Alright, rewind your minds with me for a second. Picture this: you’re wandering the aisles of the local video store, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the scent of plastic and popcorn in the air. You bypass the new releases, heading straight for the slightly dustier shelves, maybe the foreign comedy section if your store was cool enough to have one. And there it is – a cover promising sun, sand, and probably some ridiculous situations. You grab it, maybe because the name sounded intriguing, or maybe because it just looked different. That’s the feeling Carlo Vanzina’s 1995 Italian comedy Savages (or Selvaggi as it was originally titled) evokes. It wasn't a blockbuster that everyone talked about, but finding it felt like uncovering a slightly chaotic, sun-drenched secret.
Paradise Lost... and Found Hilarious
The setup is pure, distilled escapism gone delightfully wrong. A diverse group of Italian tourists – think every possible stereotype bundled onto one luxurious yacht for a Caribbean cruise – find themselves shipwrecked on a deserted island after a sudden storm. We’ve got the perpetually stressed Milanese executive (Ezio Greggio, already a massive TV star in Italy with his iconic Striscia la notizia gig, bringing that manic energy here), the flamboyant homosexual hairdresser (Leo Gullotta, a fantastic character actor stealing scenes), the bickering Roman couple (Antonello Fassari and Cinzia Leone), the vain models, the quiet doctor, and so on. It’s a veritable Noah's Ark of neurotic vacationers suddenly forced to ditch the designer luggage and figure out how to crack a coconut without calling room service.
What follows isn't exactly Lord of the Flies; it's more like Gilligan's Island filtered through a distinctly Italian lens, heavy on the gags, misunderstandings, and simmering tensions played purely for laughs. The Vanzina brothers, Carlo directing and co-writing with his brother Enrico (sons of the legendary director Steno, comedy was literally in their blood), knew exactly what they were doing. They specialized in these ensemble vacation comedies – films often dubbed "cinepanettoni" because they traditionally hit Italian cinemas around Christmas, delivering reliable laughs and reflecting contemporary Italian society (or at least, broad caricatures of it). Savages arrived a bit earlier, in autumn '95, but it fit the mold perfectly.
Location, Location, Complication!
Forget CGI vistas. The appeal here is the tangible reality of their predicament, amplified by the gorgeous but challenging location shooting. The turquoise waters and white sands weren't conjured in a computer; the cast and crew were actually sweating it out, primarily on Cayo Largo del Sur in Cuba, with additional scenes shot in the Dominican Republic. Filming in Cuba during the mid-90s wasn't exactly a walk in the park, facing logistical hurdles thanks to the ongoing US embargo and the general state of infrastructure. You can almost feel the humidity and the grit beneath the glossy comedic surface. This reliance on real places, real heat, and real discomfort (presumably!) grounds the absurdity in a way that slicker, more synthetic productions often miss. The "special effects" here are the actors reacting to their environment and each other, not digital trickery.
The comedy is broad, relying heavily on the clash of personalities and the fish-out-of-water scenario. Ezio Greggio’s character trying to maintain his corporate authority while wearing rags, Leo Gullotta’s attempts to bring fabulousness to survival, the constant bickering – it’s all played at high volume. Some jokes definitely feel very 1995, landing with a bit of a thud now, particularly some of the gender dynamics or stereotypes. But there's an undeniable energy to it, a commitment to the chaos that keeps things moving. It’s interesting to note that the film was a significant hit in Italy, reportedly costing around 7 billion lire (roughly €3.6 million then) and pulling in over 12 billion lire (around €6.2 million), proving the Vanzinas had their finger firmly on the pulse of the domestic audience.
Surviving the Rewind
Watching Savages today is like uncorking a time capsule. The fashion, the attitudes, the sheer un-PC nature of some gags – it’s all there. But beneath the surface-level silliness and stereotypes, there’s a certain charm. It’s a reminder of a time when ensemble comedies didn't need overly complex plots or profound messages; they just needed a relatable (if exaggerated) bunch of characters thrown into an outrageous situation, preferably somewhere sunny. The Vanzina brothers were masters of this formula, churning out crowd-pleasers that, while perhaps not high art, captured a specific moment and mood. Look closely and you might even spot a very young Megan Gale, the future Australian supermodel, among the castaways!
Does every joke land? Definitely not. Is it sophisticated satire? Hardly. But is it a fun, breezy, occasionally laugh-out-loud watch that perfectly captures the spirit of finding a slightly obscure foreign comedy on VHS back in the day? Absolutely. It doesn't ask much of the viewer beyond settling in for some lightweight tropical mayhem.
VHS Heaven Rating: 6/10
Justification: Savages is pure, unadulterated 90s Italian mainstream comedy. It delivers exactly what it promises: stereotypes clashing in paradise, broad gags, and sunny locations. It's dated in parts, and the humour won't be for everyone, but the energy, the committed performances (especially from Gullotta and Greggio), and the genuine location work give it a nostalgic charm. It was a domestic hit for a reason, capturing a specific cultural moment, even if it didn't travel widely. It loses points for the sometimes cringey dated elements and lack of depth, but gains points for sheer Vanzina-brand escapism and being a solid example of its specific genre and era.
Final Take: Forget survival skills, this crew packed pure 90s chaos. A fluffy, frantic, and undeniably Italian escape pod back to the days when comedies just wanted you to laugh at people arguing prettily on a beach. Worth digging out if you find a copy buried in that metaphorical bargain bin.