On the threshold of the most complicated decades in modern Italian history, Petri’s career took a new turn. His hitherto rather existential take on the fundamentals of life in a country returning to normalcy after its wartime sufferings – in part self-inflicted – begins to shift, taking on a fiercely political dimension. Like his peer Francesco Rosi, Petri seeks to lay bare the structures of power and expose the sophisticated tactics of corruption. His style, however, is more extreme, more spontaneous, more neurotic. The mode in which Petri feels most at home builds on the foundations of the grotesque grimace, of the cynicism of black comedy, and of bold stylization. The protagonist of his best-known film is the head of the homicide division, a man who dispatches his decadent lover in cold blood. At the scene of the crime he plants a variety of incriminating evidence against himself in order to show that he is untouchable. He couldn’t care less whether he comes under suspicion or not. His twisted purpose is to consolidate his absolute authority by destroying the boundary dividing the executors of the law from the law itself. Even after 45 years, this Oscar-winning picture retains its full impact on the viewer, not only through longtime Petri collaborators at the top of their game (actor Gian Maria Volonté, composer Ennio Morricone, and DOP Luigi Kuveiller) – there is also its shockingly durable topic: corrupt guardians of the law and their abuse of power.