Gli uomini, che mascalzoni...: A breezy, slightly dishonest stroll through Milan

Is it worth your time?

If you like movies that feel like a Sunday afternoon spent wandering through a city you don't know, you’ll probably dig this. It’s light as a feather. If you need intense stakes or a plot that actually goes somewhere urgent, you’ll likely find it a bit tedious. It’s definitely not for the 'must have action' crowd.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Gli uomini, che mascalzoni... (1932) through its definitive frames.

There’s this specific rhythm to Gli uomini, che mascalzoni... that just feels… nice. It’s not trying to change the world. It’s just trying to show you a guy in a car trying to look cool in front of a girl who clearly knows he’s full of it.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Gli uomini, che mascalzoni... (1932) through its definitive frames.

Vittorio De Sica is just charming, isn't he? He carries that screen presence where even when he’s being a total idiot, you’re kind of rooting for him. The way he handles the steering wheel makes you believe he owns the car, right up until the moment he clearly doesn't.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Gli uomini, che mascalzoni... (1932) through its definitive frames.

It’s funny comparing this to something like People on Sunday. Both have that 'real life' vibe, but this one is much more polished and, honestly, a bit more theatrical. It lacks that raw, documentary-style grit, but it replaces it with a lovely, breezy kind of Italian flair.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Gli uomini, che mascalzoni... (1932) through its definitive frames.

The cinematography captures 1930s Milan in a way that feels like a postcard someone forgot in a drawer. You get these glimpses of the streets and the shops, and they feel way more alive than the actual story sometimes. The shadows in the perfumery are oddly sharp.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Gli uomini, che mascalzoni... (1932) through its definitive frames.

There’s a scene about halfway through where they’re walking and talking, and the camera just lingers on their shoes for a second too long. It’s such a weird, human detail to keep in the final cut. I liked it.

Random observations:

• The suit De Sica wears? Impeccable. I want that suit.
• The pacing dips right in the middle, almost like the film decided to take a nap.
• Some of the extras in the background look like they’ve never seen a camera before in their lives.
• The dialogue is sharp, but sometimes it feels like they’re shouting it at each other across the street.

I don't know, maybe it’s just the mood I’m in. It’s not profound, it’s not life-changing. It’s just a movie about a guy being a bit of a schmuck for a girl. We’ve all been there, I suppose. Just maybe with less stylish cars.

It definitely has more soul than something like The Enchanted Hill, which felt like it was sleepwalking through the plot. Here, at least everyone seems to be having a bit of fun. Or at least they're trying to look like they are.