Dillinger Is Dead (1969)

Best movie of this year hands down!

Good , But It Is Overrated By Some

The movie's neither hopeful in contrived ways, nor hopeless in different contrived ways. Somehow it manages to be wonderful

Easily the biggest piece of Right wing non sense propaganda I ever saw.

A well-off industrial designer, Glauco, comes back home and sees his wife who allegedly has a headache and rests in bed. She leaves him a cold dinner, lest Glauco should feel hungry. Nevertheless, Glauco chooses to prepare the meal on his own. While cooking, he discloses a gun wrapped in a newspaper which recounts events regarding a famous mobster Dillinger's demise… Whilst reading this paragraph, one is likely to scratch his head and reassure this is what the movie is genuinely about. This is no mistake – Dillinger is Dead is precisely a product of its time. A bold, weird and mesmerizingly original film which has more in common with existentialism and fantasy than Dillinger himself. The concept of merging reality with surrealism and transmuting it into an artistic manifestation is indubitably exquisite. Straightforwardly speaking, the story by Ferreri is an infant of sheer uniqueness and it stimulates one's senses. Despite the fact that the whole motion picture is virtually filmed solely in Glauco's apartment, Ferreri aptly lunges the plot and it consequently never drags or feels rushed. The characters existent in the flick sporadically encounter one another and the action generally revolves around Glauco. Neither does one get to know his past, nor his views on the outer world. Yet, his mental state is absolutely precise and visible inasmuch his soul is diaphanous owing to Ferreri's fantastic mise-en-scène which visualises Glauco's existential ennui by exposing his disparate acts in his home which serve totally nothing. The protagonist seems nearly a phantom creeping through ensuing chambers of his apartment. He desperately endeavours to do something, satisfy himself anyhow, still he is at a loss for options. His behaviour perpetuated on the celluloid consists of most probably his everyday activities. This enchantingly articulates the meaninglessness and pointlessness of his life. What is new in his life is the weapon wrapped in the mysterious newspaper which inscrutably appears in his apartment. Once he finds the gun, he gradually embarks on altering his life and this is the onset of his transformation which leads to the abrupt and outré denouement.Mario Vulpiani's cinematography captures the infertility of Glauco's actions in an eye-pleasing manner and it's occasionally ravishing and co-operates with the soundtrack by Teo Usuelli duly. The performance by Michel Piccoli is very good, resembling his appearances in Bunuel movies in which he plays analogous roles. His minimalistic attitude is very appropriate and renders the character plausible.While portraying existential ennui wasn't something ground-breaking and refreshing in 1969, what strikes in case of Dillinger is Dead is Ferreri's atypical execution of the material. Apart from being structurally quite precisely delineated and recounted, it's far from being a film reminiscent of Edward Munch's painting The Scream or Antonioni flicks. What one might behold here is a huge irony, enormous portions of dark humour and hilarious wickedness. Given that Ferreri was a leftist, it may be analysed as criticism of bourgeois class – filled with money, yet incapable of spending it on laudable aims or developing their interests since there are not such for them. Hence, the movie works well as a wicked depiction of pointlessness of human in modern society as well as a political and satirical manifesto. No matter how sophisticatedly one approaches Dillinger is Dead, it is a highly riveting piece of cinematographic extravaganza which ought to appeal to those seeking for something else and lovers of the sixties or art-house cinema, whereas all others should make allowances for the possibility that this slow-paced, somewhat plot less quirk might be emotionally insufficient and boring as well as possibly exasperating for some.

This is one for the Accatone set, those pseuds petrified in the Nouvelle Vague who haunt the movie theatre just off Boul' Mich sharing eternal spliffs and wondering why no one does Jump Cuts anymore. Michel Piccoli - alone on screen for over half the running time - does nothing all at once. Piccoli, who once starred in a REAL movie called The Things Of Life, contemplates the things of life on a conveyor belt that has been looped so we get the same things over and over but probably a centimetre away from where they were first second and third time around. For no apparent reason other than to make some sort of left-handed sense of the title, whilst rummaging in a closet he stumbles across a package that when untied turns out to be a gun wrapped in a newspaper that carries an account of John Herbert Dillinger, famously arrested in a movie theatre in Chicago. Piccoli strips the gun, oils and cleans it, reassembles it and shoots his sleeping wife. Why? Why not. It's THAT kind of movie. Having done so he goes for a swim, as you do, climbs on board a private yacht where they are just burying the cook at sea. Spotting a vacancy he puts himself forward for the job, is given a trial, no questions asked and sails away. Arrested development Godard fans will LOVE this one whilst those who like REAL movies will give it a wide berth.

Ferreri is one of the most important filmmakers, of the greatful decade like 60 in italy. Like Fellini or Pasolini, the director turn the movie in a dreamly journey to the fears and fantasies of the audience. The initial trip, when Piccoli drive a car, and the transformation of guns in art objects are very disquieting. An subversive idea. But, the most amazing is the influence of an old newspaper (the title is: Dillinger is dead)in the attitude of the protagonist. Phoenomenon similar to Lynch's inexplicable possessions. The first step for being seduced by Ferreri´s images.

Coming home, while his wife sleeps, an engineer-designer prepares a rich dinner. He finds an old gun, lubricates it with oliva oil, casts films with a projector, slips in his maid bed, eliminates his wife shooting her with the gun, and finally he embarks on a sailing ship as a cook. Probably the best Ferreri's movie. In the appearances of an exercise of experimental style (for three quarters of its duration M. Piccoli is alone in front of the camera) it is a nocturne happening about the neurosis and the horror of the daily life. Abstract and, at the same time, very concrete. The abstraction is picked in the same heart of the daily life, permeates every action, coves, is incorporated in the structure of the character. Must see!