Massacre in Rome (1973)

          The European-made World War II drama Massacre in Rome depicts a 1944 incident during which the Third Reich killed 335 citizens in reprisal for a partisan attack that left about 30 German soldiers dead. The so-called “Ardeatine Massacre” carried sociopolitical implications extending beyond the war itself, since the Vatican was asked to intervene but refused to do so. Written and directed by George P. Cosmatos, who adapted a book by Robert Katz, Massacre in Rome is a serious attempt at cataloguing the myriad factors that led to the slaughter, although the process of dramatization led Cosmatos toward both oversimplification and turgidity. Regarding the first extreme, Cosmatos transformed historical figure Herbert Kappler, the German officer tasked with organizing the reprisal, into a cinematic protagonist, which necessitated some sanding of edges. In the movie, Kappler—as played by Richard Burton—is a pragmatist who urges his commanders to exercise restraint not out of any great wellspring of human compassion, but because he knows that an excessive response will energize opposition among the Italian citizenry. Historical accounts suggest that the real Kappler had no such reservations about following the company line.

          Regarding the second extreme, that of turgidity, Cosmatos created a composite character, Father Pietro Antonelli—portrayed by Marcello Mastroianni—to represent the tricky relationship between the church and Italian partisans. Many scenes involving the priest devolve into pretentious debates about morality. Worse, the priest ultimately serves no discernible narrative function—despite fretting a lot, he never impacts the action in a meaningful way. Given these problems, Massacre in Rome is a middling film even though it’s also a sober undertaking with terrific production values. At his best, Cosmatos conveys a vision of the Third Reich’s high command as a dysfunctional family, with insane leader Adolf Hitler (who is never shown onscreen) creating a top-down climate of paranoia and savagery while more rational people eye the inevitable future after Hitler’s power structure collapses. Marginalized in this treatment of the story are the people affected by the massacre, because Cosmatos doesn’t spend enough time with the partisans or with the common people of Rome. That said, Cosmatos and producer Carlo Ponti honor the dead with a closing text crawl featuring the names of the victims.

Massacre in Rome: FUNKY

The Cassandra Crossing (1976)

          A runaway train meets a viral outbreak in the overwrought disaster flick The Cassandra Crossing, which has just enough florid acting and gonzo energy to remain lively for all of its 129 absurd minutes. Things get started when terrorists attack the headquarters of the International Health Organization because they’ve learned U.S. officers at the IHO are holding a sample of a deadly plague. Most of the attackers are killed, but one of the terrorists gets exposed to the toxin and escapes, slipping onto a train heading from Geneva to Stockholm. Soon after, the terrorist’s infection spreads to other passengers.

          The official tasked with containing the situation, U.S. Army Col. Stephen Mackenzie (Burt Lancaster), reroutes the train to Poland, where it will pass over a decaying bridge known as the Cassandra Crossing. Mackenzie’s civilian counterpart, Dr. Elena Stradner (Ingrid Thulin), realizes the colonel plans to collapse the bridge beneath the train, killing everyone aboard as a means of preventing the plague from reaching any major population centers, so she reaches out to one of the train’s passengers, neurologist Dr. Jonathan Chamberlain (Richard Harris), for help—because, of course, a super-genius scientist happens to be on board. With Stradner’s guidance, Chamberlain tries to quarantine victims so Mackenzie’s scheme can be halted.

          Director and co-writer George P. Cosmatos gooses this pulpy storyline with melodramatic subplots involving Chamberlain’s ex-wife (Sophia Loren), a larcenous May-December couple (played by Martin Sheen and Ava Gardner, if you can picture that peculiar combination), and other random characters. (Also populating the grab-bag cast are John Philip Law, Lee Strasberg, O.J. Simpson, and Lionel Stander.) Borrowing a page from Hollywood’s master of disaster, producer Irwin Allen, Cosmatos fills the screen with so much noise that viewers are constantly distracted by changes of scenery and tone. Thus, the movie capriciously flits between, say, torrid domestic squabbles involving a caustic Harris and a haze-filter-shrouded Loren, and grim command-center showdowns involving idealistic Thulin and merciless Lancaster. Interspersed with the dramatic scenes are handsomely mounted shots of the train zooming across the European countryside, and, of course, it all leads to a carnage-filled climax.

The Cassandra Crossing: FUNKY

Escape to Athena (1979)

Escape to Athena should be a tasty wedge of cheese, based solely on the eclectic cast and the fact that helmer George P. Cosmatos (The Cassandra Crossing) knows how to make entertaining trash. Set during World War II, the movie features Sonny Bono, Claudia Cardinale, Elliot Gould, David Niven, Stefanie Powers, Roger Moore, Richard Roundtree, and Telly Savalas as guards and inmates at a German prison camp on a Mediterranean island. The muddy screenplay, based on a story co-written by Cosmatos, tries to weave together a plan to derail an impending Nazi onslaught, a quest to liberate oppressed locals, and a scheme to steal ancient relics—while still leaving room for comedy and romance—but in trying to play every possible crowd-pleasing note, Cosmatos creates an absolute mess. Not only are the ample charms of the cast wasted, but sumptuous location photography by British DP Gilbert Taylor, of Star Wars fame, is squandered on inconsequential and occasionally nonsensical scenes. Miscasting and tonal inconsistency are the biggest problems. Moore, clearly eager to try something different between 007 movies, plays a stately Austrian commandant who resents his Nazi superiors, but he gives an atrocious performance: His accent is pathetic, and he tries to come across as likeable and menacing at the same time, so his work is indecisive and sloppy. Bono is such an intrinsically ’70s figure, sporting the same shaggy shoulder-length hair and drooping walrus moustache he wore in his countless TV appearances with Cher, that he’s a walking anachronism. And the scenes featuring Elliot Gould as a fast-talking American showman, complete with straw boater hat and vaudeville hucksterism, are decidedly unfunny. Making matters worse, some of the top-billed players, notably Cardinale, Niven, and Roundtree, get lost entirely because their roles are underwritten and lack distinct impact. It’s true that a few of the action scenes are passable, and Powers is appealing-ish as a showgirl using her wiles to make the best of a bad situation, but neither of these elements feels compatible with the other. Despite its obvious eagerness to please, Escape to Athena is so undisciplined that watching the cavalcade of lame humor, random stars, and sporadic action eventually becomes numbing.

Escape to Athena: LAME