A second and last insane cinematic outing from Squallor, the musical group that avoids elegance like the bubonic plague
No one will be left sitting on the fence: you’ll either love it or hate it
In all honesty, if after watching Uccelli d’Italia you complain about the high content of vulgarity from the very first to the very last second, don’t even think of blaming Squallor. Before making this film, they had already clearly shown what they were about, releasing a string of records with names such as Vacca (Cow/Whore) and Scoraggiando (Farting), to cite two of the politest titles. The philosophy running through this work, their second and final cinematic outing (after Arrapaho, also directed by Ciro Ippolito), greets us in the very first line: “Da un grande paese… grandi uccelli”, which more or less translates as “From a big country… big cocks.” Therefore, expect extreme dialogue and situations, where grace and elegance is avoided like the bubonic plague. Squallor aren’t a band that leave people sitting on the fence: some people absolutely love them, others absolutely hate them. Nor is there any sense of ambiguity about the matter for posterity to pass judgement on: things will always be this way.
The imagination of an author suffering from writer’s block churns out fragmentary and demented situations, inspired by the songs of the band Squallor. Fake commercials and television parodies garnish the serving of insanity.
A second and last insane cinematic outing from Squallor, the musical group that avoids elegance like the bubonic plague
No one will be left sitting on the fence: you’ll either love it or hate it
In all honesty, if after watching Uccelli d’Italia you complain about the high content of vulgarity from the very first to the very last second, don’t even think of blaming Squallor. Before making this film, they had already clearly shown what they were about, releasing a string of records with names such as Vacca (Cow/Whore) and Scoraggiando (Farting), to cite two of the politest titles. The philosophy running through this work, their second and final cinematic outing (after Arrapaho, also directed by Ciro Ippolito), greets us in the very first line: “Da un grande paese… grandi uccelli”, which more or less translates as “From a big country… big cocks.” Therefore, expect extreme dialogue and situations, where grace and elegance is avoided like the bubonic plague. Squallor aren’t a band that leave people sitting on the fence: some people absolutely love them, others absolutely hate them. Nor is there any sense of ambiguity about the matter for posterity to pass judgement on: things will always be this way.
The imagination of an author suffering from writer’s block churns out fragmentary and demented situations, inspired by the songs of the band Squallor. Fake commercials and television parodies garnish the serving of insanity.
