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Can’t Get A Man With A Gun | Ferreri’s 1969 masterpiece is at the Metro.

Dillinger is Dead
Written and directed by Marco Ferreri. Starring Michel Piccoli, Anita Pallenberg, and Annie Girardot.
Metro Cinema (Zeidler Hall, The Citadel). Fri-Mon, Jan. 15-18.
****1/2

The opening scenes of Marco Ferreri’s 1969 film Dillinger is Dead read like a psychedelic Mad Lib of the standard cliché for the suburban, white collar male’s daily routine. Glauco works at a job that bores him (in this case, as an engineer who designs state-of-the-art gas masks). He drives home to a house full of similarly disaffected people (in this case, a gorgeous wife and similarly gorgeous maid, both of whom are pro-nudity). Then, to unwind before bed, he putters around the house, finding joy in completing odd jobs (in this case, making a three-course meal and restoring an antique revolver that may have been owned by notorious bank robber, John Dillinger).

And if that sounds like the makings of a movie with lethal amounts of quirk, then perhaps Ferreri’s greatest achievement as director is in finding traces of the universal nearly everywhere he points his camera. Right up until the film spins into far darker territory about midway through, I was right there with Glauco (Michel Piccoli) as he tries to salvage his day in its final hours; the look of satisfaction on his face as he finally bites into those meticulously prepared eggs is cause for celebration all by itself. After all, the white collar cliché exists for a reason.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt to have a captivating Michel Piccoli as the protagonist, either. Considering that much of the film exists in total silence (most of the sounds come courtesy of the ever-blaring FM radio), and that Piccoli himself only has a few dozen lines of dialogue, he’s got some heavy lifting to do as a performer — and he pulls it off superbly. We’re not privy to Glauco’s thoughts, so he’s defined purely by his actions, which are captivating both in their apparent randomness and in how intently he sees them through. Why does he spray paint the old revolver bright red? Why does he eat honey off the maid’s back after his wife has gone to bed with a headache?

And then, right when we’ve been sucked in by this mysterious middle-aged engineer, Ferreri reveals Glauco’s larger scheme, and, well, let’s just say it’s far less charming than we’d been led to believe.(There’s also the issue of his gaudy orange swimming trunks, which he strips down to while eating great spoonfuls of watermelon. Not a spoiler, just kind of gross.) I wouldn’t dream of giving away the film’s jaw-dropping third act, except to say that what began as a study of suburban introspection suddenly spills out of Glauco’s living room and into — of all things — a luxury yacht, sailing the open seas.

Despite the fact that it’s been unfairly neglected for over 40 years, Dillinger is Dead appears to be on the verge of a comeback. In March, it will get the deluxe treatment as the newest addition to the illustrious “Criterion Collection.” When that happens, the secret ending will become public knowledge, and you’ll probably have it ruined for you accidentally; best to go figure it out for yourself this weekend at Metro Cinema instead.