Salt of Life - It does not happen often that you are the only person in the movie theatre. It may happen if you find ways to lock yourself in overnight but it would certainly qualify as a rare bonafide occurrence during a screening in broad daylight.So in the March of this Year of Grace, just last weekend, I hunkered down to catch a show "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" a movie which has received adequate praise. When I bought the ticket, the girl at the counter spoke crisply into her walkie-talkie "Ok, we have a ticket for the Screen 4. The show is on!" Surrounded only by the ghosts of martyred spies occupying all other seats, I watched the movie which smoothly motored and switched its dense way through bleak European locales while unravelling the mystery of a high-placed traitor in Britain’s Secret Service. Sure I appreciate hard-core espionage thrillers like Frederick Forsyth’s work "The Deceiver" (1991) but this movie didn’t tug at my viscera. Was it a little too detached for its own good? Did it not have enough salt? Or was it a film whose inherent flavour precluded the the need for salt?
4 days later, I went to watch "Salt of Life" at the same provincial multiplex. It was a 2011 Italian movie which had wended its way across the globe into this theatre, more than a year after its release.When I summated the previous paragraph in 2 brief lines to the girl at the counter, imagine my short-lived surprise when she smiled and said" Well you are again the only audience for this movie now. Isn’t it nice to have your own personalized theatre?" I nodded. An Indian especially appreciates these things.
Salt, shavings of parmesan, a few cuts of salami, white wine, some hearty pasta and a touch of Tiramisu at the end nicely rounded out my cinematic affair this time. This is not a movie about food but its effect may approximate the feeling you get when you are repeatedly denied the craving for some lusty Italian fare in early autumn. "Salt of Life" revolves around Giovanni -a man in his fifties. Forced into retirement prematurely, he is now a man who has ample time to contemplate the fullness of life, and the luscious curves of the ladies in Rome. His savings are meagre , as reflected by the frequent references to withdrawals from his Pension for needs of daily expenditure. His apartment may have the aesthetic touch of cobblestoned streets outside, but inside it is of the sort in which the toilet’s flush is often heard in the drawing room.
His mother is a wizened ancient lady- one of those very old-looking women who look like they are going to drop dead any minute, but who actually continue to triumphantly exist year after year. She calls Gianni to her house almost daily for errands , ranging from simply adjusting the TV plug into its socket, to serving lunch and wine to her and her gang of pals as they are engrossed in a raucous game of cards.She smiles graciously and liberally praises her dear son for his generous help, but sends him into new heights of exasperation each time the question of giving him any money comes up.
His wife’s skin has started sagging ;she isn’t particularly unattractive and we see that she cares for him but Gianni after decades of marriage seems to have developed an appetite for other women now. His teenaged daughter is also shown to express concern for her Dad, and she is apparently not averse to frequently having her lover stay in their house.This boy casually emerges from her room and chats with Gianni as if he is his own son. There is a downstairs neighbour too in the form of a young beautiful woman who professes a warm fuzzy love full of kisses to Gianni who walks her dog...
As he trawls the streets and visits the markets, he finds it impossible to ignore the buxom assets of attractive women who pass by (a friend once told me years ago that his likely mode of death would be the result of craning his neck backwards to catch sight of a passing beauty when riding his bike!) His flower flutters in the middle-aged desert of his life when his female friends call him over for private meetings, and his friend joins in the mission to hatch a palpitating plan that has potential to relieve Gianni’s misery...
Salt of Life imparts a soft, comely lambency to the contours of a fickle life. It is shot using a mellow palette, a "twilight" lens- as if the images are refracted throught the very light amber of white wine which is liberally consumed in this lilting tale.Giovanni Di Gregorio who is the director, co-writer and central actor of this charming movie, is successfully in precisely calibrating the light-hearted mood and the teasing comedy of thwarted desires that flow through this story.Its overall appeal is helped by the fact that Gianni is a likeable codger. He tells his friend that he cannot indulge in paid sex because he would like to know the woman emotionally before proceeding to physical affairs ("Go ahead, take your time and chat with her entire family before meeting her!, his friend retaliates) Gianni offers his help whenever asked for, but at the same time he discovers an urgent need to consummate his desires outside the conjugal bed.
His saturnine, weary face could very well have been a mean forbidding exterior but here it is a kindly visage, with gentle gestures. It hints at inner intelligence but he seems to lack the killer instinct to march ahead and get exactly what he wants. Is this want of ebullience also the reason for his fragile financial status and early forced retirement? Was his youth spent in similar frustration? As mentioned before, De Gregorio is slyly effective in introducing humour to leaven the feckless adventures of his journeyman. One scene opens to show Gianni exercising in the dawn air on his terace. I thought "Good man, he is keeping himself fit" only to realize soon that all of this man’s manoeuvres were consistent with rhythmic thrusts more often seen in the bedroom!
A 1995 opinion poll and series of private interviews conducted in Italy showed that 67% of its married men had committed adultery.This film’s hero tries hard , not only in spirit but also through deed, to join the ranks of his morally flaccid, emotionally virile brethren ;and perhaps the part of the villain is played by something inside him. Will good triumph over evil in the end? Will lascivious drive erode into saintly stoicism? Or will long-suffering desire be at last fulfilled? Let it suffice to assure you that at the end I at any rate felt adequately pleasured.