It's not surreal or intricate or confusingly plotted or visually curious, it's weird because I don't know why anyone would ever make a film like it. It's a culture-clash comedy between a charming and stylish Italian immigrant and his rough and ready Sydney-based workmates with their singlet and shorts uniform, with a minor love-interest angle to keep the ladies happy. I'm not preaching sexism, that's the kind of thinking that appears to be behind this film.
Walter Chiari is utterly engaging as the fish-out-of-water Italian and his charm sustained me through the first hour but there was always the nagging thought in my head "when is the story going to start?". It never did. In the end I resigned myself to the fact that, following the furore caused by his magnificent 'Peeping Tom', Michael Powell had decided to never risk offending anyone again. What follows, therefore, is a near-two hour advertisement for Australia as a place of easy manners, friendly locals, and a hard-working, hard-drinking culture where men are men and women aren't. If you want an easy-going film that uses stereotypes and language-barrier gags as shorthand means of dispensing with character development and narrative construction, then this film is the one for you.
Michael Powell's visual brilliance is kept under wraps but for a couple of moments as he plays it safe and for laughs. He is a fantastic director, but this must stand as his poorest film that I've seen. It isn't bad, just inconsequential and more than a little dull.
