Showing posts with label Fabio Testi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fabio Testi. Show all posts

Thursday, April 16, 2026

Only now does it occur to me... THE BIG RACKET (1976)

Only now does it occur to me... that it's been way too long since I've watched an Enzo G. Castellari film. It's a certain, unique strand of plagiaristic Italo-madness inflected with the pure joy of visual storytelling, á la Sam Raimi or Richard Rush. About fifteen years ago, I first watched a spate of his classicks: 1990: BRONX WARRIORS, THE LAST SHARK, THE HEROIN BUSTERS, KEOMA, TUAREG: THE DESERT WARRIOR, INGLORIOUS BASTARDS, et al., a series of films which rip off and then reinvent everything from JAWS to THE WARRIORS to LAWRENCE OF ARABIA to THE DIRTY DOZEN.

After all these years, I finally took a stab at THE BIG RACKET, which is a reinvention of the original DEATH WISH with enough Roman derangement so as to prophesy the swirly-eyed Cannon Films sequels.

The plot is thus: a gang full of models and character actors destroy bowling shirts and flowers with ball bats. This represents Italian crime in the 1970s.

 

What do they want? Protection money from local business owners.



They're part of a huge operation that goes all the way to the top––a smarmy mobster played by Joshua Sinclair's "Rudy." (He's a member of Castellari's acting troupe who almost always plays a gleefully pompous baddie, and––no joke––he's also a medical doctor and expert in tropical diseases who worked with Mother Teresa.)

But there's one man who will not allow this to happen. A likable man who wears a lot of denim and looks disapprovingly upon property destruction


and spilt sugar.

That's right, it's one tuff cop played by the one and only Fabio Testi. I've referred to him in the past as "Italo-Rock Hudson" and "Eurotrash Hugh Jackman." When he fires his weapon in top-to-bottom, skintight, cinched denim, you had best believe that he's doing a back-strengthening Superman extension as he does it. That's just standard Testi operating procedure.

Most of this movie is glass being broken in slow motion or Peckinpah-style bullet ballet featuring folks in close-fitting bell bottoms set to the wacka wacka beats of De Angelis, basically a nonstop bassline cribbed from In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida and some random psychedelic guitar tinkering. Or else it's criminal organizations meeting up and sitting around and flashing their eyes at each other and posing while jazz drum solos riff unto infinity (just like in 1990: BRONX WARRIORS). There's a fair amount of ickiness, too, like the comically fascist pro-police agenda and "fridging" tropes and multiple gang rapes, which mainly seem to be in here because Castellari genuinely believes he is making a contribution to the same contemporary ultraviolent subgenre as A CLOCKWORK ORANGE, DELIVERANCE, STRAW DOGS, DIRTY HARRY, and DEATH WISH. In fact, he's making a live action cartoon with some of the best-worst dialogue in his entire canon.

"Holy jumpin' jackrabbits, somebody took a strong dislike to the decor in here!"

 


 "Well look at that, we've got a plainclothes peeping pig in our window!"


"There we were having a couple of quiet beers and these guys arrive and just start beating the bean bags out of us!"

 



"I think I better warn you, if I find one bedbug, you will see me for dust."


"We can't offer them protection 24 hours out of 24."

There's excessive use of the word "diddly." Sometimes it's used to mean "diddly shit/squat," and sometimes the uses are, shall we say, even more imaginative.

"Yeah, you're right, but, uh, but if they cooperate with us, they'll be up diddly creek."


"Pull yourself together before you drop us both into the diddly."

–"If we're gonna get into the diddly, I'm gonna make sure it's because we really earned the right to be in it."


There are moments of the sublime, like when a gang member is pouring kerosene on a small restauranteur's dining room and says, flatly,

"Pity we ain't got some chestnuts to put on this."


"Ya mucker" is a common insult in the world of THE BIG RACKET, and sometimes gang members make spirited and hilariously weird commentary on the beatings they're administering:

"Ah sure, a sizzling face stinger... topped off with a rear-over-headlight turnover!"


All of this is too much for Good Cop Pushed Too Far™ Fabio Testi, who must break the law in order to enforce it.

"Criminal methods, in this case, were necessary. I know my methods are, let's say, somewhat illegal, but if the results are right, don't they justify the means?"

Because Castellari loves a "men on a mission" movie more than anything else, a now suspended-from-the-force Testi recruits a band of avengers to take out the mob, PUNISHER style. He enlists a thief-buddy (Vincent Gardenia––two-time Oscar nominee, DEATH WISH and MOONSTRUCK cast member, and "Mushnik" in LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS)

and other roughnecks to join his "let's say, somewhat illegal" crusade. Along the way, there are darkly comic and socially dangerous vigilante fantasies, like an Olympic skeet shooter being present (by happenstance!) when hero cops are pinned down by a literal army of mobsters. He proceeds to take out half the army while never being mistaken by the cops as a gang member. Holy jumpin' jackrabbits.

Anyway, the film's politics (described by Morando Morandini in Il Giorno as "a fascist film, a vile film, an idiot film"––and he's not wrong!) somehow can't fully drop this film "into the diddly," so to speak, and distract from its glorious, era-defining kitsch and denim-related achievements.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Film Review: REVOLVER (1973, Sergio Sollima)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 111 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Oliver Reed, Fabio Testi, Frédéric de Pasquale (THE FRENCH CONNECTION), Peter Berling (THE NAME OF THE ROSE, AGUIRRE THE WRATH OF GOD). Music by Ennio Morricone.
Tag-line: "The last battle between crime and the law in every major city in the world."
Best one-liner: "I'll find you, even if I have to shake the whole fuckin' countryside out like a fuckin' sock!"

I'm a sucker for Eurocrime, and REVOLVER, a French-Italian co-production directed by Sergio Sollima (THE BIG GUNDOWN, VIOLENT CITY, RUN MAN RUN) combines the cool, glossy visuals and fatalism of Melville with the batshit crazy panache of Castellari. Oliver Reed is a prison warden who's coerced (via his kidnapped wife) to release loner inmate Fabio Testi.
There's hippie pop stars, international conspiracies, class warfare, and lots of tight, tight pants.

Reed, one of my all-time favorites, is, unfortunately, dubbed. You'll be missing out his thundering, expressive voice- but enough of the performance is grounded in his husky, raging, walrus-like physicality that you won't feel cheated.

The Italians love reaction shots, and reaction shots love Oliver Reed. The man was made to deliver a stern, simmering stare.


Thugs have got his wife, and he is one angry man. He lets you know- like Paula Abdul, straight up- that he's only a hair's breadth away from slapping the shit out of you at any given moment.

He will yank around a naked fat man by the hair if he has to.


MAN FIGHT!

...

The voice on the trailer tells us that this movie is so brutal that it'll "make Charles Bronson in DEATH WISH look like wishful thinking!" While I wouldn't quite go that far, I will say there's probably more slapping per capita than any comparable film.

"No!"

YAHHHH

There are a lot of great sucker punches, too.

As the released prisoner, Testi is quite the hardass.

His main character trait seems to be his ability to drop a cigarette from a great height and having it land standing on its end.


Not certain how useful that is, but I guess it's impressive, sure. He wears a lot of whacky fur coats and at one point offhandedly bites a snowball like it's an apple.

Improv!

Not exactly like Brando playing with the glove in ON THE WATERFRONT, but hey, at least he's making acting choices. Most of this could make for an unbearable performance, but Testi possesses an innate, loopy likability

Hey-a!

which is the perfect foil to Reed's relentlessly severe countenance. When they become buddies, your living room will likely be graced with a standing ovation.

Fabio: so needy. Oliver: 'I get my gin back after this take, right?'

There's loads of great lines that sound kiiind of like something you might say in English, but they're subtly Italian-ized: "We're like sitting ducks... at a shooting gallery!," "Why you bloody little piece of horseshiiiit!," or "I swear to God unless you start talkin', I'm gonna see the color of your guts!"

"I'll do it! I'll kill myself!"


"Are you Japanese, boy? Let me tell you something. Only the Japanese know how to use a knife on themselves properly. Only the Japanese."

But it's not all fun and games– the Ennio Morricone score is absolutely masterful, darkly suspenseful, and occasionally emotional (rumbling, dissonant pianos; zesty percussion; and frequent, tasteful quoting of "Für Elise"); and the blunt, ruthless finale is as disquieting as it is abrupt. So here- before you start shakin' the fuckin' countryside out like a fuckin' sock– take these four stars.

-Sean Gill

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Film Review: THE HEROIN BUSTERS (1977, Enzo G. Castellari)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 132 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Music by Goblin. Starring Fabio Testi, David Hemmings, Joshua Sinclair.
Tag-lines: "FABIO TESTI."
Best one-liner: See review.

"I'm gonna put a bullet in your assshole!" Yeah, you are. Enzo Castellari strikes again with bad dubbing; idioms that don't exist in English ("It's like having fleas- but these fleas BITE!"); head-scratching plot twists; and tight, TIGHT jeans. You know, I've not yet seen a Castellari film that I was disappointed with. Each time I go in with the expectation of purely ironic thrills (which I certainly get), but end up leaving with a mostly sincere appreciation of what I've just seen. He may use a laughable amount of reaction shots, have unexplained lesbian dream sequences, and frame a lot of shots with asscrack in the foreground, but damned if he isn't a good filmmaker. His action scenes have a certain 'poor man's Peckinpah' intensity to them, and he manages to capture the 'Howard Hawks via John Carpenter' dynamic of buddy-bonding (usually peppered with spit-take inducing homoerotic undertones).

But anyway, on to THE HEROIN BUSTERS: we have the awesome David Hemmings (BLOW-UP, DEEP RED) as a likable, baby-faced Interpol agent who is always smacking the shit out of people and swearing,

Hemmings shows Testi who's the boss. Note the map in the background: "Ah yes there are drugs in these cities. And if you connect them with yarn, it looks something like THIS."

Fabio Testi (the 1970's Italian Hugh Jackman) wearing a tight denim outfit tucked into boots and held together by a red cloth which I guess is a belt, fantastic stuntwork, and a 'Battle of the Cessnas' finale.

Fabio Testi walks into a room and people just start getting intimidated.


"Next time bring your daddies." Note the makeshift belt.

This movie is epic. There's a montage of the drug trade in 5 international cities in just 5 minutes.

Hi-tech crime-busting equipment of incredible sophistication.

And it's all set to the rockin' "Italo Disco meets Led Zeppelin" riffs of GOBLIN. And when this movie's in doubt, it shows one of two things: thugs punching or junkies shooting up. Somebody does some smack. Who is this person? It doesn't matter, cause six dudes just busted in and are whaling on him.

Who are they? It doesn't matter, cause now we're in a different city where the same thing is happening, but to a new guitar riff. Yeah. That's what this movie is all about. Four stars. Keep 'em in that secret boot-heel panel where you hide all your best H.

-Sean Gill