ave you been drinking?” Fabio (Giancarlo Giannini) wakes up the padre early one morning to ring the church bells in the little mountainside city of Santa Vittoria, proclaiming that Mussolini is gone. “It’s the greatest day in all the history of Italy!” But no one in the town seems to react; until Babbaluche (Renato Rascel) reminds them that this signifies the end of fascist rule, which inspires some light revelry – including by Italo Bombolini (Anthony Quinn), stealing a bottle of wine from his bitter, disapproving, fiery wife, Rosa (Anna Magnani), who has no interest in celebrating, or giving away free booze.

“If he wants to kill himself, let him!” Later that day, Bombolini ascends the massive water tower, drunkenly intending to paint over words that state that “Mussolini is always right,” but he becomes too unsteady to do much other than frighten the townsfolk, who believe he’ll leap to his death. The remaining fascists temporarily still in charge determine that before the people forcefully evict them from their governmental seat, they should voluntarily relinquish power, thereby avoiding violence. And better yet, perhaps they can put Bombolini in a figurehead position – as mayor – to distract from possible severer retributions. “He’s an idiot!”

Though the bumbling clown commands little respect, once his drunkenness ebbs, he’s motivated to take his new role responsibly. With zero expectations, maybe he can actually do something important. And when he appoints many of the more prominent villagers as heads of various departments, he’s sure to have widespread support. But more amusing to start with is his 16-year-old daughter Angela (Patrizia Valturri), who comically wishes to acquire information on her budding sexuality, as she’s head-over-heels in love with Fabio. At the same time, Rosa chases her husband around with a rolling pin and throws pots and pans at him like a skit from The Three Stooges.

“The Germans are coming!” They are coming to take the wine!” The momentarily free city of Santa Vittoria isn’t so much at risk of further occupation as it is of having its monumental million-plus bottles of wine looted; the pride of the community rests in that precious alcohol. And so, additional physical comedy moments arise as a chaotic gathering of people attempts to hide the wine. The logistics are part of the pandaemonium, as the relocation of so many bottles becomes quite the predicament. Interestingly, the film builds up its main characters at the beginning, taking plenty of time before even revealing the fact that the town has tremendous wine reserves. It’s almost something of a misdirection; what might have been purely a character study shifts into a humorous examination of large-scale planning and teamwork.

Of course, there are also a couple of light love stories working their way through the background of the plot – one of which involves a widowed countess (Virna Lisi) and an infantry captain (Sergio Franchi), who are clearly meant to be together but do their best to show minimal attraction. Yet, as with most comedy-dramas with a World War II setting, the romance and laughs have a difficult time overcoming the tragedies; uncompromising soldiers imposing their will on timid grape-growing peasants has a distinct effect on the general blitheness (Hardy Kruger as a more nuanced yet intimidating German officer is expertly cast, providing a dynamic with Quinn that is reminiscent of the central one in “The Bridge on the River Kwai”). Even a later scene in which a German driver harasses Angela leaves a sour taste on the rest of the frivolities – including over a subsequent romp that contains the best of the picture’s comic segues.

Ultimately, despite the attention to character development, the film runs noticeably overlong, failing to cut out some of the extraneous sequences (as adapted from the Robert Crichton novel) as it navigates its way to a strangely dour collection of impasses. But with Stanley Kramer at the helm, the performances mined are fantastic. Quinn is heartily over-the-top, while many of the supporting roles are appropriately sincere. And Magnani is the true triumph here; she’s perfectly strong-willed yet tender – a heroine of an uncommon but strikingly realistic, encouraging variety. Some of the final revelations are also unusually fitting, though they’re a touch too obvious when revealed, not quite being set up in a manner that would allow for the best reaction from sympathetic or idealistic audiences. But the conclusion is thoroughly unforgettable, even if it’s in the face of a danger that viewers will know is unconvincing.

– Mike Massie