Marco Ferreri should have gotten some kind of honorary award for turning a seemingly surefire premise into an astonishingly dull movie. The characters don't exchange even one meaningful line of dialogue during the film's two hours. That means that they don't connect with each other, and we don't connect with them. And that means that we're not in any way affected by the "wild" goings-on; we simply occasionally observe that "hmmm, that must have been provocative in 1973", and we move on. (*1/2)
Review of The Big Feast
