The Leopard (Il Gattopardo) (1963 Lucino Visconti)

Poor old Leopard. You sense he loves his Sicilia. And is prepared to unite with the rest of Italy for progress, even though it will mean change. Of course he loves his nice villa, and grand castle over at Donnafugata (which was, by the way, the inspiration for Sicilian wine producer Donnafugata's flagship red label, the Mille e Una Notte, which is very, very nice indeed). But he's also aware of the awful poverty. And the reason for it, which he shares with political emissary Don Diego (Howard Nelson Rubien), is that Sicilia has been nothing but a colony for 2500 years. Great civilisations have been hosted by it, but they've never managed to do anything independent. Now, everyone is tired, and wishes nothing more than to sleep.

It's a quite startling insight, particularly to a Siciliaphile like me, and one which makes poor old Leopard unhappy, which is why in the final 45 minute grand ball he looks more and more sad, and even sheds a tear at one point. He's also clearly thinking about his own death, but to the relief of Q & I, he makes it through the final reel.

Loved Ebert's observation about the ball: "..this long sequence in which almost none of the dialogue involves what is really happening." Derek Malcolm is also a fan, and cites the film as one of his personal best in A Century of Films.

The Leopard is of course Burt Lancaster and he has the perfect authority, but also the humanity, to realise the character of the Prince of Salina. We like him, particularly because he's a bit naughty, visiting his lady friend on the quiet, and being rather dismissive in a kindly way of his religious conscience Father Pirrone (nicely played by Romolo Valli), who needs a bath. The Prince's nephew, Tancredi (incidentally, the name of another fine red from Donnafugata), a dashing Alain Delon, runs off to join Garibaldi's men to fight for unification, then falls in love with Claudia Cardinale, a quite understandable thing to happen, particularly after she laughs so much at a dinner party that it embarrasses the other guests. This leads to the uniting (no doubt reflecting the film's main theme) of two families, one headed by an old-school but elegant aristocrat, the other by a wily, rich but unsophisticated Don Calogero Sedara, played by Paolo Stoppa, who wears the wrong sort of tails. (Sedara, by the way, is yet another excellent wine from Donnafugata. I think they must have liked the book or the film a lot!)

It is a long film and its three hours and five minutes require a lot of patience, because although a lot happens, it's more in the talky way. And looking back on it, all the scenes do need to be there, which is why Visconti was so pissed off with the American distributors when they cut most of an hour, provoking him to publish a criticism in the Sunday Times no less, in which he hoped for the return of Robespierre and the lopping off of some heads.

But things do happen slowly (apart from the Palermo battle scene, which is largely in long shot, and quite effective for that) and elegantly. Gorgeously, Giuseppe Rotunno is making the most of the locations, both inside and out (though we're still a way off Barry Lyndon in its use of real light of candles and fires) and it's scored by Nino Rota, so we know that is going to be equally good too.

It's one of those films that keeps coming back at you days later - and they're the best ones - with details like that Anubis-like dog that loves Tancredi, and the celebrated Colonel who seems full of bullshit. And how strong is Burt Lancaster's presence.

If, by the way, Tancredi's friend Count Cavriaghi, looks familiar, it's because he's played by Mario Girotti, better known to everyone but his mother as Terence Hill, from the comedy Spaghetti Westerns (e.g. My Name is Nobody).

It looks fabulous on Blu-Ray, except for the subtitles, which are often hard to read. And the glossy brochure seems not to offer an interview with Claudia Cardinale, after all.

The ruined castle at Santa Margherita Belice, Agrigento, was a favourite place of the novel's author Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa