Killer contro killers (Death Commando) (1985)

I've seen Killer contro killers (Death Commando) (1985) at least ten times, now; and while I notice more of its flaws with each viewing, the film still ranks as one of my favorites from writer and director Fernando di Leo. Killer contro killers is di Leo's final film. While most would see this film as an ignominious ending for the master filmmaker, his playful spirit is still very evident and his most dominant theme in all of his work, freedom, continues to pervade.
Scumbag and broker for the local criminal syndicate (Franco Diogene) is approached by His Excellency, the local kingpin (Edmond Purdom) to assemble a crew for a heist. Diogene's financial greed trumps his good sense and he agrees to assemble a crew for the heist, despite not knowing the particulars of the job. Diogene hires safecracker, Jaffe (di Leo regular, Fernando Cerulli); conwoman Cherry (Dalila Di Lazzaro); jack of trades, Ferrari (Albert Janni); and loner hitman, Sterling (Henry Silva). They all agree to work the heist. The heist involves breaking and entering into a military facility; stealing an important document out of the safe; neutralizing all hostile targets with non-lethal means; and blowing up the facility to erase all traces of a heist. The crew is successful, but it appears that each of the crew is another loose end in need of tidying up. Time to grab the firearms.
The first and second act of Killer contro killers are strong in their execution, primarily in their pacing, and the dramatic structure is easy-to-follow and competent. The first act is the exposition and introduces all characters while the second act involves the heist. None should find any distracting flaws, here.

The first and second acts are highlighted by their di Leo-ian flourishes and touches. During her character exposition in the first act, Di Lazzaro's Cherry is posing as an expectant mother, shuffling through a thoroughfare. Her mark is a businessman with a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. He is accompanied by two bodyguards. Cherry's boyfriend is in on the con and he is posing as a leisure-time roller-skater. Cherry gives the signal and her boyfriend grabs the mark. Cherry reveals a pair of wire cutters, but her mark kicks her in her belly, temporarily stunning her. She gets back up and defiantly, instead of cutting the handcuff, she cuts of the mark's hand.
Jaffe, the safecracker, is a voyeur. He likes to spend money on women and watch them disco dance in the nude in his apartment. His employers bring to his apartment a facsimile of the safe that he will encounter in the heist. Jaffe is supposed to practice upon this facsimile safe to prepare for the heist. I don't know why this sequence is brilliant, but when Jaffe practices on the safe, it is the ladies who like to watch.
As the hitman, Silva's Sterling must utilize non-lethal methods on his marks during the heist. He is given a tranquilizer rifle with darts as ammo. He goes to the park and practices using the rifle on the park's patrons. I bullshit you not. I do not laugh during these sequences but obnoxiously cackle.
Finally, during the evening of the heist, in order to gain access into the facility, the crew hires an extremely attractive young woman to bounce on a trampoline on the outside of the walls to attract the guards' attention. The crew is beyond successful.
The final act of Killer contro killers suffers from too many conversation scenes between Silva's Sterling and Janni's Ferrari. The substance of their conversation is repeated over and over. An especially long conversation occurs between Silva and Purdom. This scene wants to be confrontational and intense but it goes on too long to sustain its energy. The final shootout is fantastic. The scenes that are particularly noteworthy are Sterling unleashing his exotic pet (Puma? Cheetah?) upon an incoming gangster and the numerous scenes of Silva blowing up a single person with a bazooka. (Note: I obnoxiously cackle during these sequences, as well.)

All joking aside, Fernando di Leo envisioned Killer contro killers as a remake of John Houston's The Asphalt Jungle (1950). The original Spanish producers pulled out of the production and eventually the small production company, Robur, based in Rome, agreed to finance the film. Robur was comprised of producer, Mario Colajanni and actor, Albert[o] [Cola]janni and while they agreed to finance the film, the budget would not be much. As a result, di Leo significantly altered his script. Di Leo would have preferred Harrison Muller from his previous film, The Violent Breed (1984) as Silva's "co-protagonist." (from Fernando di Leo e il suo cinema nero e perverso, by Gordiano Lupi, Profondo Rosso, Rome, Italy, 2009, pp. 171-172.) This is speculation, but perhaps di Leo originally envisioned an American-style noir with Melville-ian undertones, as with his Milano calibro 9 (1972). Lupi suggests that Killer contro killers is "un noir ironico" in the vein of I padroni della citta (1976) or Colpo in canna (Loaded Guns) (1975). (Lupi, p. 172.)
Killer contro killers is definitely not for the uptight, and in my opinion, the veteran filmmaker played fast and loose with the film. Dalila Di Lazzaro performed a pop song entitled Cry baby cry within the film, and the entire song and her performance is captured, like a proto-music video. This sequence is strong evidence that the man was definitely not uptight. God bless you, Fernando di Leo.

Fernando di Leo's I padroni della città (Mister Scarface) (1976)

Fernando di Leo's I padroni della città (Mister Scarface) (1976) is a wonderfully flippant production about two young thugs, each with a death wish, who take on and subsequently take down, a powerful and ruthless mob boss, Scarface (Jack Palance). (The original Italian title playfully and ironically is literally translated as The Owners of the City or The Rulers of the City.) Fernando di Leo takes on the typical cinematic reverence for the mafia and wins.
Tony (Harry Baer) works for Luigi (Edmund Purdom), a fearful, small-time crime boss, as a debt collector. Tony only comes home to sleep as he prefers to work the streets of Rome from his obnoxiously orange dune buggy. Tony's appearance is as unassuming as his attire, t-shirt and jeans, yet he is wholly proficient in his work. (He gives a mechanic a severe beatdown at his garage when he refuses to pay.) In addition to being proficient, Tony is completely under-appreciated and underestimated by Luigi. Luigi's suck-up and hulking thug, Peppe (Enzo Pulcrano) balks at Tony when asks for more lucrative work but eventually shuts his mouth when Tony kicks his ass. One evening at Luigi's gambling den (which he operates in addition to a pool hall), another young kid, Rick (Al Cliver) is playing cards at a table and is cheated by the dealer. Rick gets tossed out when he accuses the dealer of cheating. Soon after, Rick's boss, Scarface powerfully makes an entrance and begins gambling at the table. Scarface asks the house to accept a check for three million lira and the house accepts. Scarface splits, and his crew gives Rick a beatdown for getting cheated and boots him from the organization. Tony helps Rick recover. Scarface's check bounces, and Tony asks Luigi to let him enforce the debt. Luigi reluctantly accepts. Rick has a plan to help Tony.
"Keeping in mind all the exaggerations required in cinema," says di Leo, "I think I've made realistic films. Or putting aside my merit, more realistic than other films. Absolutely, all my characters are much more real. Much more real psychologically. Both petty criminals and big Mafia bosses. Even the film 'Mister Scarface' is very realistic. It's less known than my other films but that lifestyle, those ways, those robberies, muggings, characters...the life of crime is full of them. I will always claim that realism. Of course, in shootouts, instead of two shots, there are fifty. But guys, that's cinema."
I padroni della città again shows di Leo's overwhelming love for the outsiders at society's fringes. Those "petty criminals" who are often nameless victims in cinematic shootouts take center stage. Di Leo gives Tony and Rick and their compatriots the cinematic reverence reserved for upper-echelon Mafioso types with a loving eye to detail. One of di Leo's signature characters appears, the tramp, a Falstaffian, witty character who provides both humor and commentary in the form of Napoli, portrayed by Vittorio Caprioli. Caprioli's Napoli breathes life into this culture: he was born a small-time hustler and still is. Napoli is a survivor, perhaps because he adheres to an old code of friendship, loyalty, and honor. His humorous commentary is often spot-on, but few, especially Tony and Rick, are listening. It is unsurprising when Purdom's Luigi is missing (supposedly gone into hiding) and Peppe assumes power that Napoli is the lone dissenter among the crew.
In a brilliant street sequence, Tony goes to collect a debt in a small neighborhood from an old geezer holed up with his favorite prostitute. The old geezer plays dumb, and Tony cuts him a break to collect later in the day. Back at his dune buggy, the kids are playing in and around it. Tony makes a few jokes with the children and has enough time to notice the old geezer has summoned some buddies to attack Tony and steal his money. Tony handles the thugs quite easily. Watching the children, wide-eyed and curious, cheer on Tony after his battle is a fantastic touch. Di Leo tops it by having Tony pay a visit to the prostitute before exiting. In super-cool fashion, "maybe later," she says.
I padroni della città is by far not a romantic portrayal. When Tony is beating the garage mechanic at the beginning, despite the fact that Tony's cracking jokes, it is fairly disturbing to watch him severely beat the man. Tony and Rick often get the upper hand on Palance's Scarface, but Palance's character is never portrayed as a buffoon. Jack Palance comes off as extremely cold, calculated, and violent. Di Leo shares this anecdote about him: "I had an argument with Palance. He was important in cinema, he was cinema. I asked him not to look his co-stars in the eye when he was talking to them. In Southern Italy it is a sign of disrespect. It's like saying you're much lower than I. But he just couldn't get that through his head. I had to argue with him because he wouldn't stop it. He'd say: 'You wanted Jack Palance, I know what I'm doing.' No! Much later, after it was released he once came up and broke a pipe in half. I decided to give him two, I showed him the material and that's when a real actor understands. He realized I'd helped him grow, I'd improved him. (gestures hat removal) Chapeau."
If the plot of I padroni della città seems incredulous, that two impulsive, wise-cracking street thugs could topple a large mafia organization, neither Tony nor Rick nor, especially, di Leo cares. Cliver's Rick is motivated by a single desire, revenge, and willing to die for it. During the film's incredible and violent finale at the slaughterhouse, Rick gives Tony and Napoli an opportunity to exit before Scarface and company arrive. Both Tony and Napoli show their true colors: Tony's carefree and impulsive, and the violence before him isn't a problem. Napoli will stand by his friends (and make a few jokes along the way). I padroni della città is a rich portrait of societal and cinematic outsiders in playful, flippant di Leo fashion.

The Italian Raro DVD is essential, not only for picture quality (non-anamorphic widescreen with crisp print) but its supplements. There's an interview included with Di Leo (from where his quotes above are taken as are any objective facts here), Al Cliver, and others. Cliver shares some wonderful memories and anecdotes while making I padroni della città. I sometimes put in the DVD and let the menu screen run as Luis Enrique Bacalov's score plays over. It's a minimal and rhythmic score and among one of my favorites from the composer. The DVD includes the English dub which is precious for Palance dubs himself and also includes the Italian audio with English subtitles which is also essential.

Fernando di Leo's Vacanze per un massacro (Madness) (1980)

Mario Gariazzo at Cineproduzioni Daunia 70 directed two films under their banner, Acquasanta Joe (1971) and Il venditore di palloncini (1974). Cineproduzioni Daunia 70 also housed Fernando di Leo who directed several works under their banner including the famous trilogy of Milano calibre 9 (1972), La mala ordina (1972), and Il boss (1973). Di Leo offered advice to Gariazzo on his script for his film La mano spietata della legge (1973) and towards the production of both Acquasanta Joe and Il venditore di palloncini. Their paths were to cross again as Gariazzo had prepared the story for the film Vacanze per un massacro (1980) which he would also direct. At the insistence of the producers, Fernando di Leo replaced Gariazzo as director and is credited also with its screenplay (Gariazzo has a story credit on Vacanze).

Vacanze per un massacro opens with Joe Dallesandro's character escaping from prison. Later, it is revealed that he served five years of his sentence for committing the crime of murder and theft of a sum of three hundred million lira. The money was never found. Immediately after escaping, Dallesandro's character (named Joe Brezy) kills two farmers and steals their car. Off to the countryside and to a small vacation cottage in the mountains. Joe arrives at the cottage and prepares to break in. Married couple, Liliana (Patricia Behn) and Sergio (Gianni Macchia), is from Rome and arrives at the cottage for a weekend getaway. Accompanying the couple is Liliana's younger sister, Paola (Lorraine De Selle). Joe hides in the bushes in wait. The next morning, Sergio goes hunting and Liliana goes shopping. Paola is all alone at the cottage, and Joe takes the opportunity to take control of the cottage and find what he has come for.

Vacanze is perhaps the purest exploitation film from Fernando di Leo. After five years in prison, Dallesandro's Joe didn't learn patience. Although Di Leo attempts to heighten the tension as if his eventual capture is imminent by police with radio reports of his escape and a front-page newspaper story detailing his murder of the two farmers, Di Leo also shows scenes of Joe coolly avoiding the police at a cafe in the beginning and making his way to his destination with little getting in his way. In fact, in an expository dialogue scene in the beginning, Joe asks a local at the side of the road as to whom lives in the cottage. Joe learns before the couple unexpectedly arrives that they are from Rome and are weekend visitors. Joe could wait nearby for the weekend to pass and for the couple to leave. The cottage and surrounding area would all belong to Joe. "There are no thieves, here," says the local on the side of the road. Well, there is now at least one, and there's an exploitation film that needs to play out.Joe seemingly doesn't have a propensity for violence, and when he does become violent, it's as a protective measure to ensure his own survival. However, Di Leo crafts the opening evening events and the events of the following morning in a subtle and provocative way. As Joe sits in wait outside the cottage, he becomes an observer of Paola, Liliana, and Sergio. Paola and Sergio, together and alone by the car, very near in time to the three's arrival, begin to scheme as to when the two will have an opportunity to screw. Later, after night falls, the three have dinner, and Joe watches from a window (with Di Leo's camera directly over his shoulder). Liliana listens as Sergio and Paola playfully bicker and complain about mundane events back in the city (Paola's university studies, it would seem, mean little to her for her future.) As Sergio and Paola play antagonistic brother- and sister-in-law (in an ineffectual manner), Paola takes the opportunity to play footsie with Sergio under the table. Liliana and Sergio retire to the back bedroom after dinner to make love before sleeping, while Paola hears the two's lovemaking. Joe watches from the window as she pleasures herself on the couch. The following morning, Sergio in hunter's garb and rifle in hand, awakens Paola who demands Sergio make time today for sex. Sergio takes the time to go down on Paola right there after she commands him, but she violently pushes him away and laughs in his face. Paola knows she controls Sergio. When Sergio goes outside and does some ridiculous, quasi-Tai chi moves, Joe knows he can control this trio also: Sergio isn't going to use his literal or metaphorical rifle at all; Paola is just a provocateur; and Liliana is clueless. Vacanze takes a turn into the Last House on the Left territory, as terror, humiliation, degradation, and violence ensues. As the typical terror film, of which Wes Craven's Last House on the Left (1972) is representative, middle-class fears are exploited: in all of their economic comfort and created world of self-control, there is an overwhelming fear of the outsider at the fringes of society who is secretly jealous of that comfort and self-control. In the terror film, that outsider does more than terrorize and violate his victims--he completely removes that comfort and created self-control. This idea was obviously an attraction for Di Leo with Vacanze, as the events of the film play out in unexpected way for a terror film. Paola doesn't play victim when confronted by Joe: she's still very much the provocateur: she begins to seduce him as soon as the two have a quiet moment. Joe forces her to work at digging a hole in the fireplace (take a guess as to what's hidden there). After Paola works for quite a while, she demands a break; and Di Leo begins to blur the characters' motives. As she wipes the sweat off of her chest, is she still seducing Joe? or is she genuinely tired? When Joe makes an advance upon Paola, is her pulling away just an ineffectual move? Are Joe's advances an act of violence? Why would he choose now to make a move upon Paola with Liliana and Sergio still outside the cottage with either arrival unknown? Di Leo forces the viewer to answer these disturbing questions (and for the remainder of the film), and the filmed proceedings aren't pretty.Despite Vacanze being Di Leo's purest exploitation film, its attraction lies in watching an immensely talented director apparently slumming with this film. The film appears extremely low-budget: four actors in total drive the narrative. The cottage appears tiny and is sparsely furnished in a very Spartan manner. Humorously, there is a poster of John Travolta on the wall above the couch in the living room. Even Luis Bacalov's score is recycled from another Di Leo flick (although not all of the music is recycled within Vacanze). Dallesandro still has his signature Adonis-like physique yet his youthful, boyish good looks are fading as the Seventies close and he is getting older. Most of the film is shot in harsh light (both the natural exterior and the artificial interior light) and the bruises and blemishes on the actors' skin are not covered with makeup. Everything about Vacanze is stripped down. Enrico Lucidi's cinematography is quite good yet minimal: Di Leo's compositions are an effective mix of hand-held camera, medium shots, and close-ups, increasing the claustrophobic atmosphere. While all of the actors have a limited range in their performances, Di Leo plays to their strengths and charisma, especially Dallesandro. He's effective when menacing and effective when manipulative. Lorraine De Selle appeared in several curious (and often nasty) Italian exploitation films. She always gives enthusiastic and energized performances and doesn't disappoint in Vacanze. What really shines is Di Leo's talent above all, and Vacanze is a true curiosity in his filmography. The above objective facts from the first paragraph come from the English-language liner notes included in the Raro DVD release of Vacanze per un massacro. Within the foldout insert, the same text, presumably, in Italian is on the left side with the English text on the right. The English language text is rather cryptic (as to whether this results from translation or otherwise is unknown). For example, the text reads that "Fernando di Leo 'lent a hand' by offering advice for his script--for his good detective film, The Bloody Hands of the Law (La mano spietata della legge)." I have no idea what "lent a hand" means in this context. Is the liner notes author insinuating that perhaps Di Leo scripted the film or had a larger role than offering advice? or is he making a joke towards the film's title? Also, the English text reads "at the producers' insistence, he (Gariazzo) was finally replaced by di Leo." Armando Novelli is the credited producer on Vacanze according to the film print on the Raro DVD. Interestingly, Gariazzo's two directed films for Daunia and Di Leo's trilogy under their banner, for example, were all produced by Novelli. Novelli, in addition to producing Vacanze, would also produce Gariazzo's Occhi dalle stelle (1978) and his nasty, Play Motel (1979) around the same time. If Novelli is the sole producer, then why write "producers'," insinuating that more than one exists. Is it a typo? Does this mean the film's financiers? Besides whom, the more important question is "why?" The choice of the word "insistence" implies something more intense than the "producers" preferring Di Leo over Gariazzo to direct. What did Di Leo possess that Gariazzo did not which would make him a more suitable director for the film? Finally, the text reads that Di Leo considered Vacanze per un massacro a "minor entry in his filmography," so perhaps all this questioning is for naught. Regardless of any mystery, Vacanze is a curiosity waiting for the unsuspecting.

Fernando Di Leo's Slaughter Hotel (1971)

Under a beautiful purple dark night sky sits the asylum setting of Fernando di Leo's Slaughter Hotel (1971), his sole contribution to the horror/thriller genre, a genre, perhaps, for which Di Leo had little love. Its opening sequence is a signal: a dark caped figure is prowling outside the asylum grounds. The figure gains entrance into the quiet place and eyes an axe to pick up, after playing with the iron maiden which sits in its lobby (I always associate torture devices and weaponry from within the walls of medical facilities). Slowly upstairs, the caped figure ascends to spy beautiful Cheryl (Margaret Lee) in her birthday suit and in total slumber. Cheryl makes an innocuous movement with her hand and signals the nurse. The lights come on and the dark figure gasps and disappears. All sound and fury. Cue credits.

Di Leo intimates (during his interview included on the region one DVD of Shriek Show's release) that inherently the mystery or thriller genre is limited: there are only so many red herrings that one can put to the viewer with a limited number of characters to produce a satisfactory conclusion. The narrative, which Di Leo co-wrote with Nino Latino, soon fades away. Although Slaughter Hotel has numerous titles for its various world releases, perhaps a fitting one would be Sensational Hotel. Aided by his laissez-faire attitude towards the genre, a talented cinematographer with Franco Villa, a wispy and catchy score (also sometimes minimal and haunting) by Silvano Spadaccino, and Klaus Kinski and a bevvy of beautiful actresses, Slaughter Hotel is a melange of atmospheric and effective erotic sequences juxtaposed with equally atmospheric and effective violent sequences.

Di Leo doesn't hide his affection for beauty Rosalba Neri who plays patient Anne. She tells the doctors, "I just want to make love," a desire which earned her a stay at the clinic. Neri's first appearance is memorable: in a revealing black pants suit, Di Leo's camera focuses on Neri's powerful sensuality. In a playful and erotic sequence, Anne goes to the greenhouse to shag the groundskeeper. When two orderlies come hunting for Anne, Di Leo lets Neri go. She sashays out of the greenhouse to encounter the curious orderlies. She falls into the arms of the two, and with feline movements rubs her body and gropes the young men with her arms and kisses. While it would seem the two have been looking quite a while for Anne combined with Anne's lack of reluctance to go with them, the orderlies aren't moving. They'll stay frozen for a minute or two like statues until Neri gets bored with them. Look close and you'll even see a smirk on the face of one of the actors. Neri's confrontation with the killer is also memorable. After a very long voyeuristic sequence of viewing Neri dream while writhing nude upon her bed, the killer enters and Anne begins her seduction. The scene is a combination of flesh and shadows and emotions of arousal and repulsion.

Mara (Jane Garret) is a lonely patient and feels an outsider, with whom Nurse Helen (Monica Strebel) is fascinated (or perhaps fascinated with the idea of Mara). Di Leo films the two's relationship initially as sensitive caretaker bonding with sad and friendless patient, as they sit on the bench outside on the grounds. A kinship is formed, but these ladies will not become sisters. Di Leo films the two in a series of erotic sequences, escalating in sexual tension. In the first, Helen massages a nude Mara, then comes Mara's bubble-bath bathing with Helen's assistance (of course, she removes her nurse's outfit in order to facilitate a better bathing), which ends with the two dancing before inevitably making love. These sequences are all for the benefit of a male audience, and Di Leo doesn't disappoint by delivering the eye candy. As with Neri, Di Leo focuses on these characters almost exclusively in a visual fashion. Strebel has gorgeous big eyes and fiery red hair, while Garret's aloof demeanor and quiet looks provide the simmering sensuality.

Kinski, like the actresses, was chosen by Di Leo's for his "dramatic face," and like the ladies, he's eye candy. Klaus Kinski plays Dr. Francis Clay who has a burgeoning love for Margaret Lee's Cheryl. Kinski's expressionistic face with his piercing eyes and brooding demeanor hides mystery (which Di Leo plays on). Kinski walks the halls and gives some of the most uncomfortable cigarette-smoking sequences (I'm not a gambler but I would bet Kinski is not a smoker). Kinski and Lee display a light romance, straight out of any dime-store paperback.To Di Leo's credit, the compositions of the killer are well shot. In a haunting sequence, the killer is brandishing a sword, and all alone he swings it in a madman's fury before his next frenzied kill (the swings of the sword are accompanied by low-octave notes delivered by Spadaccino's minimal score). In a humorous (yet effective) scene, a nurse passing the grounds at night walks within inches of the killer and does not notice him. A scythe is in the bushes, and as soon as she passes, the killer picks up the scythe to decapitate her. The nurse turns and screams before her death. The scene comes off as the very definition of perfunctory: okay, I'll walk by you and pretend you're not there. Get the nearby weapon, which I also conveniently fail to notice, and kill me.

Despite almost a pure display of cinematic exploitation, Di Leo drops in a little of his trademark socio-political commentary. An early scene of a husband coldly dropping his wife off at the front door of the asylum is effective. A clinic which houses only women patients with seemingly the only rule being "you can't leave" pervades the claustrophobic atmosphere of the film. It is also extremely difficult to discern what actual afflictions these patients have. The doctors are often shown as incompetent and less-than-professional. The police, when they finally show, can talk. That's about it. I own both the Shriek Show (Media Blasters) and Raro releases and recommend both. Facts about the production, I took from Di Leo's interview included on the Shriek Show release.

Fernando di Leo's Loaded Guns (1975)

Nora Green (Ursula Andress) is an English flight attendant who, upon landing in Naples, is asked by an unknown gentleman to deliver a letter for one-hundred dollars. Nora accepts and arrives at an amusement park where she delivers the letter to Silvera (Woody Strode). The contents of the letter are a veiled threat by someone named "The American" who intends to kill Silvera, a local crime boss. Silvera demands to know who gave Nora the letter, and his henchmen give her a nasty pummelling. She's eventually freed by Silvera's men, who begin tailing her to discover the whereabouts of "The American," but Nora collapses on the park grounds from the beating. Young acrobat, Manuel (Marc Porel), scoops up Nora in his arms and takes her to rest at his home. Manuel is curious as to why she was at the amusement park: he takes her to see the police, where she meets Commissario Calogero (Lino Banfi), the bumbling police captain, and beautiful, eccentric Rosy (Isabella Biagini), the possible mistress of rival crime boss Don Calo (Aldo Giuffre). All appearances lead to Nora stumbling into a volatile situation, in between the two biggest crime syndicates in Naples, the police, and "The American," so she decides to play with them...just a little bit.

By 1975, when Loaded Guns was released, Fernando di Leo had already directed several well-respected and "serious" crime pictures: Milano calibro 9 (1972), Manhunt (1972), The Boss (1973), and Shoot First, Die Later (1974). At the risk of alienating the audience which he had built with those films, Di Leo decided to put "serious" films aside and make a more playful and comedic picture, one that he had co-written with Enzo Dell'Acqua over a decade before (when the two were working in Westerns). Di Leo envisioned Loaded Guns as a film like Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars (1964) with a female protagonist who works over and in-between two rival crime families. This female protagonist would act in traditional "masculine" fashion by being sexually uninhibited, arrogant, and forthright while still keeping her traditional "feminine" traits. Di Leo wanted Swiss actress Ursula Andress for the role right from the beginning as his lead. Di Leo's producer, Armando Novelli, was hesitant for Di Leo to helm such a production, as were some of Di Leo's other collaborators, since Di Leo had built such a strong audience for his "serious" pictures. Nevertheless, Loaded Guns was completed and released, and probably more innovative and incendiary at the time of it's release, but it is nonetheless, a truly Di Leo film: playful and socially-critical, sometimes violent, frequently sexual, and of course, always irreverent.

Andress has always possessed a powerful sexuality on screen, and Di Leo does not hinder her in Loaded Guns. Her character, Nora Green, is the key to understanding Di Leo's style within the film. The film introduces some truly ridiculous and slapstick humor, suitable for any light comedy, but virtually unknown within Di Leo's cinema. Luis Bacalov, who frequently scores Di Leo's films, provides a Ragtime-ish score for the film, and it's a perfect accompaniment to the humor. The humor is broad but what is key is that it is almost all provided by the men: often buffoonish or seriously ironic, as the men are revealed as not self-assured and confident, but clueless and manipulated. The slapstick humor truly seems out of place but when the viewer sees the humor in relation Andress's character, it makes sense. For example, the very funny Lino Banfi plays two roles, and they are two examples of how Andress's character is able to operate successfully: Commissario Calogero, who cannot keep his inept police cohorts in line nor get Andress to stand still for a moment and cooperate, and a taxi driver, whose cab Andress frequently and fortuitously hops into. Andress's Green has both wrapped around her finger: the police aren't smart enough to keep up with her, and she can flash her legs and smile at the cab driver, having him melt on command, if she desires. The most subversive humor comes with the gangsters: both crime organizations (Silvera's and Don Calo's), including the police, have henchmen following her all over Naples, but she's not fazed. She instantly recognizes each and tells them where she's going and then gives each a wet kiss on the lips before exiting. Her romantic interest, Porel's Manuel thinks he has scooped up a damsel in distress at the amusement park but gets a true epiphany later, after she gives him good shagging, at gunpoint. It's funny to watch Nora cower in the corner while Manuel (who reveals himself also an ex-boxer) pummels Don Calo's men in a brawl: Manuel's not protecting Nora: she is letting him do all the dirty work. Most of the fights in the film, including a prolonged battle at the end, are full of ridiculous sight gags and gimmicks. Why? Because as Nora shows, and what Di Leo is trying to convey, is that men are controlling idiots, who often need a dose of humility by those we attempt to control.

Di Leo loves to leave the camera on Andress, and while the film is not graphically sexual, Loaded Guns ranges from risque to steamy. It's hilarious to watch Nora sashay out of Manuel's flat and into the elevator completely nude, where she asks the husband of an elderly couple to tie the back of her dress; or in a scene when Tano (Jimmy il Femomeno), the tramp-ish clown who works at Silvera's amusement park, encounters Andress in the bathtub, he immediately drops his pants and tells her his jacket "is not a problem." Nora doesn't bat an eye but suggests a little music before busting him over the head, only to call the bellboys to remove the "clog" in the bathtub. When Andress is sitting on a park bench or in a phone booth, she'll flash her legs from the cut in her skirt: her legs, e.g. her sexuality, are her loaded guns, and she can get what she wants with them. No doubt, this depiction of female sexuality probably rubbed the majority of the male audience the wrong way; and I think that is what Di Leo was going for.

Di Leo is a fierce opponent to conformity. Societal rules for gender roles or any societal rule that is oppressive and determinative, Di Leo shuns. Di Leo is a fierce advocate for freedom. In 1975 also, Di Leo directed and released Kidnap Syndicate, a serious film with overt themes of social criticism (even heavy-handed), unlike the playful Loaded Guns. In 1976, Di Leo would deliver Nick the Sting, which is very similar in tone and comedy to Loaded Guns, also set in the underworld, and Mr. Scarface, a film which I hold as a masterpiece, where Di Leo is able to synthesize his playful and comedic tone with his brooding and serious tone. The end result of Mr. Scarface is true court-jester cinema: biting satire combined with intense genre elements. In 1977, Di Leo would return to "serious" crime cinema with Blood and Diamonds, before helming his most controversial and irreverent film, To Be Twenty, a masterpiece and the culmination of all the themes with which he was working in the 1970s. In some ways, these themes and this style has always been present within Di Leo's cinema, perhaps just muted in most films, but Loaded Guns is the first film, in my opinion, where Di Leo loosens the seriousness and formalities and opens up. As with all of Di Leo's cinema, I enjoy Loaded Guns very much and I have no qualms in saying that I believe Di Leo is one of the best directors of the 1970s, period.

All objective facts about the production history of Loaded Guns are taken from the behind-the-scenes documentary, included on the Italian Raro release of Loaded Guns. Raro has released almost all of Di Leo's canon on dvd, and they are essential purchases for serious film buffs. See it.

Fernando di Leo's The Violent Breed (1984)

"Children, don't be frightened...I'm here to take you home," says CIA operative, Kirk Cooper (Henry Silva). Cooper's leading a secret mission to free some hostage children, smack during the middle of the Vietnam War, along with his operative buddies, Mike Martin (Harrison Muller) and Polo (Woody Strode). Surreptitiously, the crew gets in successfully, rescues the children, and takes out the enemy. Unfortunately, Silva's Cooper takes a bullet in the chest. Mike and Polo stop to do some roadside surgery on Cooper on the way to the rendez-vous. Before exiting, Polo takes Mike and Cooper's rifles and tells them that he's staying in Vietnam. Mike and Cooper split. "Why didn't he kill us?" asks Mike. "That was a mistake," answers Cooper.

Cut to modern times, e.g. 1984, in New York for Fernando di Leo's The Violent Breed (1984), one of the last films from one of the finest Italian directors of his time. The opening war sequence set up a very intriguing story, at least on paper: Silva's Cooper has risen to the top of the CIA, while Strode's Polo has become very successful in Southeast Asia. Polo runs a ring located near the Cambodia/Thailand/Laos borders, where he buys arms from the KGB to sell to Cambodian guerrillas who use the arms against Chinese-trained Vietnamese. Polo takes his profits to buy drugs in Thailand and sells them to the mafia, who distribute the drugs in the US. Muller's Mike is in the middle and is the typical di Leo protagonist: happy-go-lucky by nature but caught in between the exertion of power from both sides (here Cooper and Polo). When the pressure of the powers comes upon him, Mike, in di Leo fashion is going to play a bit: be evasive when confronted, confrontational when it's unexpected, violent and/or loving when necessary, and live life as if it's his last day. So when Silva summons Mike in for a game of handball and shop talk, Mike asks Cooper: so what do you want me to do about Polo? Deliver a message for me, says Cooper.Mike is sleeping with sexy Sharon Morris (Carole André) and doesn't tell her what he does for a living. Sharon's sunbathing when Mike tells her that he's going to be gone for a while, can't tell her where he is going, or when he is coming back. Expectedly mad, Sharon tells Mike that she won't be here when he gets back. Mike flies off to Bangkok to meet with his contact, Madame Fra (Danika La Loggia) of the local whorehouse which supplies Polo's camp with ladies; and isn't Mike surprised when down in the lobby of his hotel, Sharon meets Mike for a beer. Mike's expectedly mad and takes out for his mission. While at the whorehouse, Mike meets a pretty local prostitute and takes a bath. The next morning, on foot and in his jeans and t-shirt, Mike walks to Polo's camp, only to get ambushed and captured. Polo walks in on Mike and asks him as if he's seen him just yesterday, "What are you doing here Mike?" Mike wants to make an offer.

During the 1980s action films with political and social themes were nothing new (e.g. Ted Kotcheff's First Blood (1982) or Joseph Zito's Missing in Action (1984)). Di Leo's cinema is full of his unique socio-political views, not least of all, his total disdain for conformity and authority. Silva's always shown smiling and on the phone and well-dressed, while Polo's always with a machine gun, often in a hurry, and a man of few words: in one scene, a henchman picks up Polo from a business meeting with the Russians en route to meet the captured Mike. In the jeep, Polo spies some locals on the side of the road and the two have this exchange:

Polo: Who are they?

Henchman: Oh, farmers who don't like working in the fields or try to sell their own or just don't produce much.

Polo: Well?

Henchman: They're supposed to be shot.

Polo: What are you waiting for?

Henchman: Your order.

Strode's Polo stands from the passenger seat of the jeep and guns down the locals. It's a defining scene for his character, but you can also get the sense of how di Leo views those in power (also it's a two to three shot take showing di Leo's mastery of a low budget). Mike, with his murder eminent by Polo and/or the Russians, asks for a beer, preferably a cold one. He also asks Polo, unequivocally and sincerely, you want to untie me? Mike doesn't question Polo or Cooper's motive: they're two sides of power of the same coin. Mike's really like everyone else just caught in the middle of the two's struggle and it's typically meaningless to try to win. The offer that Mike wants to make is unknown as to whether its genuine. Even if the offer's genuine, it probably is not going to matter. Mike's acceptance and/or rejection of his role in this power struggle can be seen by the viewer in the film's final scene.

Not only did the 1980s bring socially- and politically-minded action films, the cinema also did and was expected to, bring the action sequences. The bigger the better the explosions and more bullets, the merrier. The Violent Breed falls short in this area and is probably why it is one of the least regarded in di Leo's canon. Save the opening rescue sequence, where the characters are wearing the local threads from the army surplus store and playing soldiers, a brief martial arts exhibition by Mike on some unexpected guests outside his Bangkok hotel room, and the final sequence, where Mike takes on Polo and company, the action sequences lack the money for the big explosions. The action of The Violent Breed can't quite compare to its Italian or American contemporaries.Silva and Strode are reunited from their earlier di Leo collaboration, Manhunt (1972), where they played a pair of nasty hitmen. Muller and Strode made two films together in 1984, this one and one of the better films to come out of the Italian post-apocalyptic wasteland, Romolo Guerrieri's The Final Executioner. The Violent Breed is only for the diehard di Leo fans.