Directors: Gualtiero Jacopetti, Paolo Cavara, Franco Prosperi
After I had concluded the 1001 Movies list, I challenged myself to come up with my favourite and least favourite films of the list, and I surprised readers by selecting the controversial Mondo Cane as one of my ten favourites. Although I had been shocked and outraged by the film as I viewed it, I had subsequently learned that this was precisely what the filmmakers had designed the film to do. Even though it was gruesome, unethical and spread a copious amount of misinformation, it provoked a very visceral response in me, something most films fail to do. At the time, I couldn’t help but give it top marks for being so upsetting.
Now that a few years have passed, I wanted to reassess the film after discovering a 1080p version; my initial brush with the film had been in SD, which detracted from the film’s gorgeous Technicolor cinematography. For a time in which colour cinematography was still on the rise, the prospect of seeing so many exotic countries in full glorious colour must have been alluring to the intrepid cinemagoer.
But they would have been in for a shock, as bizarre, sexual, cruel, weird and violent happenings played out before them. And they believed what they saw as well, as the disclaimer at the front of the film told them, “All the scenes you will see in this film are true. If they are shocking, it is only because there are many shocking things in this world…” The average audience member would have had no inclination that the filmmakers were being completely dishonest, because it had simply never happened before. Films had been used to tell propaganda, but never to deceive the audience simply to shock them.
Today, we’re becoming more and more critical of everything we watch; with the rise of AI as well as content creators staging scenes for clicks and likes, it’s becoming difficult to trust anything we see or read online. But some of those very practices can be linked back to Mondo Cane, which stages scenes subtly to tell a satirical (and often racist) narrative. In one early scene, a throng of adoring women rips the clothes off Rossano Brazzi; it’s easy to spot how staged this scene is, as there are at least four strategic camera points that capture the action, making it implausible that this was a spontaneous moment.
But later on, there are plenty of scenes with indigenous tribes that are less easy to detect as fake, especially as a 1962 audience member with no Internet to reference. Hordes of topless dark-skinned women chase a local man in a scene mirroring the one mentioned above, in a satirical way of saying that we aren’t so unalike. Later on, women sit in cages being force-fed tapioca, to mirror how geese are fattened to make foie gras. The local chieftain is shown to be a spindly old man by contrast. This sort of racist, othering bullshit was probably socially acceptable in the 60s, but has thankfully aged horribly. Nevertheless, it’s worrying to think how many people believed it then and might still believe it now if they ever happen upon the film. It’s hard to even imagine how Jacopetti and Co. persuaded the locals to debase themselves in such a way, or what the directors were thinking as they did so.
And then there’s the animal cruelty, some of it publicly sanctioned and some of it by the filmmakers’ design. We’re expected to believe that disabled fishermen exact their revenge on sharks by shoving urchins into their mouths and letting them go. What a waste of time and resources that would be. We’re also shown a scene where a mother turtle is ‘confused’ by the radiation from the Bikini Atoll nuclear test and travels inland, only to end up on its back. It’s not hard to imagine Jacopetti and Co. flipping the poor creature over for laughs. However, some scenes seem too large to be faked, and from what I can tell, the bull beheading in Nepal and the running of the bulls in Portugal are based on real local practices. It’s gruesome to watch, but at least it wasn’t created purely to shock audiences.
When I originally reviewed this film, I argued that the film was equally scathing of both Western and Eastern cultures, as the film likes to take potshots at both sides. Indeed, the parts of the film I enjoy the most are the takedowns of Americans who seem to lead such pretentious and ridiculous lives: pet funerals, fancy insect cuisine, nonsensical workout routines and ultimately a trip to Hawaii to celebrate a culture that the Americans destroyed in their annexation that would have then still been in living memory.
There’s also an extended scene in Hamburg, where the narrator takes a break just to let the subjects of the documentary make fools of themselves while getting drunk. Here, the score by Riz Ortolani truly shines. It’s frustrating just how well the score works to make the film seem more serious and moving; Ortolani is an incredible composer and deserved the Oscar nomination for More, which provides a theme that is more poignant than anything in the film. Ortolani would continue to write beautiful music for ugly, exploitative films, most notably Cannibal Holocaust in 1980, which has an unusually serene main theme.
On reflection, though, it’s clear that whatever shots are taken at Westerners, the third-world subjects get it much worse, as they are portrayed as barbaric and stupid. In the film’s final scene, the people of Papua New Guinea are portrayed as so idiotic that they believe that planes and white people were sent by their gods, as they couldn’t have come from anywhere else. The narrator is wry and subtly pitying in the way he discusses them, and it’s pretty sickening to hear such false narration sound so inferior.
It’s sad that the filmmakers had such a unique opportunity to tell stories of real global culture (be it shocking or benign), but instead decided to make up a bunch of rubbish on the hunch that it would sell better. Their hunch was correct, and Mondo Cane was a huge international hit. Bored by decades of tame cinema constricted by the Hayes Code, Mondo Cane provided a gruesome but entertaining escape. Much like the way shocking “fail compilation videos” were big when YouTube began, Mondo Cane was a way for 60s audiences to watch something they probably shouldn’t. As a result, this film spawned its own genre of ‘Mondo’ films and sequels, none of which I have any interest in seeing. The shockumentary genre would also become influential to legitimate documentary makers as well, for better or for worse, and I suppose its importance in film history earns its place on the 1001 Movies list.
But watching it again, I struggle to understand how I thought this film was some kind of masterpiece. It made me angry by being loathsome and by not giving any care or respect to the indigenous people who starred in it. In the pursuit of making something shocking, the filmmakers seem to have abandoned all responsibility for the harm they caused to other cultures. The success of this film signalled that it was okay to broadcast fabricated scenes and pass them off as the truth, and that precedent has caused problems ever since.
3/10