Stunning moviemaking that, seen on the heels of Gomorrah and Valentino, gave a pretty bleak but colorful picture of Italy. All those marbled floors, high ceilings and columned terrazzos, heavily made-up women and men with deep tans and coiffed hair, who would kiss you and murder you equally without expression. Any doubts that there was truth in this portrayal of Italian political leadership are dispelled by the stories coming out of Rome this month of Silvio Berlusconi’s birthday party with topless 16-year-olds. Not that Andreotti was involved in sexual scandal, just that he was similarly oblivious to any moral implications of his actions. There was no hint of what his public appeal must have been – it surely wasn’t the turned-down ears – but I take his affectless character to be a symbol of sorts that one must be Italian to decipher.