Talcum Powder (1982): Am I Taking Crazy Pills, or Is This Actually...Good?

Okay, so I stumbled across this Italian flick, “Talcum Powder,” from '82 the other night. Never heard of it, director unknown, basically screams 'straight to the bin.' But hear me out. I'm usually the guy tearing apart whatever everyone else is praising, but there's something strangely compelling about this low-budget awkwardness. Sergio, the contract salesman, is like the anti-salesman. Pathetic, really. Utterly incapable. He basically hires Nadia to… well, I'm not sure what she does exactly, but suddenly sales happen. It’s dumb, but the uncomfortable dynamic between them is weirdly watchable. There’s this scene where Sergio tries to impress Nadia by, I don't know, miming playing the violin? And she just stares at him with this mixture of pity and vague annoyance. It's GOLD. The whole thing is so off-kilter, so far removed from the slick formulas of American cinema, that it feels almost…refreshing. It's like discovering a band no one else knows about, and they’re playing complete garbage…but somehow playing it beautifully. Does that even make sense? I'm probably just tired. Look, I'm not saying it's some cinematic revelation. The plot is thinner than my hairline, the production values are somewhere between public access and a home movie, and the ending is… well, let’s just say it doesn't exactly stick the landing. But there's a certain raw honesty to it. A lack of pretension that's almost unheard of these days. It's not slick, it's not polished, it's just…there. Existing. Being awkward and… human? So, yeah. “Talcum Powder.” I'm probably going to get roasted for this, but I kind of enjoyed it. Maybe I need to recalibrate my contrarian-o-meter. Or maybe everyone else has just been blinded by too much Hollywood gloss. Give it a watch, if you dare. If you hate it, don't come crying to me – I warned you. But if you find something strangely…endearing about it, then maybe I'm not totally insane. Maybe.