My former film-school professor, after seeing my name attached to reviews of such gems as "THE RATS ARE COMING! THE WEREWOLVES ARE HERE!" can finally take the bag off his head, as I have been gifted with the opportunity to present a film enshrined in the annals of classic European cinema, which showcases the individual visions of four legendary Italian filmmakers, and became one of the most successful European pictures of the '60s. But it's also a film about large breasts, so perhaps my motivation here is not entirely aesthetic.

Produced by Carlo Ponti (BLOW-UP), this anthology posits an interesting thematic idea: what kind of stories would Giovanni Boccaccio (author of "The Decameron") write were he alive in 1970? Putting aside the fact that it was nowhere near 1970, and that the stories presented have little or nothing to do with Boccaccio's works, BOCCACCIO '70 serves more as a kind of cinematic salad bar, in which tasty samplings can be taken from the creative spirits of Federico Fellini, Luchino Visconti, Vittorio De Sica and Mario Monicelli - four tastes that taste great together. It also helped to launch the popular trend of anthology films throughout Europe that covered many genres and persisted throughout the '60s and into the '70s (my personal favorite being SPIRITS OF THE DEAD, a Poe adaptation featuring Fellini's masterpiece "Toby Dammit.") The American release was, for many, the first stateside exposure to the works of three talented artists - and to the abundant charms of its female stars.

Act I, "Renzo e Luciana," directed by Monicelli (LA GRANDE GUERRA) was previously excised from American release prints of the film, and is finally returned to its rightful place. Admittedly, if the distributors saw the need to cut the 3½-hour running time down a bit, this segment was the only one that I might have considered expendable, but it's still a cute story. In short, "R & L" tells the bittersweet story of two young employees in a massive, Orwellian cookie factory who secretly get married despite strict company policy against married co-workers. This sets in motion a tragicomic series of deceptions from the two in an effort to hide their relationship from Luciana's nosy (and hilariously doughy-looking) supervisor. Although arguably the weakest chapter, it does feature some of the film's most memorable scenes, namely a surreal episode at a public swimming facility where the two newlyweds try desperately to spend a few precious moments together before her boss comes bouncing along to show just how horrifying a pudgy man can look in a too-small bathing suit.

The second act, "Le Tentazioni del Dottor Antonio" (The Temptation of Doctor Antonio), is the crown jewel of the whole ensemble, and a taste of the always-amusing Fellini at his absolute peak. It tells the sardonic morality tale of the title character (Peppini de Filippo), a self-declared protector of public virtue who spends nearly every waking moment loudly declaring his disgust at the moral decadence of modern-day Rome. Dr. Antonio is the kind of would-be censor who shines a spotlight into cars on lovers' lane, storms onto burlesque stages demanding that the girls cover themselves, and slaps a buxom young woman for daring to show cleavage in public. His worst nightmare (or perhaps his repressed fantasy?) literally comes to life in the form of an enormous billboard featuring the gloriously stacked Anita Ekberg (of Fellini's LA DOLCE VITA) encouraging passers-by to "Drink More Milk" (accompanied by an annoying little jingle that plays relentlessly throughout the piece). The Doctor's tireless attempts to have the sign removed provoke the model to step out of the picture - all 50 feet of her - and begin stalking him, Godzilla-like, through the nighttime streets, finally picking him up like a doll and stuffing him between her Volkswagen-sized breasts. (No, this is not me imprinting my own fantasies on this review, you sick bastards. Go buy the DVD and see for yourself!) Words fail me in describing how deliriously amusing this segment is - but rest assured, it packs more fun and charm in its 50 minutes than the rest of the film put together.

Visconti's installment, "Il Lavoro" (The Job), was a bit of a bring-down for me - considering what came before it, of course, and also because I'm not that big a fan of Visconti (except for THE DAMNED, which was really twisted). But it's still an excellent example of the director's trademark - attractive-looking, character-driven comedy -which serves as a counterpoint to the broad farce of the other segments. It stars Romy Schneider as a bored socialite who spends nearly all of her time reclining languidly around the lavish apartment of her wealthy beau (Tomas Milian), who has a particular fondness for prostitutes. In frustration, Schneider concocts an interesting scheme to keep him at home - and grab a substantial amount of cash in the process. This film is, in my view, typical Visconti: slow-moving, stylishly beautiful, and coldly aloof. Schneider, however, is excellent, and truly carries the piece (and provides the film's only fleeting moment of actual nudity!).

The final chapter, "La Riffa" (The Raffle), is directed by De Sica (THE BICYCLE THIEF), and serves as a bodacious bookend to the film, thanks to the divine loveliness of Sophia Loren at her most ravishing. A light, breezy little sex romp that adopts the carnival atmosphere of its setting, this is another opportunity, much like Fellini's installment, to experience the joy of cinema while blatantly staring at huge boobies. Loren plays saucy gypsy girl Zoe, who runs the shooting gallery at the carnival and shares a caravan with her pregnant friend. In an effort to raise money to care for the baby - and maybe find a way out of the carny circuit - she makes a deal with a sleazy stockyard foreman, who wants to make her the prize in his own illegal raffle, which is tied to the national lottery numbers: the owner of the lucky ticket gets to spend a hot night with Zoe. Needless to say, she's uncomfortable with the arrangement - but not as much as her handsome but high-strung boyfriend. This is a fun, festive little number that, as I've mentioned, is also a prolonged excuse for Sophia to remove her top, which she does on no less than three occasions - the most blatant of which is a scene wherein her red shirt enrages a rampaging bull, and she is forced to strip to save herself from being trampled. Sure, it's exploitation - but it's artistically sound exploitation. Right? Okay, so it's about as politically correct as a '70s cheerleader flick. But I'll take the bountiful charms of Anita and Sophia over the latest stick-figure teen-pop skank any day. And only in an Italian film would you see a spontaneous street parade, complete with marching band, solely to commemorate a nerdy guy allegedly getting laid.

Long absent from home video (at least in any decent presentation), BOCCACCIO '70 gets a respectful and top-notch treatment in this 2-disc set from No Shame Films, restoring the full-length Italian release print with a transfer from the original interpositive. The image is bright and gorgeous, though the colors are a bit muted in the first and third segments due to the film stocks used. Fellini's segment is replete with his trademark candy colors, and De Sica's chapter is rich with the palette of the carnival (namely Sophia's red shirt - did I mention she takes it off three times?). Clear and resonant digital mono is available in the Italian and English-dubbed tracks (except for Act I, which was never included in the English-language release), and good English subs are provided. The dubbed version is adequate, but pales next to the original language (which, admittedly, is also dubbed, as Italian films of the period were shot silent and post-synched), since we get to hear most of the original actors' voices.

Extras are light, but interesting - particularly a well-worn clip of the intertitles from the American release, which of course excludes chapter I and features a quaint, animated greeting-card style production design. Trailers for both versions of the film are provided, as well as a substantial photo gallery and a brief clip from an Italian newsreel featuring Loren and De Sica, who explains that the "Raffle" episode was based on a real-life incident. Also included is a hefty booklet filled with promotional art and liner notes.

Not only can this tasty little biscotti of a film finally be appreciated by connoisseurs of classic Euro-cinema, but hopefully it will attract a new generation of fans who may only have heard about films like this in stuffy, elite circles. For you latecomers, don't let the film's vintage or the preponderance of vowels in the directors' names dissuade you from a really fun experience. And really, it's okay to give in and look at the breasts.