If there is one subject that art loves more than any other, it would be love – there is even a theory that the impetus that absolutely any work of art can be traced back to being about romance in some form, even if only slightly. However, much like any subject, the more popular it grows, the likelier it becomes that someone will go in a radically different direction, focusing on the direct opposite in the hopes of presenting a different perspective in some way or another. In the case of Pietro Germi, his intention when adapting the novel Un delitto d’onore by Giovanni Arpino was to craft a film that was a counterargument to the wealth of melodramatic romances that populated much of European cinema around this film, where the idea of love conquering all obstacles was widespread, enough to become something of an artistic epidemic for those who held a slightly more cynical view of reality. The result was Divorce Italian Style (Italian: Divorzio all’italiana), a hilarious and irreverent black comedy in which the director crafts a film around the simplest of premises: a free-spirited Italian nobleman falls in love with his mistress, but knowing that divorce is not legal in Italy plots to kill his wife by luring her into an affair of her own, in order to be free of her presence, as well as being able to pursue the life of a bachelor, under the assumption that this “honour killing” will help him avoid any criminal penalty – and as expected, everything derails the moment he attempts to put his plan into motion. Darkly comedic and incredibly offbeat, Divorce Italian Style represents one of the earliest works of a movement within Italian cinema to challenge the viewer with macabre stories presented with the most challenging humour, and while it may not rise to the same level of films like Il Sorpasso and Fists in the Pocket that would follow in its footsteps, it remains one of the most fascinating satires produced in a country that has always had quite an intriguing approach to blurring fact and fiction in their artistic endeavours, this being one of the most delightfully potent examinations of seemingly very simple material.

In their capacity as the author of the source material and the director who set out to adapt the novel (alongside screenwriters Ennio De Concini and Alfredo Giannetti, who have the challenge of helping him put this adaptation together), Arpino and Germi put their skills together to create quite an unconventional work, and one that is just as dark as its premise would have you believe. Usually, we expect these films to be much less dense when it comes to the more taboo subjects, and while it isn’t entirely formed in bad taste for the most part (being an elegant affair even at its most morally questionable), there is still a layer of darkness lingering over this film that is difficult to overlook when we are considering it in relation to other dark comedies that look at subjects that aren’t usually discussed in decent society, or at least not openly since there are some topics that are best kept in the shadows for the most part. Quite a bit of the film skirts around the edges of controversy, but we don’t actually believe that it would be willing to go to the lengths that it states it will – and ultimately, this is what gives the film such a distinct atmosphere since unlike more accessible comedies that would force the protagonist to have a change of heart at the last minute, this film goes through with its intentions, leading to quite an unnerving but still profoundly intriguing approach to the underlying commentary. It often feels like this film exists in dialogue with Luis Buñuel’s masterful The Criminal Life of Archibaldo de la Cruz, a similarly dark comedy in which a cold-blooded psychopath is hidden behind the veneer of a sophisticated nobleman, and where the subject of femicide is foregrounded consistently. The main difference is that in Divorce Italian Style, the protagonist gets away with his crime, but the result is not what he expected when he realizes the scope of what he did. It’s difficult to not appreciate the sheer gumption that it took to tell this story – this film pushes boundaries without ever going too far, and it proves to be a much more sophisticated affair than many other films with such daring premises.

Was there ever an actor more thoroughly and unabashedly charismatic in the history of Italian cinema than Marcello Mastroianni? This question, which may as well be rhetorical, is perhaps the reason why Divorce Italian Style works so well because while the character of Ferdinando Cefalù could be played by just about any actor, there’s something about casting not only possibly the most recognizable movie star working in Italy at the time, but also someone known for playing this kind of suave, elegant man about town that is almost the antithesis of the neurotic and despicable anti-hero whose journey we follow throughout this film. His natural charms are fully displayed throughout this film, albeit in a way that is a lot more complex than it seems at first, and he seems to be having fun playing a more dastardly character – the sheer number of actors who have been typecast as heroic characters who remark on how much they enjoy playing villains should be a signal to the fact that we should probably start to cast people in much more diverse roles. Playing a real cad, Mastroianni is an absolute delight, and while it may not quite meet the impossible heights of performances such as 8½ and La Dolce Vita (the latter being used in this film, in a hilarious moment of meta-commentary), it’s still superbly strong work from one of the finest actors of his generation. However, Mastroianni’s portrayal is complemented by an exceptional performance by Daniela Rocca (one of Italian cinema’s most beguiling performers), who plays the doomed wife who truly loves her husband, unaware that every waking moment is spent plotting her demise. Rocca takes what could have been a one-dimensional character and turns her into something special, where she manages to be unappealing without being repulsive, overbearing without being annoying, and simply portraying this woman as someone who enjoys her life, blissfully unaware that her days are numbered. The entire cast fits perfectly into each and every one of these roles and turns Divorce Italian Style into a tremendous ensemble effort.

Ultimately, if we look beneath the surface, we find that there is a method to the madness that propels this film. This requires us to reconsider its themes as not only a film with a devil-may-care attitude to the concept of killing a spouse for the sake of leading a life as a libertine but rather something steeped heavily within the culture. There’s an ongoing discussion around why so much of 20th-century culture, particularly comedy, was centred around husbands despising their wives (or vice versa, although it was a slightly less common occurrence, primarily because having a female perspective in such stories was quite rare, but not impossible), with everything from film to theatre, stand up comedy to even comic strips in the Sunday newspaper containing refrains of “take my wife, please” or some similar sentiment that sent audiences into fits of howling laughter. Germi is surprisingly not complicit in this vaguely sexist style of comedy, since despite making an entire film around that exact concept, his efforts are less about using peroxide (the murder of one’s wife) as fertile ground for an uproarious comedy, and more as a critical statement on the patriarchal structure, and how powerful men could get away with literal cold-blooded murder due to the measures put in place that allow those with influence to manoeuvre their away around criminal activity, using religious and social decorum as a defence. When we set aside the outrageous, vaguely slapstick approach to comedy, we find that Divorce Italian Style is a mercilessly bleak depiction of Italian society at this point in the past, and its subversive critique of the patriarchy and the violence of heteronormativity, while subtle, is very much a factor in understanding precisely why this razor-sharp satire is much less simple than it appears at the surface, as well as being remarkably ahead of its time in many ways.

The premise of Divorce Italian Style is not entirely original – we’ve seen versions of the story where a jealous husband plots to kill his wife many times before, such as in Unfaithfully Yours and the quite literal How to Murder Your Wife, amongst many others. There is something oddly appealing about the discord that emerges when a hilarious comedy is made from something as dark and insidious as spousal murder, but if anything it proves that even the most taboo subjects can be the foundation for a delightful, effervescent comedy when done properly and with the right amount of wit and nuance, which distracts from the more morally questionable aspects of the story (although it seems like Germi was insistent on emphasizing these aspects, although in a way that was still true to the overall tone of the film), and which allows it to be viewed as almost a charming romp more than a film about cold-blooded murder, infidelity and social unease, all of which are woven into the fabric of the film. Anchored by a magnificent performance by one of his generation’s greatest actors, and driven by a genuine curiosity that is often quite provocative when it reaches its narrative destination, which is unpredictable and quite unsettling, but still nonetheless a fascinating depiction of society and how it maintains arbitrary and sometimes quite archaic views that lead to a lot more violence and despair than it prevents, which is one of the great ironies that Divorce Italian Style intends to emphasize in its continued pursuit of the darker and more insidious side of the human condition.