CRITERION: Marco Bellocchio's "Fists in the Pocket"

For a few minutes, it looks like Marco Bellochio's "Fists in the Pocket" might be about Augusto, (Marino Mase), handsome and assured and in control of his female conquests. (If this was Fellini, a young Mastroianni could have slid into the role.) Then we learn that Augusto's seductive powers extend to his beautiful, playful sister Giulia (Paola Pitagora), and not soon after that things slide into focus: It's the younger brother, Alessandro (Lou Castel), we must watch out for, as goes into fits which might come from epilepsy or from sheer incestuous desire. "Ale" wants Giulia too, nozzles her neck, writes her love letters while she mocks and torments him and, in ocassion, satisfies him. She's not a bad sister after all.

See, Augusto represents the hypocrisy of comformity and ties and professional success; he's dishonestly proper in his courtship of a town beauty whom he will marry with priestly approval; he'll keep his mistresses and his prostitutes entirely hush hush, as befits a proper member of society.
Marco Bellochio hates Augusto and, worse, finds him boring. It's Alessandro's alternative repressions and outbursts he chronicles. Lou Castel is a prolific actor who never really upstaged his role here: in 1965 he sort of resembled a cross between Matt Damon, Neil Patrick Harris and Marlon Brando, and he's captivating. His Alessandro is a child at play, and a tormented rebel, or all-out bonkers depending on whether this is an odd minute or an even minute. His whole body seems like the angry fists on the title, ready to slink into a corner pocket or spring into violent action.
The violent action comes in the form of matricide- after "Ale" realizes that getting rid of his blind charge of a mother will surely help the family financially. Isn't that how one becomes a man? Tough financial decisions? Things get a little better for a while, Augusto approves, Giulia is more generous in her sisterly games, but soon enough Ale realizes they're not quite free yet: there is an even younger, mentally challenged brother gravitating around the sin twins. It's time for Alessandro to once more suck it up for the greater cause, and commit fratricide. That way leads to freedom.

All this is equal parts shocking, cross-yourself-blasphemous, saddenning, and darkly satiric. No one would call Alessandro sympathetic, but somehow he becomes a sort of hero in his honest madness: maybe simply because, bonkers or not, he's more honest than those around him.

(Ennio Morricone's soundtrack is quite on the same vein as the one for "La Dolce Vita"- cha-cha-chas and all. Yes, of course the soundtrack is by Morricone. This is an Italian movie. Duh.)