Institutions That Protect Themselves First

Read Time:6 Minute, 26 Second

MOVIE REVIEW
Illustrious Corpses [Limited Edition] (Cadaveri eccellenti)
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Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Political Drama
Year Released: 1976, Radiance Films Blu-ray 2026
Runtime: 2h 0m
Director(s): Francesco Rosi
Writer(s): Francesco Rosi, Tonino Guerra, Lino Iannuzzi; based on the novel by Leonardo Sciascia
Cast: Lino Ventura, Max von Sydow, Fernando Rey, Charles Vanel, Luigi Pistilli
Where to Watch: available January 27, 2026, pre-order your copy here: www.radiancefilms.co.uk, www.mvdshop.com, or www.amazon.com

RAVING REVIEW: What happens when the institutions meant to protect truth decide that truth itself has become inconvenient? (sound familiar?) ILLUSTROUS CORPSES opens with that question hanging heavy in the air, and it never lets the audience forget it. From its earliest moments, Francesco Rosi’s film makes clear that this isn’t a mystery interested in easy answers or comforting resolutions. It’s a procedural that treats procedure as theater, and a thriller that understands the most frightening forces are rarely the ones you expect or the most visible villains.

On its surface, the setup is misleadingly routine. A series of Supreme Court judges are murdered, and Inspector Amerigo Rogas is assigned to investigate. Lino Ventura plays Rogas with a restrained, almost defiant stillness. He isn’t a hotheaded crusader or a cynical burnout. He’s a professional who believes, perhaps naively, that careful observation and persistence still matter. That belief becomes the film’s pulse, because ILLUSTROUS CORPSES is less about solving crimes than about watching that belief slowly erode under pressure.

Rosi’s direction is patient to the point of simplicity, but never inert. The camera observes spaces with the same attention it gives people. Government offices, apartments, churches, and barren landscapes all feel complicit in what’s unfolding. There’s an insistence on geography here, on the idea that power leaves physical traces. When Rogas walks through these environments, he doesn’t dominate them. He’s dwarfed by them, framed as a figure moving through systems that existed long before him and will persist long after he’s gone.

What separates ILLUSTROUS CORPSES from many political thrillers of its era is its refusal to flatter the audience. Information is delivered in sprinklings, often through conversations that feel deliberately incomplete. Characters speak around the truth rather than directly to it. Fernando Rey’s Security Minister and Max von Sydow’s Supreme Court President embody this perfectly. Both men project authority, but their words are carefully calibrated performances. Von Sydow, in particular, uses stillness as a weapon. His presence suggests certainty without accountability, a man so insulated by power that he no longer needs to justify himself.

The film’s structure mirrors its themes. What begins as a procedural investigation gradually mutates into something more abstract and unsettling. Leads don’t converge so much as dissolve. Each answer introduces a larger, more troubling question. Rosi isn’t interested in the mechanics of conspiracy as much as its psychology. The real tension comes from watching Rogas realize that uncovering the truth may not only fail to stop the violence but also actively endanger him.

Lino Ventura’s performance anchors this descent with remarkable control. He underplays almost everything, which makes the moments where doubt and frustration surface feel earned. Ventura gives Rogas a moral weight that never turns sentimental. He isn’t framed as a martyr or a hero. He’s simply someone who refuses to look away, even when looking costs him clarity, safety, and eventually faith. That refusal becomes quietly radical in a world designed to reward compliance.

Piero Piccioni’s score deserves special mention for how sparingly it’s used. The music doesn’t push emotion or underline danger. Instead, it drifts in like an unwelcome thought, reinforcing the film’s sense of unease without dictating how the audience should feel. Silence is just as important here. Many scenes offer the audience no musical guidance, forcing viewers to sit with the discomfort of what’s being implied rather than explicitly shown.

While deeply rooted in the political climate of 1970s Italy, the film’s concerns feel disturbingly contemporary. Its depiction of institutions closing ranks, of narratives being shaped for public consumption, and of truth treated as a liability rather than a virtue resonates far beyond its immediate context. Rosi doesn’t preach about these ideas. He presents them as lived realities, embedded in everyday interactions and bureaucratic rituals.

The ending, famously bleak, refuses to reframe the story as a cautionary tale with answers. Instead, it lands as an indictment. There’s no catharsis, no victorious exposure of wrongdoing. What remains is the unsettling realization that systems built on secrecy and self-preservation don’t collapse just because one person tells the truth. That refusal to soften its conclusion is what elevates ILLUSTROUS CORPSES from a strong political thriller to something more enduring and unsettling.

Radiance Films’ Blu-ray presentation underscores the film’s lasting significance. The restoration brings out the texture of Rosi’s compositions without polishing away their severity. Grain remains intact, and colors are subdued but focused. The included extras, particularly the archival interviews and new commentary, deepen appreciation for Rosi’s intent without reframing the work through nostalgia.

ILLUSTROUS CORPSES isn’t a film that invites easy admiration. It asks to be wrestled with. Its power lies not in exhibition or plot twists, but in the accumulation of dread as truth becomes increasingly dangerous. Rosi understood that political horror doesn’t need monsters or excess. It only requires people who’ve decided that preserving power matters more than maintaining justice. That understanding is what makes this film feel as vital now as it did nearly fifty years ago.

Bonus Materials:
4K restoration of the film by Cineteca di Bologna at L’Immagine Ritrovata and The Film Foundation
Original uncompressed mono PCM audio
Audio commentary by filmmaker Alex Cox (2021)
Archival interview with director Francesco Rosi (1976)
Archival interview with Francesco Rosi and Lino Ventura (1976)
New interview with Gaetana Marrone, author of The Cinema of Francesco Rosi (2025)
Trailer
Gallery
Optional English subtitles
Reversible sleeve featuring designs based on original posters
Limited edition booklet featuring new writing on the film by Michael Atkinson, and newly translated writing by and interview with Rosi
Limited edition of 3000 copies, presented in full-height Scanavo packaging with removable OBI strip, leaving packaging free of certificates and markings

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[photo courtesy of RADIANCE FILMS, MVD ENTERTAINMENT]

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