Well-received adaptation of Jack London’s semi-autobiographical novel (better known in Europe than here), something of a cautionary tale on the risks of self-improvement, is rare this year in being as good as advertized. Co-written by director Pietro Marcello and Maurizio Braucci (note writing gets top-billed in the final credits), it’s loosely updated to the ‘50s, though time can feel untethered, better to reflect the texture of a 1909 novel. A Bildungsroman on the intellectual development of a noble savage, a sailor whose thirst for justice & knowledge take him into society and have him catching literary fever. Vowing to write up to his potential without compromise, he has much to absorb & many to meet along the way. Lovers from different stations in life; the leftist world of union politics; at louche soirées and in shared second-class train cabins. Moving so fast, he but half understands when he’s moved past them. And with new-found success, lashing out in violence and hurtful self-interest, unable to clearly see how his position has changed. Superbly imagined both structurally & as physical production (Luchino Visconti couldn’t have been more meticulous and wouldn’t have been as technically adventurous*), the film ultimately proves its worth thru its leading actor, an amazingly tactile hunk of fleshly breadth in an assumption by Luca Marinelli. Such a hot, magnificent beast of a fellow hasn’t been seen since the glory days of Jean-Paul Belmondo.
ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Imaginatively captured on Super 16mm by Alessandro Abate & Francesco Di Giacomo approximating the look of many different film stocks in grain and color density as well as effectively incorporating some excellent archive footage.
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