There’s no more perfect song to open a movie than Rosemary Clooney’s Mambo Italiano in Jonathan Demme’s Married to the Mob. It’s a delightful nonsense song that mimics Cuban mambo music while spilling out lyrics that are about as authentically Italian as a suburban Olive Garden. It’s Demme’s way of announcing that his gangster comedy will be a zesty, multicultural puttanesca that may evoke The Godfather and other genre standards, but mostly indulges in the cartoon kitsch of Long Island goombahs. The film that follows isn’t quite a parody, a spoof or a satire. It’s merely an unmitigated joy from start to finish.
There are so many fun touches around the edges of Married to the Mob – the colorful production design, the expertly curated new wave soundtrack, the endless gallery of big and supporting players – but as Angela de Marco, a housewife fed up with her two-timing gangster husband and the hornet’s nest of gossipy mob wives, Michelle Pfeiffer holds everything together. She had shown some comedic flair in earlier films such as Into the Night and The Witches of Eastwick, but as with Melanie Griffith in Demme’s previous feature, Something Wild, Pfeiffer seizes the opportunity to impose a fresh confidence and charisma in the lead role. Her Angela is determined and street smart, but also eager to break out and have a good time, which is not something a mob wife numbed by Valium is permitted to do.
