Ten years before Francis Coppola's "The Godfather," Italian neorealist Alberto Lattuada created a remarkable film with what, at the time, was considered a shocking title, "Mafioso." Although most of it was shot in Sicily, the heart-shaped island where the idea of a crime family is alleged to have been born, the picture is more comic than dramatic. Its tone and rhythm seem everchanging, leading to one very believable surprise after another.

I can't even offer a guess as to why such a cinematic gem has been hidden from the viewing public, including chroniclers such as Leonard Maltin, for 45 years. It certainly deserves to stand beside the best examples of comic realism, like Fellini's "Nights of Cabiria" and the later "Amarcord." And in its own way, Lattuada's film is as touchingly personal as Vittorio De Sica's "Umberto D."

The picture is expressively shot in black and white by Armando Nannuzzi, who captures the parched terrains and structures in Sicily as well as the exciting boulevards of Milan and Manhattan. Lattuada's editing also is sharp and quickly pulsing, giving the changing story its swift pace. Lasting just over an hour and a half, it seems much shorter.

But the elements that give "Mafioso" its special personality mostly are provided by the lead actor, Alberto Sordi. As Antonio Badalamenti, husband and father of two daughters, Sordi demonstrates impressive range through his reactions to each of the various environments in which he finds himself.

As a supervisor in the massive Fiat automobile factory, he wears a spotless white coat as he walks through aisle after aisle of potentially dangerous machine activity, observing and monitoring assembly line precision, or lack thereof. He stops only when he sees carelessness or lapses in judgment. His workers accept his criticism.

He knows how to suck up to his own boss, a stoic man with American connections who directs him to carry a parcel to a man they both know, who lives in Calamo, the Sicilian town to which Antonio will vacation with his family. The intended recipient is Don Vincenzo (Ugo Attanasio), a man of great importance, to whom both Antonio and his boss apparently owe something.

'Don' enters lexicon

From our perspective, looking back through four decades of films about organized crime, there's no doubt as to what the "Don" signifies.

That sinister subtext, echoed in various references to Calamo residents who dodged bullets, and some who didn't, isn't fully dealt with until the final portion of the film. Rialto Films, the distributor, has asked all reviewers of the film to withhold information about that portion.

But the bulk of the film follows Antonio, called "Nino" by his old friends in Calamo, happily re-acquainting himself with his birthplace, whose culture has changed very little in comparison with the fast-paced world of Milan. Women constantly wear black in the arid, remote village. Antonio's wife, Marta (Norma Bengeli), dressed in bright prints, gets nothing but cold stares from them, especially when she refuses to eat black spaghetti or lights a cigarette at the dinner table.

She eventually warms up to them, and they to her, as they realize they have more in common than initially thought. In fact, when Marta rids sister-in-law Rosalia (Gabriella Conti) of her mustache and other excessive body hair, the whole extended family celebrates.

Sordi's exuberance as Nino sometimes reminded me of the wild reaction by Roberto Benigni at the 1998 Oscar ceremony. But more often he mixes in wit and subtlety, demonstrating he's closer to Peter Sellers in style.

"Mafioso" is excellent in all its variety, a fine example of postwar Italian neorealism even as it ventures into areas of absurdity, social drama and farce. Movie addicts of every sort will savor this one.

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