Among the intense preoccupations of the neo-realist boys in Italy are the animalistic aspects of the elemental urge. How lust can dehumanize people and drive them to rash and violent deeds is a subject of fierce fascination with the washline-and-undershirt school. Such is the sordid contemplation that is ravenously pursued in the Italian film, "La Lupa" ("The She Wolf").
Here, in a raw village setting that is powdered with the dust of the hot south and peopled with the blunt and earthy peasants that are legion in these fierce Italian films, Alberto Lattuada has projected a passionate and turbulent tale of a strange woman's utter ruination because of her hunger for men.
His heroine is a dark and brawny slattern who skulks about the town, drawing dirty remarks from the females and brazen suggestions from the males. In her attitude, it is evident that she holds her neighbors in contempt and maintains herself and her pretty daughter through the attraction she has for the local boss.
So it goes until there comes along a soldier, who, while willing to take her lustful love, finds himself so beguiled by the daugh-ter that he marries the girl and settles down. This is repulsive to mama, who bides her time until a baby is born, then she moves in and once again seduces her now somewhat restless son-in-law. Obviously, this upsets the daughter, and things are in a most disordered state, when mama finally surrenders to the porcine tobacco tycoon. Out of this comes vengeance and violence among the workers in the boss' factory, and the show ends with mama being burned up in a fire in the factory.
This wild tale of lust and retribution has been freely adapted from an old story by Giovanni Verga about the hot-blooded folks of Sicily. And Signor Lattuada has staged it in stark realistic style so that heat seems to rise from the stone streets and sweat pops from human pores. In the frequent encounters among the actors, clothing becomes undone and flesh is revealed in much abundance. So is blood and tears.
But the impact of this sort of drama invariably depends upon the essential and elusive credibility of the rugged performers in their roles. And it is in this critical area that "La Lupa" eventually falls down. Kerima, the big and swarthy actress who made her movie debut in "Outcast of the Islands", stalks through the role of the "she wolf" with her jaw set and eyes aflame, but the depth and extent of her passion is measured mostly by the amount of flesh she shows. Hers is a labeled characterization. You have to take her for what it says she is.
As the soldier who starts the family ruckus, Ettore Manni is a sturdy, handsome boy, with hair on his chest and bulging bicepsthings that the neo-realists love. But he, too, delivers a performance in a two-dimensional frame. And as the pure and innocent daughter, May Britt musters such a virginal air and a look of such absolute sweetness that she doesn't seem logical or real. However, Mario Passante is not only real but quite corrupt and wickedly unwholesome as the fat tobacco-factory boss.
In all this sordid demonstration, nothing novel or instructive is revealed. It is just a matter of showing a scandalous woman in a terrible rut. And that is done by Signor Lattuada, roundly, with few holds barred.
Here, in a raw village setting that is powdered with the dust of the hot south and peopled with the blunt and earthy peasants that are legion in these fierce Italian films, Alberto Lattuada has projected a passionate and turbulent tale of a strange woman's utter ruination because of her hunger for men.
His heroine is a dark and brawny slattern who skulks about the town, drawing dirty remarks from the females and brazen suggestions from the males. In her attitude, it is evident that she holds her neighbors in contempt and maintains herself and her pretty daughter through the attraction she has for the local boss.
So it goes until there comes along a soldier, who, while willing to take her lustful love, finds himself so beguiled by the daugh-ter that he marries the girl and settles down. This is repulsive to mama, who bides her time until a baby is born, then she moves in and once again seduces her now somewhat restless son-in-law. Obviously, this upsets the daughter, and things are in a most disordered state, when mama finally surrenders to the porcine tobacco tycoon. Out of this comes vengeance and violence among the workers in the boss' factory, and the show ends with mama being burned up in a fire in the factory.
This wild tale of lust and retribution has been freely adapted from an old story by Giovanni Verga about the hot-blooded folks of Sicily. And Signor Lattuada has staged it in stark realistic style so that heat seems to rise from the stone streets and sweat pops from human pores. In the frequent encounters among the actors, clothing becomes undone and flesh is revealed in much abundance. So is blood and tears.
But the impact of this sort of drama invariably depends upon the essential and elusive credibility of the rugged performers in their roles. And it is in this critical area that "La Lupa" eventually falls down. Kerima, the big and swarthy actress who made her movie debut in "Outcast of the Islands", stalks through the role of the "she wolf" with her jaw set and eyes aflame, but the depth and extent of her passion is measured mostly by the amount of flesh she shows. Hers is a labeled characterization. You have to take her for what it says she is.
As the soldier who starts the family ruckus, Ettore Manni is a sturdy, handsome boy, with hair on his chest and bulging bicepsthings that the neo-realists love. But he, too, delivers a performance in a two-dimensional frame. And as the pure and innocent daughter, May Britt musters such a virginal air and a look of such absolute sweetness that she doesn't seem logical or real. However, Mario Passante is not only real but quite corrupt and wickedly unwholesome as the fat tobacco-factory boss.
In all this sordid demonstration, nothing novel or instructive is revealed. It is just a matter of showing a scandalous woman in a terrible rut. And that is done by Signor Lattuada, roundly, with few holds barred.