In the sleepy Sicilian village of Palermo, a peculiar game of cat and mouse between cops and mobsters is afoot. But this isn't your typical mafia flick - it's more of an amusing romp with a literary twist.  

Tony Servillo stars as Catello Palumbo, a recently released ex-con who juggled multiple roles in town: school headmaster, mayor, and lapdog to the local don Gaetano (Rosario Palazzolo). With his ironic smirk and penchant for classic quotes, Servillo brings levity to even the darkest scenes. Palumbo's incarceration left him penniless, as Gaetano's once-thriving business has dried up. The remaining gang members are desperate for cash and ready to off anyone who rats them out. Meanwhile, Gaetano's successor Matteo (Elio Germano) is hiding in a secret bookshelf chamber of a former mob wife's apartment, keeping himself entertained with jigsaw puzzles. 

The police investigators are a motley crew of bullies and plotters led by the stone-faced straight-shooter Rita Mancuso (Daniela Mara). They hatch an idea: using Palumbo's friendship with Gaetano and godfather status to help them find Matteo. Little do they know, Matteo yearns for a different life beyond family, church, and drug-running. 

The stage is set for misunderstandings, dangerous liaisons, and the exchange of meticulously folded letters carried by Palumbo's devoted family servant. At first, Palumbo offers to take a fatherly interest in his middle-aged godson at the investigators' behest, penning the notes with his own flowery literary flair. Matteo responds in kind, leading the police to question Palumbo until he explains that prisoners were the last people still reading books. 

There are many such witty observations and bon mots thrown about like streamers - this film has drunk deep from the cup of loquacity and now demands close attention to subtitles. The celebration of literature serves to soften any nagging sense that we're in the company of truly evil men, reinforced by sepia-toned interiors with darkened windows, sheep sheds lit only by candlelight, and the picturesque stone village. There's something perversely fanciful about it all. 

We see the remaining clan members meeting in black hoods, a strange decorative ritual where Palumbo fears he'll be exposed as an informant. Matteo is obsessed with a Doric statue his father hid down a well - this film's Maltese Falcon. Meanwhile, the camera seems completely deranged, especially during the setup of the story, lurching from sky to earth or zooming at warp speed through barns. In one moment that reminds us this is indeed a mob movie, Inspector Mancuso questions whether the local police ever wanted to catch Matteo in the first place. 

It's a fair point - their drug trade economy is far away, and passing through beautiful scenery with Servillo's amiable companionship, you could be forgiven for thinking Sicily as it should be: all's right with the world under the godfather's watchful eye. But don't get too comfortable - this film flips convention on its head. Sicilian Letters is a mob movie that celebrates literature and keeps you guessing until

The Godfather's Epistles: A Mob Tale With a Twist

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