This is yet another foreign film where no one explodes, speaks English or tries (at the very least) to sleep with a serial killer. Man! When will they learn? People don't go into movie theaters to read. If I want to read, I'll stay at home with one of those magazines I buy only for the articles.
In "Il Postino," it's 1952 and the unemployed son of an Italian fisherman decides to take up a job as the personal postman to the exiled Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda. When the postman falls in love with a town beauty he tries to get Neruda to help him woo the girl. Neruda reads him a poem titled "My personal postman reminds me of a yummy piece of spongy veal glistening with pineapple bits" and then stabs the postman in the forehead with his fork and eats him.
Well, that's what should have happened but, instead, Neruda does help him and the characters share a lot of tender moments interwoven with sociopolitical messages about the nature of compassion. Well, bully for them. As long as we're having so much fun, let's quote Plato and write a thesis on Goethe.
One might attribute this film's multiple Academy Award nominations to the fact that Massimo Troisi, the man who played the postman, died just as the film was finished (he had been sick throughout the production). I, however, attribute it to the fact that the people who nominate the films for the Academy Awards can't read and they probably thought that the subtitles were actually some kind of clever special effect they had never seen before.
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