The strongest recommendation leads to Fernando Di Leo and to a world of criminals who distrust one another. Italian crime cinema is not limited to the inspector who breaks the rules.
A recommendation set in Venice
Quentin Tarantino's enthusiasm for Milano calibro 9, released in 1972 and directed by Fernando Di Leo, has a clearly identifiable public context. A Cinematografo report published during the Venice Mostra in 2004 recounts his interest in the retrospective of Italian genre cinema and in carrying on talking about the film after seeing it again. Decades later, the San Sebastian Film Festival presentation of 2024 also records his extraordinarily favourable view of the film.
That is a firmer basis than putting together ten violent Italian films and assuming they all receive the same approval. Venice allows us to date a specific viewing activity; the San Sebastian entry documents the public durability of that praise. Neither reference constitutes a complete ranking of poliziotteschi. The safe choice for beginning this journey is therefore Milan Calibre 9.
The name of the cycle deserves clarification. Poliziotteschi is commonly used for Italian crime cinema of the 1970s, but within it coexist films centred on police officers, criminals and citizens who turn into vigilantes. Di Leo gives particular attention to the hierarchies of crime. Entering through his work does not mean always finding a heroic inspector chasing an unambiguous villain.
What to watch for in Milan Calibre 9
The story places Ugo Piazza, played by Gastone Moschin, at its centre after he leaves prison. His old circle suspects that he knows more than he is saying about missing money. The premise creates a pressure different from conventional investigation: the protagonist has no neutral space in which to tell his side of the story. Every interlocutor tries to size him up, intimidate him or uncover a contradiction.
Moschin's restraint organises much of the suspense. His body seems to bear questions that the story still does not allow to be answered. The viewer shares with the other characters the problem of interpreting a face that gives away little information, but does not necessarily share their interests. That distance makes identification unstable: accompanying Ugo does not mean knowing who he is, or guaranteeing that he deserves our trust.
Mario Adorf brings in an opposing energy. His verbal and physical outbursts make visible the violence of a system that can change mood without changing purpose. The confrontation between a restrained character and an expansive one keeps the tension alive even when no one shoots. In this cinema, a conversation about money can work as a prolonged assault: what matters is who manages to impose the meaning of what has happened.
The urban space is not an interchangeable backdrop either. Movements between leisure spots, business interiors and meeting places sketch a city crossed by interests. The question of money leads to questions of loyalty and power. Crime is presented as an organised activity, with intermediaries and obligations, even though its participants speak in personal threats.
From a critical reading of my own, one of the film's attractions lies in that imbalance between speed and waiting. There is action and there are blows, but the story needs a suspicion to remain unresolved. Watching it solely in search of chases can leave out its most persistent mechanism: forcing the characters to live with insufficient information. Violence punishes bodies; uncertainty shapes all their decisions.
Broadening the journey without making up a Tarantino list
La mala ordina, also from 1972, and Il boss, from 1973, allow us to continue through Di Leo's crime cinema. Together with Milano calibro 9 they form the set known as the milieu trilogy. They are not three chapters of the same adventure that need to be watched in order to solve an unfinished plot. Their relationship makes it possible to compare ways of representing criminal organisation, its enforcers and its victims.
This extension is a viewing suggestion based on the director's work, not the transcription of Tarantino's personal list. The difference avoids attributing to a statement about one film the content of two others. It also helps to grasp the scope of the term poliziottesco: in these stories, observing the world of crime from within can matter more than following the person trying to stop it.
To choose a screening, Milano calibro 9 works well on its own. Afterwards it may be interesting to contrast its closed-off protagonist with the power relations in the other films. There is no need to know in advance all the later references to Di Leo in order to understand it. Its characters, tension and endings have their own logic, predating the admiration of American filmmakers.
Cinephile rediscovery is valuable when it leads from a famous name to a specific film. In this case, Tarantino's enthusiasm opens the door; watching it allows you to decide whether Moschin's dryness, Adorf's aggression or the way a transaction turns into a threat appeal to you. That decision belongs to the viewer and does not require adopting the recommender's judgement as an obligation.
Back to Tarantino recommendations by genre.