos de otros mundos, despite the drama, the film more or less ends midway. A new supervillain appears, who dominates his subjects with neckbands and can explode them on command, and Santo still has to save the word but has a more immediate task: helping gorgeous Karen (Sasha Montenegro) and her scientist father, Dr. Bernstein (Carlos Suárez). The one constant in the narrative, besides Santo, is the blob. The blob is menacing, and in the film's opening sequence, it looks unstoppable. With accompanying throbbing audio, the blob absorbs its victims. On the street or in the comfort of the bedroom, no one is safe. One could say it looks like a cover of latex rubber with five or six people underneath, decorated to look like a chocolate malt, but I'm not. Interestingly, Santo cannot dispatch the blob with his hands and must use his cunning to subdue it. 
El tesoro de Moctezuma has a beautiful sequence, shot very well by both Cardonas, at an Aztec pyramid. The authentic location provided quite the background for Santo to give the villains an ass whipping. Structurally, the Aztec pyramid has several levels, creating steps to its top; and it provides an excellent opportunity for Santo to pick up an opponent and throw him to his death. I seriously cheer whenever Santo performs this move in combat. Rivero is a nice addition to the film: he's good-looking and brings a youthful energy. All the sexy sequences with the actresses are welcome. In a humorous and clever flourish, the Cardonas have Santo and Jorge meet two beautiful twins in very different scenarios. Both Santo and Jorge hold one of the twins in his arms, simultaneously, yet events leading up to this act are radically different for both. El tesoro de Moctezuma has some wonderful compositions and is well-paced and exciting. 
Both films in El Santo fashion, two out of three falls, end in a draw. Too much infectious fun. And a blob.
It's curious as to whether Jean Rollin read this passage and was inspired:
Those "people and places who figure in his own universe" literally populate one of Rollin's latest films, La nuit des horloges (2007). A young woman, Isabelle (Ovidie) is like one of the hypothetical viewers referenced above: her cousin, a film maker named Michel Jean, has recently died. She knows little of the man personally. The two separated when she was very young. Now a grown woman, Isabelle sits near the entrance to a railway tunnel, reading her favorite book, when a character from one of Michel Jean's films appears to her. Isabelle begins a journey to discover what kind of artist her cousin was and to discover who he was as a person. During her journey, characters from his films continue to "pop up," and tell Isabelle about the film maker.
One of the most striking sequences occurs at a burned forest setting where Isabelle encounters a character played by Sabine Lenoël. Where is this place? asks Isabelle. The "burned forest" setting is one where the film maker always wanted to film but was unable to. The setting is striking natural scenery. Isabelle, through the grandfather clock at Michel Jean's home in Limoges, visits another location which Rollin himself identified as a place where he hoped to film in "his next film." (identified in his interview included as a supplement on the Media Blasters/Shriek Show 
While the meta elements are cleverly rendered into La nuit des horloges, this is by far not a post-modern attempt by Rollin to be self-referential and hip (which is seemingly annoying the majority of film viewers these days). During my first viewing, La nuit was quite disorienting: seemingly part of its design was to be strange and that was not lost on me. During a second viewing, I was struck by how melancholy the film was. A particularly affecting scene occurs with Isabelle and a genuine actor from one of Rollin's (or Michel Jean's) "lost" films. The actor, who is quite perfect in the film, is either generating true emotion felt by his lines and/or giving a very emotional performance. The emotion is very much present not only in the scene but in the overall film. This is not to say La nuit is depressing as a lot of the nostalgia and its positive energy is on display. Isabelle encounters another actress from Rollin's cinema in her bedroom at the maison in Limoges. Her performance is emotional also, but it is quite obvious her roles in Rollin's cinema were memorable and perhaps not tinged with any sadness.
Ovidie is a notable figure in current French cinema and its culture, and she deserves wider discussion in subsequent entries. During my second viewing of La nuit, I was struck by how similar she is to Brigitte Lahaie in many of her memorable performances from Rollin's cinema. Like Lahaie, Ovidie is an extremely beautiful and sensuous woman who conveys a powerful sexuality but who is also able to convey a real sense of innocence and shyness simultaneously. Her performance is essential to the success of La nuit. La nuit des horloges is available on region two DVD from German label, X-Rated, and has French audio with optional German and English subtitles. It's anamorphic widescreen and has chapter stops and nine trailers from the label's other releases (including some Rollin ones). I purchased the disc from retailer, 
Urueta doesn't need a traditional narrative for El poder satánico, but it has one. Viewing it as a collage piece is a better experience, made up of song-and-dance sequences, seduction sequences, Satanic sequences, wrestling matches, and Blue Demon sequences. El poder satánico resides in a character portrayed by charismatic and legendary actor, Jaime Fernández. From his jail cell, he smiles and is later buried by the hands of justice in a nondescript plot in the cemetery. Cut to modern times, as the hands of thievery are digging his grave whereupon the true poder satánico reveals itself and Fernández's character rises. It's not long before he dons a cape and finds a cobwebbed mansion with Gothic trimmings, but he doesn't behave in the traditional way a caped figure in a Gothic residence should behave. A young couple is walking in arms in a forest, clearly infatuated with each other, when Fernández's character encounters them. With the tight close-up upon the eyes, el poder satánico works its magic. The young man is killed (upon whose coffin Blue Demon sheds tears, giving him a personal stake in the administration of justice); and the young woman is captured by the power. Back at the Gothic residence, with his captive under his spell, Fernández's character seduces the woman twice and then leads her to a chamber, a homemade crematorium where she is burned alive. The satanic smile from Fernández's character returns.
In Arañas infernales, Curiel allows the aliens to invade right at the beginning and unlike Urueta, lets Blue Demon beat up bad guys and save the world. Blue Demon serves up justice, initially, in his athletic, fist-pummeling style. Beset by an alien immobilization attack, Blue Demon and his associates are seized, whereupon two alien henchmen in human form, donning black capes which are glittered with a spiderweb design, move into dispatch the group. Blue Demon sheds his cape and gives the two a beatdown. As most residing on Earth are apt to do, the aliens have clearly underestimated Blue Demon's power. Their strategy changes with some experimentation until deciding upon imbuing a wrestler with superhuman strength to enter the ring and take down our hero. This alien incarnation looks the part, glittery headband, shiny armbands and belt, and flowing cape; and appears credible in combat: as when he initially enters the wrestling arena, three wrestlers are sparring and a promoter is present. The alien wrestler asks to get into the promotion and challenges all three wrestlers as an audition. It's an impressive display, and soon Blue Demon is pencilled as his opponent. During their match, the likes of which pay-per-view has never seen, Blue Demon takes to this chump. Slowly, Blue Demon in a strategic move, works over his right arm. The human hand of the alien incarnation, as he is losing the match, begins to grow hair on his right hand. Blue Demon suppresses him with his athletic ability, and the alien incarnation shows its true form: his right hand takes the form of a spider. He enters the ring, and the crowd rushes for the exits, screaming. Blue Demon, the courageous hero, doesn't waver but is ready to serve up the final stage of his ass-whipping.
Virtually all Blue Demon action sequences within El poder satánico take place within the ring. Blue Demon's battle against Fernández comes in the form of academic study: Blue Demon is seen primarily behind his desk with a large, ancient tome in his hands. Urueta's compositions of Blue Demon at study are either haphazard (showing a careless attitude towards the production) or playfully brilliant: striking images, giving the superhero an Edgar Allen Poe-ish air who faces dark demons from legend. The actual wrestling sequences within both films actually reappear in both. El poder satánico features one match, two out of three falls, with Blue Demon winning two, but it's the same sequence shot in two different ways (perhaps this is lifeless carelessness from Urueta, but the end result is a disorienting, deja-vu effect). Santo makes a cameo appearance in El poder satánico, shaking Blue Demon's hand in the dressing room; and the viewer also gets to witness a Santo wrestling match, re-used from a Santo film from the period. Blue Demon is not the vehicle who drives the narrative of El poder satánico, but like all the sequences, he is driven by the images, as a powerful inclusion: a aong-and-dance sequence allows Fernández to seduce the singer, giving an opportunity for Gothic and satanic seduction which fuels Blue Demon who eventually has to end the evil character. Undeniably, Blue Demon is the vehicle and true savior within Arañas infernales (literal English title, Hellish Spiders), and the film could have benefitted from more indulgent, atmospheric, and/or surrealistic sequences (like its fantastic final ten minutes). Arañas infernales boasts a tried-and-true formula, has an absence of cinema's greatest superhero, El Enmascarado de Plata, El Santo, and benefits from showing Blue Demon as a great cinema superhero, himself, in his solo battle against the alien-cum-spiders. Long live Blue Demon.
Mark il poliziotto is Stelvio Massi's second poliziesco following Squadra volante (1974) and has an interesting commercial genesis. "I said, 'Why not make a film with Franco Gasparri?'" says Massi. "He [presumably this is producer, Pietro Bregni at P.A.C. who financed all of the Mark films (Italia Calibro 9, same reference as later in this paragraph)] said: 'No, who'd go and see it?'" Massi continues, "'Look, there's fifteen million picture stories sold a month. If we make it and the girls go and see how he moves--because he is static in the picture stories--maybe it'll work.' We started work two days later." (Massi's quote is taken from an interview included as a supplement on the No Shame 
Unsurprisingly, extremely-handsome Gasparri is both focal with Massi's camera and with the narrative (from a screenplay by legendary Dardano Sacchetti, from his story with Massi, Raniero di Giovanbattista, and Adriano Bolzoni). Superficially, Gasparri's Mark the Narc character seems a hybrid of Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry and Al Pacino's Serpico. One can see, beyond Dirty Harry's weapon of choice, the .44 Magnum, that Mark shares Dirty Harry's style of police investigation: warrants, evidence, and criminal procedural rules are obstacles. Intuitively, Mark, like Dirty Harry, knows the criminals are adhering to no rules themselves, so the only way to stop them is adhere to no rules to capture (or kill) them. Pacino's Serpico character (and Pacino's performance) is timeless and wonderfully complex and rich. Gasparri's Mark adopts Serpico's attitude towards police work with his appearance: like Serpico, Mark's hair and clothes match the youthful culture in which he works (which his boss, also, dislikes). Mark is also quite the ladies' man and in a more overt nod to Pacino's policeman, Mark has an extremely large pet dog, named Whiskey. Again, these are superficial comparisons, but Gasparri's character in Mark il poliziotto is only slightly deeper than his glossy photos. (Although Gasparri's Mark drives Sacchetti's script, his character is a vehicle which advances the plot. The character's actions do not create his own consequences and results which create the story. In other words, hero and villain are going to confront each other in the final act.) Considering the film's commercial genesis, some depth to Mark's character comes with his doomed romance with drug-addicted Irene (Sara Sperati). Mark shows pity on Irene at a crime scene where Mark and his straight-laced partner, Bonetti (Giampiero Albertini), find a dead body from a known figure in the drug trade. Appearances of his death lead to an overdose of heroin, but Mark believes it is a cover up for murder. Irene is a drug addict, also, and she floats around in the drug scene, frequently a target for men who sleep with her in exchange for drugs. Mark takes her to his apartment and calls a doctor to help her dry out. When she recovers, Mark sends her on her way, knowing more than likely, Irene is going to use again and hit the streets. This point is emphasized when Mark gives her a some money for a meal when the two separate: Irene refuses the money, because it is too tempting to go and use. She expresses a willingness to quit. Mark tells her to take it anyway, as he has little faith that she's genuine. The two reunite again after Irene has gone quite a few days without using (and the viewer sees in scenes that Irene is having a tough time, as no one wants to help her recover, including her mother). Eventually Irene's character becomes an essential plot device in Mark's investigation and Sacchetti's screenplay and Sperati's character yields to it.
Franco Gasparri is not only handsome but extremely charismatic. Massi does not spare the close-ups on his actor. "He was a real treasure," says Massi, "truly incredible. Apart from his good looks there were crowds of girls wherever he went. In Genoa they filled the piazza. And he was good, serious, and polite..." (taken from the Massi interview from the No Shame DVD of Squadra volante). The story of Mark il poliziotto does little to taint Gasparri's image: by far not a violent film (just compared to Massi's previous poliziesco) nor does it have a gritty depiction of street life nor a truly socially-critical message (despite the serious subject matter). Mark il poliziotto is the portrait of a young, good-looking, defiant cop who, no doubt, is relatable to the youthful audience to which the film was aimed. Likewise, there's a youthful energy to Mark il poliziotto and wherein lies its fun. Most of the adults (e.g. specifically the much older men) are depicted as money-driven, hollow, souless people. Lee J. Cobb's Benzi (whose casting was a real coup d'etat. The legendary American actor brings an amazing amount of professionalism to his role. He dubs himself in the English version and gives a great performance) is a strong example. Benzi sits in his palatial mansion one late evening going over paperwork. His wife is doing a crossword puzzle. Gasparri's Mark plays a prank on Benzi by calling him and playing a tape-recorded message of gunshots. Benzi doesn't care: he has too many important figures, including the police, on his payroll. He cannot be bothered with small-time cops or, for that matter, enjoy time in his house, doing something light and fun with his wife. 
Sacchetti's script does have some clever sequences, such as when Bonetti and Terzi go to see an importer/exporter (involved in the syndicate) and question him. The import/export business involves goods like small trinkets and toys. Bonetti picks up a toy police car and asks the businessman, "How much for this?" "You can have it," says the businessman, "for very little." "No thanks," says Bonetti. Very nice joke on corruption. Likewise, Massi's camerawork creates a very handsome production with Mark il poliziotto. "Technique's what helped me more than anything else," says Massi, "because I'd been an assistant and... And then an advantage I perhaps had was to be able to take the screenplay and slowly change it to my viewpoint. It was nothing extraordinary but that was it." (taken from the Massi interview on the No Shame DVD Squadra volante supplement.) Mimicking his own humility towards his artistic craft, Massi's style in Mark il poliziotto is elegantly simple and organic: no flashy compositions to compete either with Gasparri or the screenplay. Massi's desire is to make an entertaining action film and he delivers. Mark il poliziotto was phenomenally popular with filmgoers: "Il film costo 208 milioni, e ad un mese dall'uscita aveva gia incassato oltre due miliardi." (taken from Italia Calibro 9, same reference as above.) Massi would helm two sequels with Gasparri, Mark il poliziotto spara per primo (1975) and Mark colpisce ancora (1976) (with coverage of the two here soon).