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Italian Movie Download Naples Never Dies... It Shoots!
Spartaco Castelluci's international crime thriller contains the usual complacent deviants and human garbage we've come to celebrate from Depth Charge Productions. Starting with a brutal assassination in a group therapy session, the action soon relocates to Italia where the ever- running DC themes of paint addiction, human livestock trading and traditional drug smuggling begin to whirlwind out of control. Meanwhile, a snitch musician gets mixed up with a shady lawyer and homosexual closeted government agents over a massive cartel shipment. Apparently, a drug runner Cornell Parker is under FBI scrutiny after a series of brutal killings and kidnappings. Faceless hero Gus Benedict returns to make things right, or sulk in anger, depending on his mood and location to any given on screen scumbag looking to eliminate him. Or something like that. The on screen directions to a website for additional plot information led me to a broken link.
There's much more variety in cast and depravity than the movie's countless prequels, and with a healthy collection of cameos from excellent unknowns. The whole affair seems more epic and focused. Stielstra is back playing a plethora of scum, his most repugnant being the permed half-breed Parker. Parker drives the movie's sordidness and hatred to its comical peak but ultimately fizzles up in a series of shootouts. It makes Buster Pie's heroin-addicted saxophonist seem relatively stable. More characters come and go to be promptly executed before receiving ethnic insults or abuse. Standouts include Michael Fredianelli as Isaac Abrahams, a harmless Jewish attorney forced to associate with whiny musicians and narcotics smuggling. His hideous sideburns, cowboy boots and thrift store jackets--not to mention Fredianelli's bloated countenance--make for a pathetic presentation of authority. But it's that rare character in the film we root for and sympathize with. Until he's eaten by Mexicans. Actor Mike Malloy gives the other great supporting performance as a federal agent confined to an abandoned building with more antiquated surveillance and gadgetry than Jigsaw's basement. He's inexplicitly dubbed for a majority of the film, but it's his smarmy Bruce Dern delivery and ambiguous sexuality that really shock the audience and supplies a welcomed 70s crime throwback to the proceedings. Unfortunately, his character's fate remains unexplained through the end of the movie.
The film definitely has its assets, despite its amateurish shortcomings. The most impressive aspect of the narrative being the spot-on social commentary regarding pop culture and obesity in America, two motifs I'm pleased Stielstra has not yet abandoned. Other jabs at our decaying modern civilization include disgusting pop videos, a reoccurring news bulletin regarding an infant on a rampage, and a nauseating montage of bulbous ATV drivers. Not very subtle, but an appropriate commentary nonetheless. Sadly, the film's annoying medievalists were not mowed down by a nearby explosion.
Technically speaking, this is the most advanced and visually impressive of the DC productions. Some shots are very cleverly setup and executed, such as an extreme telephoto long take of a confrontation at the train tracks pre-firefight, and a sweeping pan across the Mexican border. Lighting is also used more effectively and sparingly, the best example being a moody showdown between Buster and Bud that ends in morbid David Lynchian fashion and weirdness. As per par for the course, the soundtrack rarely disappoints with enough stingers and drones to make any Bill Lustig fanatic take note—especially when they accompany a flaming miniature car explosion. The suspenseful compositions, such as Gus's themes, appropriately build tension and rarely falter. The remainder of the songs contain enough funk and groove to make the on screen atrocities more palatable and enjoyable.
The general look and feel of the movie still feels amateurish. A big part of the blame can be placed on all the worthless one-chip cameras and a lack of proper sound equipment, but there's still room for improvement in areas that don't require any budget or a big crew. Some more controlled camera-work would have helped, mostly in the countless montages that consist of sloppy hand-held pans, zooms and tilts. Also, too many scenes are obviously stitched together from numerous locations and it shows: the worst offenders being two brief action sequences.
Narrative-wise, the story is a lot easier to follow this time around, but there's still a large amount of talky exposition, incessant name dropping and elongated dialog scenes. More editing would have helped, even at the expense of creating plot holes. Also, the entire cast seems to fall into two camps, and since the main parts are acted so well, it just makes the inexperienced, weaker performers that much easier to spot.
Overall, the film delivers on the expected laughs and bloodshed despite its limitations. Eternally quotable lines such as, "Suck my buttocks," have already penetrated the everyday dialog of this viewer, and many gags will burn out the rewind button on my remote. Recommended, if you can focus on the main characters and ignore the plot confusion and visual patchwork. NAPLES NEVER DIES IT SHOOTS! "Unapologetic, brain-damaged hysteria" would adequately describe this new crime-comedy from the writer-director Aaron Stielstra. To call it post-modern would grant it bogus intellectual stature, to call it indie or punk lumps it in with more noisy, humorless, and pretentious cinema—though it is noisy. There is no real story worth following, nor are there answers to any questions. Stielstra is determined to ignore narrative coherency, which he announces at the beginning of the movie in a title card, and move right on with the characters. Luckily, the acting in the film is excellent and this rescues the movie from being just a dysfunctional shout-fest, as evidenced in earlier Stielstra films.
A disfigured Gus Benedict (Aaron Stielstra), returns from the first film, a victim of a botched suicide attempt. His mission is to wipe out the crime community of a hick town in the American southwest. We don't know why, and Benedict's "Exterminator"-style disposal of the bad guys seems more a familiar habit than any symptom of rage. Meanwhile, a corrupt FBI agent (Mike Malloy) and a white supremacist group Anal Pride (the movies most hysterical concoction)conspire to carry out as many of the script's double-crossings as they can before Benedict reduces them all to piles of bloody pulp. Enough plot.
What should satisfy B-movie aficionados and lovers of John Waters and Paul Morrisey is the sordid subject matter and damaged people on screen. For fans of powerhouse action-thrillers of the 70s and 80s (directors like James Glickenhaus, John Frankenheimer at his worst, or black-action masters like Arthur Marks, Ossie Davis, Barry Shear, plus the comedy of Rudy Ray Moore), there is the irreverent crime-movie action. For all its technical flaws (and there are many) and lapses into buggy-eyed, no-mans-land indulgences, the film does have a vision. And though it is apt to lose audiences over its manic style, it's no less punishing or manipulative than an Oliver Stone movie bloated with its own self-importance.
Also noteworthy is the exceptional jazz-funk score that wears its influences of Herbie Hancock, the DeAngelis Brothers, and Lalo Schifrin on its sleeve while delivering some unique grooves and surprising synthesizer compositions. Stielstra has scored many excellent soundtracks in the past decade, from westerns, like "The Scarlet Worm", to controversial horror such as Michael Fredianelli's shocking "The Minstrel Killer". But here the music possesses more maturity and imagination. Not to mention, subterranean melodies and squishy sea- beast cacophony.
Lastly, without gushing too much about a movie that has received a criminally small amount of screen-time--this before being banned in Poland and the Arctic Circle--one must applaud the supporting cast and their dynamic performances. For the amount of execrable bad acting visible in both Hollywood blockbusters and popular television these days, its refreshing to see such a spirited ensemble both embody the dementia in the script and characters, and suffer such awful deaths with little dignity.
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