This
is yet another film in a long line of sceneggiate,
a very specific genre of films that proliferated in Neapolitan cinemas
throughout the late ‘70s and early ‘80s.
Like his earlier sceneggiate efforts, CARCERATO (1981) once again features all the required elements
of amore, onore and vendetta as
well as the vocal talents of signor
Merola. However, if you’re not
Neapolitan and not weaned of this sort of entertainment, this effort in
particular is also lacking a single shred of genuine excitement.
Merola
stars as Francesco Improta, a law-abiding citizen that runs a mobile vegetable
market who, at one point or another, may have had some mob ties (talk about
‘art’ imitating life). As he and his son
stroll through postcard-pretty Napoli, it isn’t long before he begins to sing,
which turns out to be one of four songs he performs in the film. Naturally, some ensuing tragedy must get our
story moving and, this time around, his Mama’s (Regina Bianchi) health begins
to wane so he tries to get help from the local underworld figurehead Don
Giuseppe Ascalone (Aldo Giuffrè). When
the reprehensible Nicola Esposito (the great Biagio Pelligra) murders Ascalone
in cold blood, Francesco is accidentally caught at the scene of the crime and
wrongfully carcerato. Like most of these films, some convenient
contrivances help propel the story forward, which in this case results in the
imprisonment of Nicola in the very same prison leading to the inevitable climax. Unfortunately, vengeance comes neither piping
hot nor even ice cold, but merely as dull as dishwater.
Set inside some rundown Neapolitan prison (an
authentic looking location which had evidently been derelict for years, judging
by how overgrown with weeds the place is), CARCERATO unfolds with the same
lugubrious pace of serving a triple life-sentence without the possibility of
parole. Perhaps there are some
compelling subtleties hidden in the original Italian dialogue, but I somehow
doubt it. As mentioned earlier, Merola
contributes four songs which are all performed with typically over-the-top
theatrics, which to be honest, is what attracted most local viewers to this
type of film anyways. One of the more
memorably hokey numbers involves our hero placed in solitary and, lucky for us,
he starts to sing about his unfortunate plight.
In an almost embarrassingly tacky moment, his singing is echoed
throughout the prison as many prisoners even shed a tear for him. As if any of these hard-nosed convicts would
be that easily swayed by Merola’s mournful lyrics! After escaping during a mock play staged by
the other cons – including some token cross-dressing courtesy of Brescia
regular Lucio Montanaro – Francesco manages to make it back home just in time
to attend his cutesy daughter’s first communion. He strolls into the church singing the
climactic number as everyone gathers around in astonishment. As you can probably guess, it all ends
happily ever after as Francesco is given an official reprieve and the film
freezes over him and his sniveling kids.
Like most of Brescia’s sceneggiate efforts, CARCERATO was produced on a very
meager budget (even for Brescia) and was basically a showcase for Merola’s
increased popularity, but as evidenced in this film and, later throughout the
‘80s, many of Merola’s subsequent roles such as Stelvio Massi’s threadbare
GUAPPARIA (1983) and TORNA (1984) were venturing further
and further away from his earlier polizieschi
potboilers despite the Neapolitan underworld still serving as backdrop. Although supported by a decent cast, this is
Merola’s show all the way while much of the recognizable Eurotrash veterans have
limited screen time, which amounts to nothing more than extended cameos. The talented Aldo Giuffrè is killed-off
almost immediately while Erika Blanc, as his wife Lucia, is given nothing to do
except bawl about Francesco’s unfortunate predicament. Character actor Giorgio Ardisson also shows
up at the tail end of the film as the obligatory commissario who has a couple of brief but mindless lines, but it’s
Biagio Pelligra (who was so believable in Umberto Lenzi’s FROM CORLEONE TO BROOKLYN [1979], which also starred Merola) as the
token scumbag who is easily the most engaging aspect of the entire film. He definitely adds some much needed life into
the proceedings, but his limited screen time can’t save this typically clichéd
and impoverished production.
-Dennis Capicik with additional comments from Steve Fenton.
A table of assorted "stuff" (note the framed photo of Merola) at a small flea market on Via Pellegrini outside the Montesanto funicular station in Naples. |
At the Castel dell' Ovo in the Gulf of Naples as seen in many a Mario Merola flick. |
"Unfortunately, vengeance comes neither piping hot nor even ice cold, but merely as dull as dishwater."
ReplyDeleteDamn! Good line. Wish I'd thought of that one!