Providing a straightforward review’ of a Pier Paolo Pasolini film is a bit of a tall order; his films are densely allegorical and politically symbolic stream-of-consciousness fables that are entirely open to interpretation, so one person’s understanding or enjoyment of them probably isn’t going to correspond to or affect another persons’.
Hawks and Sparrows, released in 1966, is a somewhat incongruous comic outing for Pasolini, but although it contains moments of madcap merriment and even some slapstick it’s not a comedy in the traditional sense; don’t expect to be laughing out loud on a regular basis. The humour comes from the sly dialogue, especially from the talking raven (voiced by Francesco Leonetti) who delivers social commentary as he guides legendary Italian comedy star Toto and his fictional son Ninetto (Pasolini regular Ninetto Davoli) on a picaresque journey through poor Italian neighbourhoods and lush countryside and through various surreal encounters including one inexplicable episode where they become 13th Century Franciscan friars.
As with most Pasolini movies there’s a sense of organised chaos to proceedings and even when what you’re seeing and hearing seems to make no sense at all, there is the unmistakeable feeling that it has been put together with surgical precision by a man who knows exactly what it means. And when you feel like most of the symbolism and allegory are probably flying over your head it still looks and feels fantastically interesting.
Add to that Ennio Morricone’s effortlessly cool, 60s-pop inspired score, including the inspired opening credits, which are sung in a humorously operatic fashion by Domenico Modungo, and it all adds up into a beautiful piece of neo-realist surrealism that perfectly captures the time and place in which it was made. This haunting atmosphere is enhanced by everything from the unreconstructed squalid neighbourhoods in which the film was shot to the extras and bit-part players clearly made up of local non-professional actors, many of whom look bemused or uncomfortable in front of the camera.
This is a pristine new transfer of the film for the Masters of Cinema series and the DVD also contains newly translated subtitles. Sadly the only extra features are the original Italian theatrical trailer, which actually contains footage not seen in the film. A symbolism cracking commentary from a film historian or Pasolini expert would have been a welcome addition.
Overall Verdict: A visually dense, lyrical, absurd and funny exploration, as well as a sly attack on 1960s Italian politics and religion, and the fractious relationship between the two, from one of cinema’s truly important and significant voices.
Special Features:
Original Italian theatrical trailer
Reviewer: Adam Pidgeon