Finally We Meat
For the last four years, I've gone to sleep with and woken up beside Sophia Loren. More specifically: a life-sized poster of the actress and a giant sausage from the film La Mortadella hangs across her bed. The only thing crazier than the plot of the absurdist 1971 movie is the fact that I've never seen it—until now.
In 2020, I didn’t bake bread or cook beans, but I did make an effort to decorate my apartment. Like a lot of people, I spent many nights scrolling through resale and secondhand sites, looking for art to brighten up the space that I was suddenly trapped in. One day, I came across a poster on eBay for a 1971 film called La Mortadella starring Sophia Loren. It caught my eye for two reasons: Firstly because Loren and her large brown eyes are gorgeous. And secondly, the poster hilariously features a large, phallic piece of meat, which she stares at mischievously. I imagined it hanging somewhere in my kitchen, greeting guests when they walked in the door.
Before adding the poster to my cart—I think it cost about $300—I figured I should do a little research first, since I’d never heard of La Mortadella or its English title, Lady Liberty, before. The plot summary on Wikipedia reads as follows:
Maddalena Ciarrapico arrives in New York City from Italy to get married and brings her fiancé a gift of mortadella (“large Italian pork sausage”) from her co-workers at the sausage factory where she used to work. But she is refused permission to bring the mortadella into the country because of the ban on meat which may contain food-borne diseases. An indignant Maddalena refuses to hand the sausage over, staying in the customs office at the airport, sparking a diplomatic incident in which she attracts widespread sympathy and support.
Sold. The premise was so simple and yet so ridiculous: mortadella sparking a “diplomatic incident” in New York? I purchased the poster without a second thought and eagerly awaited its arrival. When it finally came, though, I found myself gagged once again: I’d been so caught up in the movie’s plot, that I’d failed to look at the dimensions of the poster: 56 inches by 41 inches. It was about as tall as I am. The mortadella itself measures almost three feet in length and a foot in girth.
There was no returning it, though, and it didn’t matter because I was in love. When the framer told me how much it would cost to put Loren and her mortadella behind glass, I looked into her eyes and said: whatever it takes. She currently hangs on the wall across from my bed—the only wall big enough—and is the first thing I see when I open my eyes and the last thing I see before I close them.
After living with La Mortadella for three years, I’d still never seen the movie, though. I was afraid that it would ruin it—that it could never live up to its poster, or that it was somehow cancelable. But on a rainy day this winter, I decided to put it on finally. Thank Goddess, it lived up to the hype.
The film begins with Loren’s character, Maddalena, getting off the plane in New York with a mortadella the size of a small child cradled in her arms. When she’s told she can’t bring meat into the country, she replies in the most Italian way: by saying that this is a “stupid rule,” and therefore not worth following. Maddalena’s fiancé, who came to America before her, tries to talk some sense into her. Is it worth sacrificing everything for a hunk of meat? But this only makes Maddalena more upset. The man she fell in love with back in Italy was a socialist who stood up for what he believed in! Not some narc who cowered to the law. And just like that, she tells him the wedding is off.
Of course, the beautiful Maddalena then becomes the object of affection for just about everyone in the customs office, including a journalist who makes her plight front page news. A civil rights activist played by Danny DiVito then gets involved (yes, Danny DiVito); people are arrested and taken to the hospital; there’s lots of shouting and breaking of things; Maddalena does a musical number; and we’re even introduced to a hippie named Mr. Wildflower who photographs women’s butts.
La Mortadella is truly a trip. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’m not sure I ever will again. I won’t give away the ending, but if you’re in the mood for a ridiculous romp with Italian subtitles, I suggest you make yourself a plate of cured meat and curl up with this delicious film.
Family Style No. 5
It's Not Me, It's You
Spring 2025
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