The Tiger and the Snow review

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I always enjoy the NY Times movie reviews, which can be quite entertaining when the reviewer dislikes a film.
War may be hell, but for Roberto Benigni it’s just another romantic comedy waiting to be filmed. Having already mined the Holocaust and surfaced with three Academy Awards, this gnomic Italian superstar has turned his attention to the Iraq war with “The Tiger and the Snow,” a scorching affront to Italians, Iraqis and the intelligence of movie audiences everywhere.
Mr. Benigni, essentially the same character in all his movies, here plays Attilio, a lovesick poetry professor whose teaching relies heavily on capering hysteria and nonsensical aphorisms. (“To convey pain, you must be happy!”) When not deflecting the improbable attentions of a gorgeous colleague — Mr. Benigni’s movies, like those of Woody Allen, hum with lust for women way out of his league — Attilio is stalking Vittoria (Nicoletta Braschi), a researcher whose tolerance for matchstick legs and manic narcissism apparently knows no bounds.
Featuring Tom Waits as a wedding singer and Jean Reno as an Arab poet, “The Tiger and the Snow” contains too little logic and far too much of Mr. Benigni in his underwear.
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