HANDS OVER THE CITY - DVD review

The first shot of Francesco Rosi's "Hands Over the City" is a literal depiction of the title. The camera sweeps over the city of Naples in a wide panorama and ends up on the outstretched hands of real estate developer Edoardo Nottola (Rod Steiger) who gestures to the city below as he discusses his plans to expand the city, as well as his own business. The next shot performs nearly the same function: a group of city councilmen, hands also outstretched, stand over a model of the city, announcing their intentions to make Naples a better place for everyone to live: "Now where there's only a squalid expanse, the city will bring roads, water, power, gas, and all other necessary improvements."

Contracts are signed, construction machinery hums and whirls. The promise of modernist progress hangs in the air… until the walls of an apartment building come tumbling down. Careless planning by the construction crew causes the accident, in which several residents die, and the city council leaps into action to discover what went wrong. Well, "leaps" might not be the right term, how about "lopes" into action? No? "Circles aimlessly in the general vicinity of, but never particularly close to, a real investigation?" That's more like it. The 9/11 Commission must have used this as a template.

While the people of Naples cry for justice, the narrative follows the machinations of city councilmen to cover their own asses, and of Nottola to keep alive his bid for the commissioner's office. None of them, politician and businessman alike, could care less about the dead or injured, not even a hospital-bed-ridden young boy whose sad face would surely have ended many a political career if only local media been interested enough to show it. Councilman De Vita, a Communist, is the only man who exhibits any interest in uncovering the truth, a Sisyphean task considering the obstacles he runs into in the form of cover-ups and bureaucratic red tape. Nottola and his council cronies made sure every "i" was dotted, and every palm greased, leaving bulldog De Vita to bite on granite.

In terms of content, Rosi's film carries all the hallmarks of Italian neo-realism. It's filmed in the city (Naples) and deals with real-life issues: in this case, the corruption of city government, and its effects on a disenfranchised populace. But "Hands Over the City" bears only a passing resemblance to the films of Rossellini or De Sica, and then only in its occasional use of non-professional actors. Rosi's film actually represents a hybrid, merging the socio-political concerns of neo-realism with an overtly theatrical style of film-making, replete with baroque camera angles, jarring cuts, and over-the-top performances. For the most, Rosi's innovative approach works, except for Piero Piccioni's intrusive and distracting score. The "documentary" flavor of traditional neo-realism is mostly lost, but they are hardly missed with Rosi's virtuoso touch.

Rod Steiger, as Nottola, plays the nominal protagonist, but this is a film about an entire system, not any one man. Nottola styles himself a power broker, but he learns that even the city's most influential business man can be cast aside (and then embraced once again) in the name of political expediency. Steiger's performance is intense, brooding, and entirely physical since he is dubbed by an Italian actor. Far more interesting and nuanced is the character of De Vita, as his would-be adversary. De Vita is played by non-professional actor Carlo Fermariello, who was, in fact, a Naples councilman and a union official. He's certainly the character the audience sympathizes with the most, even as he flails helplessly about in the quicksand of local politics, being sucked under with grueling inevitability.

As the end approaches, the viewer can't help but return to the opening image of the film. Though the people of Naples are the ones most impacted by the council's actions, they are only peripheral figures in the story, seen less and less as the film tightens its focus on the web of political intrigue. As the film progresses, there are fewer scenes set in the city itself, and more set in sterile offices and smoky back-rooms. The hands over the city do not belong to any of its residents, but to aloof power brokers whose decisions affect the lives of thousands, but are made with nobody in mind save themselves. The film takes an even bleaker turn at the end when the clergy shows up to bless the new construction project there are no bigger "hands over the city" placed higher-up that the people can turn to for respite.

Video:
The film is presented in a 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen aspect ratio. The transfer may not be quite as pristine as the usual Criterion offering, but that's just splitting airs. The black and white image is sharp and richly textured, though I caught some occasional flickering in the transfer. No complaints, though.

Audio:
The DVD is presented in Dolby Digital Mono. I am tempted to say that the film score is dialed up too high, but I'm pretty sure that's how it was intended to sound. I'm not a big fan of it. Otherwise, the sound transfer is excellent. Optional English subtitles support the Italian audio.

Extras:
All of the special features on this two-disc set are included on the second disc.

The main attraction is "Neapolitan Diary" (1992, 89 min.). Nearly 30 years after "Hands Over the City," Rosi returned to Naples with a small documentary crew to take a fresh look at the condition of city politics. Mea culpa: I did not have time to watch this feature before writing this review.

The rest of the extras in the set are a series of interviews:

Francesco Rosi (13 min.) - In an interview recorded specifically for Criterion, Rosi discusses his approach to filmmaking and the production of "Hands Over the City."

In a separate interview, the great French critic Michel Ciment speaks to Rosi and screenwriter Raffaele La Capria (16 min.)

Jean-Pierre Gorin, always a pleasure to listen to (even if he did just write a far-too-fawning review of "The Departed"), also clocks in with his own take on the film in another Criterion-exclusive interview (10 min.)

Finally, Italian critic Tullio Kezich offers his analysis in a short interview (5 min.)

Though many of the interviews are insightful, it feels like the Criterion crew was trying to pad this collection, essentially to build up enough air-time around "Neapolitan Diary" to justify a second disc.

The 32-page insert booklet features an essay by critic Stuart Klawans, and an interview with Francesco Rosi which originally appeared in the debut 2004 issue of CinemaCittà.

Film Value:
Rosi's story of political intrigue makes for a rather unusual "thriller," one almost entirely devoid of traditional action, but plenty high on interpersonal conflict. "Salvatore Giuliano" (1962) is usually considered Rosi's masterpiece, but "Hands Over the City" is an impressive effort as well.