The novel on which this film is based, a slender thriller by the great American writer Charles Willeford, is in many ways typical of the author. He examines misogyny and murderous psychosis from a point of view so close that it makes the reader uncomfortable, if not downright upset. But the 1971 book contains something more: a scholarly satire of contemporary art, often explained by a rebellious mansplainer.
The mansplainer, in the book and this cinematographic adaptation directed by Giuseppe Capotondi, is James Figueras, played as an imminent and imposing figure of Claes Bang. Seen for the first time delivering a conference with tourists in Milan, he was soon summoned to the domain of Lake Como by a rich art collector named Cassidy. He brings Berenice, a brave pickup truck (Elizabeth Debicki) that turns out to be an obstacle to the task that Cassidy has in store for James. Cassidy has installed a legendary reclusive artist in his field and wants James to steal one of his paintings.
One of the jokes here is that the artist, embodied as an avascular soul by Donald Sutherland, has no work – at least the one that anyone has seen. This forces James to adopt all kinds of fraud, destruction of property and worse.
There are dark stuff here, but very little biting humor from Willeford. A small and powerful quantity of this quality is delivered by the larger than life rock star Mick Jagger in the role of Cassidy. Jagger shows a refreshing lack of conventional vanity by allowing Bang and Debicki to dominate it. Maybe because he and his character still have the upper hand. His character is a nonchalant Lucifer and, in this case, the strongest reason to see this film.
The heresy of burnt orange
Classified R for sexuality, nudity, language, psychosis. Duration: 1 hour 39 minutes.