Given Italy's shameful record of allowing the wholesale slaughter of just about everything with wings, it's ironic that the only movie (outside of Disney) with a talking crow as one of its leads should have been made by Pasolini. Unsurprisingly, it's a mess. Its human leads, comedian Totò and Ninetto Davoli, take double roles: as a father and son discussing politics and philosophy as they wander a bleakly absurd landscape, and - in a parable told them by a wise Marxist crow they meet - as two hapless disciples of St Francis, sent forth to convert the hawks and their feathered prey to the Christian ideal of universal love. Intended as a darkly comic allegory on class conflict and the injustice of the world, the film looks and sounds good (the music, including sung opening credits, is by Morricone), but suffers throughout from obscure whimsicality. The crow's performance is the best thing in it.