Few soundtracks in Ennio Morricone’s prolific oeuvre pulse with such artful duplicity as Ruba al prossimo tuo, where the presence of Bruno Nicolai and Edda Dell'Orso proves pivotal to the album’s atmospheric power. For Francesco Maselli’s mid-sixties heist-comedy, Morricone conjures not eclectic miscellany, but a dazzling monothematic suite—one melody metamorphosed across sly bossa novas, staccato orchestration, and luxurious strings. Here, Nicolai’s conducting sharpens the ensemble’s wit and precision, molding each motif into new psychological contours: strings slither, brass erupts, percussion teases out both the velvet and the malaise behind the film’s duplicities.​

Within this luminous architecture, Edda Dell'Orso’s voice glides—her wordless soprano weaving through the arrangements, catalyzing moods from delicate seduction to fragile suspense. Her contributions animate Morricone’s motifs with an ineffable magic, becoming both a human instrument and a restless force of narrative ambiguity. If the soundtrack swings through smoky jazz, romantic intrigue, or moments of sly flamenco, every texture is unified by Dell’Orso’s ethereal timbre and Nicolai’s careful hand, never letting suspense or sweetness tip too far into cliché.​

Taken as a whole, Ruba al prossimo tuo is no mere cinematic accessory. Through variations on the theme, the trio twist mood and expectation: humor, tension, nostalgia, and wit fuse in fleeting gestures. Morricone’s arrangement, Nicolai’s direction, and Dell’Orso’s voice create an inside-out caper—one that reveals its elegant architecture only by turning it endlessly in the light. The latest edition, restored from original tapes, ensures that each nuance—each playful orchestral phrase and vapor-trail of soprano—shines undimmed in the pantheon of Italian soundtrack craft.​