One thing this film taught me—pretty much every woman in Rome (under 60) looks good, and almost all of them are down to fuck.
Or perhaps that’s just the way lead character Gianni Di Gregorio sees it at this point in his life, and like most things too-good-to-be-true, that doesn’t turn out to be the case. Maybe it’s the type of shit when you’re in a relationship; women seem more accessible, and more interested. So you figure, fuck….if anything goes wrong here, it’s not gonna be so bad out there. But the moment you make a move, you feel transparent, as if all the opportunity suddenly dried up; like the world is one step ahead of you and no matter what you do you’re always late to the party. So you float around; from woman to woman, date to date, bottle to bottle (the alcohol kind, not the baby kind…though I’m open to most fetishism); the repetition of life starts to eat at you and soon it feels as if the only ones willing to accept you for who you are, are your cigarettes.