Surrealist Augury

If French films have a flair for love, the Italian cinema has a zest for decadence. Most major Italian directors have their own highly personal vision of spiritual and psychological deterioration, whether it be as flamboyant as Fellini's, as operatic as Visconti's or as brooding as Antonioni's. Now Salvatore Samperi, 25, continues the tradition with Grazie Zia, a bit of caustic surrealism that dazzles with the energy of youth while it is disappointing with excesses of inexperience.

Charge on Wheels. Samperi's protagonist is a lunatic adolescent named Alvise (Lou Castel), who spends most of his time scooting about in a motorized wheelchair. Alvise, the doctors tell his father, shows no positive physical symptoms. Still, his parents airily dismiss the suggestion that the paralysis could be psychosomatic and leave on a business trip, entrusting Alvise to the care of his Aunt Lea (Lisa Gastoni). Zia Lea, a lithe beauty with raven hair and a creamy complexion, is vaguely dissatisfied with her lover of 15 years (Gabriele Ferzetti) and begins to take a more than consanguine interest in her antic charge on wheels.

Alvise, aware of Lea's fascination, mocks her with feigned madness and vague promises until she rejects her lover, resigns her position as a doctor at a large hospital and finally renounces all her dignity. Lea becomes "It" in a series of progressively debasing games devised by Alvise. She searches frantically for a hidden ring, plays the roles of comic-book characters and chases Alvise blindfolded as he forces her to tumble into a cesspool. "You know I'll never make love to you," Alvise taunts her, but Lea's passion is so great that her nephew seduces her into the ultimate game--Mercy Killing. She cleans and grooms him carefully, knots his tie and, as Alvise watches smilingly, injects him with a fatal dose of poison. As his body lies slumped in the wheelchair, Lea walks slowly up the stairs to her bedroom and sits in front of her dressing table, applying eye shadow.

Feeling for Movement. Like most young directors, Samperi owes much to others. Alvise's energetic forays in his wheelchair are photographed in a manner heavily reminiscent of Robert Aldrich's What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? Like Roman Polanski, Samperi likes to use objects as characters (a necktie, a rifle, a vase), and his consuming interest in role playing and destruction through domination is almost pure Pinter. Unlike Pinter, however, Samperi fails to draw his characters in full proportion. Even if the viewer can accept Alvise's sadistic madness, he can never be sure just what it is in Lea that drives her so insanely to her nephew.

First films hold a special fascination, however, and Grazie is a handsome accomplishment as an augury of things to come from Samperi. Although he dwells too long on Signora Gastoni's admirable legs and thighs, Samperi generally demonstrates a knowledge and feeling for camera movement that is far beyond his years. Even more important, he has attacked his subject with energy and wit--qualities that, throughout most of Grazie Zia, the viewer can easily appreciate.

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