Umberto
D (1955)
To interpret the reality of living on the cinema screen has been a constant challenge to many directors and writers since the early days. On the one hand, the newsreel reporting what its cameras see and its editors select; on the other, the fictional story played by acted characters basing its events and situations on real life; in the middle, the documentary in all its many forms, drawing from reality like Flaherty and the early Eisenstein, or intermixing actors and non-actors as in the films of the Crown Film Unit.
In the post-war years, due perhaps to documentary influence, many Hollywood and British films attempted stories set against real 'backgrounds' but few, if any, achieved an honest interpretation of reality. Occasionally the French succeeded, as in Renoir's often overlooked Toni and in Clement's Les Jeux Interdits. The growth of what is called neo-realism in Italian cinema stems from Viscontl's astonishing film Ossessione in 1942. Those who missed the single performance of this rare and forbidden film at the New London Film Society were unfortunate.
Although Rosseini's Rome Open City and Paisan hogged most of the limelight in the immediate post-war years, it soon became clear that Vittorio De Sica and the screen-writer Cesare Zavattini were the two most significant figures. De Sica had been busy as a charming, polished actor in cinema and theatre for many years, had directed his first film Rose Scarlatte in 1940, and had collaborated with Zavattini as far back as 1941. In Stiusda ( 1947), Ladri di Eiciclette ( 1948) and Miraclo a Milano ( 195O), the team of De Sica-Zavattini proved to be the most formidable in the dynamic Italian cinema that was too soon to fall under Hollywood Influence and consequent glamorization and decadence.
Zavattini has himself described how in each of these films he tried to get nearer to the unvarnished, unadulterated presentation of life, and seemed to be thinking along lines that were reminiscent of Dziga-Vertov's Kino-Eye theories of the early twenties. If he still holds this view, then he must quickly transfer his talents to the television outside-broadcast cameras with their capacity for immediacy and eavesdropping but with their very limited powers of selection. De Sica, perhaps because of his actor's training, has still maintained a use of characters to interpret the reality of living although he has used in the main real people or little-known actors for his purpose and has eschewed the artificialities of the studio wherever possible.
So we come to the film Umberto D by these two distinguished film-makers, which has only recently had a public screening in London although made in 1951. And it is in England, oddly enough, that this picture has first had wide critical acclaim, a fact that has delighted De Sica and for which he has expressed his heartfelt gratitude. It was ironic that while De Sica was being promoted by the Unitalia people as its most handsome, seductive actor during the Italian Film Festival in London, Umberto D was screened to the critics ex-Festival at the National Film Theatre (with De Sica present) and scooped the reviews of the week from all the critics who matter. It had languished two years in British Lion's vaults. They could not, it was said, find an exhibitor to book it, though no reason was ever offered why they did not themselves show it at their Rialto. However, we must be grateful to the Curzon for taking the icy plunge.
Umberto D, as is now well known, is a moving study of the loneliness of old age as experienced by a retired civil servant eking out an existence on a pension too meagre for the humblest living in post-war Rome. It is dedicated by De Sica to his father and is his own best-loved film. From its exciting opening sequence of the dispersal of a demonstration of old-age pensioners by the police to its almost unbearably moving ending when the old man is prevented from suicide by his beloved dog's fear, it is a masterpiece of human observation, of detail and of mood. It has warmth, satire, humour and pathos but is never sentimental as the wonderfully handled scenes between the old man and his terrier could so easily have been.
The understanding shown by De Sica and Zavattini for the feelings of the unwanted, the aged who have served life faithfully, the penniless through no fault of their own, pitifully trying to keep up the semblance of respectability, makes this film into, in my opinion, one of the great films of all time worthy to rank with the best of Chaplin, Stroheim, Griffith or the Russians.
The actors, to us unknown names and maybe some not actors, are as real people in actual surroundings, with all the suffering and pathos and delight in small things that are true of our own lives if we have experienced life fully. How much they owe in their performances to De Sica's direction, how much to their own interpretation of a 'part', is and should remain a director's secret. The scene in which Maria, the little servant-girl, preg nant by one of two soldiers in the barracks opposite but she doesn't know or much care which, gets up from her mattress on the floor to clear up the kitchen in the morning, opening a cupboard door with her toes this is a moment when collaboration between director and actor is sacred.
In its sharp satire on the Roman Catholic Church, the hospital-ward scene with its handing out of the rosaries, its brusque medicos and smirking nuns is reminiscent of the church charity sequence in Bicycle Thieves. These are only two of dozens of scenes that each interpret the minor daily events in the lives of this small group of people old Umberto himself, a figure of dignity and grandeur and tenderness beautifully expressed by Carlo Battisti (said to be a University professor), his tarty, calculating, cold-hearted landlady (Lina Gennari), Maria the servant-girl, wonderfully played by young Maria Pia Casilio, the unbelievably intelligent dog itself and dozens of small portraits each of which remains in the mind long after the picture has been seen.
It is photographed in the casual, almost newsreel manner of the Italian neo-realists by G. R. Aldo, who also shot Visconti's La Terra Trema. I can understand some people actively disliking this film, as Aldo was killed in 1955 during the making of Visconti's film Senso. In its time Stroheim's Greed was disliked, because it is too close to reality to be pleasant to those who refuse to face up to reality. It is a social protest made with tenderness and affection. And unlike so many such protests, it has no bitterness in it. It has a purity, an unswerving integrity of purpose, and an awareness of simple people that mark De Sica, once again, as a great artist of our time. Zavattini, too, must share the credit.
Umberto D is, of course, a film of hope, of belief in people's inherent goodness, and any tourist who wouldn't visit Italy because of it had best stay at home. Driven to attempted suicide, Umberto nevertheless draws back when he sees that belief in him, even if held only by an animal, is to be broken. We do not know how he will continue his struggle but we do know he has restored a faith placed In him.
But the present days are dark for the neo-realists in Italy, as indeed they are for many other film-makers who would interpret reality in terms of human respect and understanding. With a prosperous, glossified Italian film industry, its eyes set on the gold of foreign markets, with official pressures exercised against them, the neo-realists are hard put to realize their aims, relatively cheap though their films may be to make. Like Von Stroheim before him, De Sica has recently spent much of his time exploiting his popularity as an actor; only in this way can he build up reserves which will allow him to direct again as he wishes. He and Zavattini have plans for another picture; that is the best news for a long time.
Paul Rotha, BRITISH FILM ACADEMY JOURNAL, Spring, 1955.
© Derek McLellan 2007,on editing or revisions if any.
To interpret the reality of living on the cinema screen has been a constant challenge to many directors and writers since the early days. On the one hand, the newsreel reporting what its cameras see and its editors select; on the other, the fictional story played by acted characters basing its events and situations on real life; in the middle, the documentary in all its many forms, drawing from reality like Flaherty and the early Eisenstein, or intermixing actors and non-actors as in the films of the Crown Film Unit.
In the post-war years, due perhaps to documentary influence, many Hollywood and British films attempted stories set against real 'backgrounds' but few, if any, achieved an honest interpretation of reality. Occasionally the French succeeded, as in Renoir's often overlooked Toni and in Clement's Les Jeux Interdits. The growth of what is called neo-realism in Italian cinema stems from Viscontl's astonishing film Ossessione in 1942. Those who missed the single performance of this rare and forbidden film at the New London Film Society were unfortunate.
Although Rosseini's Rome Open City and Paisan hogged most of the limelight in the immediate post-war years, it soon became clear that Vittorio De Sica and the screen-writer Cesare Zavattini were the two most significant figures. De Sica had been busy as a charming, polished actor in cinema and theatre for many years, had directed his first film Rose Scarlatte in 1940, and had collaborated with Zavattini as far back as 1941. In Stiusda ( 1947), Ladri di Eiciclette ( 1948) and Miraclo a Milano ( 195O), the team of De Sica-Zavattini proved to be the most formidable in the dynamic Italian cinema that was too soon to fall under Hollywood Influence and consequent glamorization and decadence.
Zavattini has himself described how in each of these films he tried to get nearer to the unvarnished, unadulterated presentation of life, and seemed to be thinking along lines that were reminiscent of Dziga-Vertov's Kino-Eye theories of the early twenties. If he still holds this view, then he must quickly transfer his talents to the television outside-broadcast cameras with their capacity for immediacy and eavesdropping but with their very limited powers of selection. De Sica, perhaps because of his actor's training, has still maintained a use of characters to interpret the reality of living although he has used in the main real people or little-known actors for his purpose and has eschewed the artificialities of the studio wherever possible.
So we come to the film Umberto D by these two distinguished film-makers, which has only recently had a public screening in London although made in 1951. And it is in England, oddly enough, that this picture has first had wide critical acclaim, a fact that has delighted De Sica and for which he has expressed his heartfelt gratitude. It was ironic that while De Sica was being promoted by the Unitalia people as its most handsome, seductive actor during the Italian Film Festival in London, Umberto D was screened to the critics ex-Festival at the National Film Theatre (with De Sica present) and scooped the reviews of the week from all the critics who matter. It had languished two years in British Lion's vaults. They could not, it was said, find an exhibitor to book it, though no reason was ever offered why they did not themselves show it at their Rialto. However, we must be grateful to the Curzon for taking the icy plunge.
Umberto D, as is now well known, is a moving study of the loneliness of old age as experienced by a retired civil servant eking out an existence on a pension too meagre for the humblest living in post-war Rome. It is dedicated by De Sica to his father and is his own best-loved film. From its exciting opening sequence of the dispersal of a demonstration of old-age pensioners by the police to its almost unbearably moving ending when the old man is prevented from suicide by his beloved dog's fear, it is a masterpiece of human observation, of detail and of mood. It has warmth, satire, humour and pathos but is never sentimental as the wonderfully handled scenes between the old man and his terrier could so easily have been.
The understanding shown by De Sica and Zavattini for the feelings of the unwanted, the aged who have served life faithfully, the penniless through no fault of their own, pitifully trying to keep up the semblance of respectability, makes this film into, in my opinion, one of the great films of all time worthy to rank with the best of Chaplin, Stroheim, Griffith or the Russians.
The actors, to us unknown names and maybe some not actors, are as real people in actual surroundings, with all the suffering and pathos and delight in small things that are true of our own lives if we have experienced life fully. How much they owe in their performances to De Sica's direction, how much to their own interpretation of a 'part', is and should remain a director's secret. The scene in which Maria, the little servant-girl, preg nant by one of two soldiers in the barracks opposite but she doesn't know or much care which, gets up from her mattress on the floor to clear up the kitchen in the morning, opening a cupboard door with her toes this is a moment when collaboration between director and actor is sacred.
In its sharp satire on the Roman Catholic Church, the hospital-ward scene with its handing out of the rosaries, its brusque medicos and smirking nuns is reminiscent of the church charity sequence in Bicycle Thieves. These are only two of dozens of scenes that each interpret the minor daily events in the lives of this small group of people old Umberto himself, a figure of dignity and grandeur and tenderness beautifully expressed by Carlo Battisti (said to be a University professor), his tarty, calculating, cold-hearted landlady (Lina Gennari), Maria the servant-girl, wonderfully played by young Maria Pia Casilio, the unbelievably intelligent dog itself and dozens of small portraits each of which remains in the mind long after the picture has been seen.
It is photographed in the casual, almost newsreel manner of the Italian neo-realists by G. R. Aldo, who also shot Visconti's La Terra Trema. I can understand some people actively disliking this film, as Aldo was killed in 1955 during the making of Visconti's film Senso. In its time Stroheim's Greed was disliked, because it is too close to reality to be pleasant to those who refuse to face up to reality. It is a social protest made with tenderness and affection. And unlike so many such protests, it has no bitterness in it. It has a purity, an unswerving integrity of purpose, and an awareness of simple people that mark De Sica, once again, as a great artist of our time. Zavattini, too, must share the credit.
Umberto D is, of course, a film of hope, of belief in people's inherent goodness, and any tourist who wouldn't visit Italy because of it had best stay at home. Driven to attempted suicide, Umberto nevertheless draws back when he sees that belief in him, even if held only by an animal, is to be broken. We do not know how he will continue his struggle but we do know he has restored a faith placed In him.
But the present days are dark for the neo-realists in Italy, as indeed they are for many other film-makers who would interpret reality in terms of human respect and understanding. With a prosperous, glossified Italian film industry, its eyes set on the gold of foreign markets, with official pressures exercised against them, the neo-realists are hard put to realize their aims, relatively cheap though their films may be to make. Like Von Stroheim before him, De Sica has recently spent much of his time exploiting his popularity as an actor; only in this way can he build up reserves which will allow him to direct again as he wishes. He and Zavattini have plans for another picture; that is the best news for a long time.
Paul Rotha, BRITISH FILM ACADEMY JOURNAL, Spring, 1955.
© Derek McLellan 2007,on editing or revisions if any.
Don't forget our sister site the Golden Age of Hollywood Messageboard
The Golden Age of Hollywood Banners by Ktrek.
Written content of the Golden Age of Hollywood Website (except where indicated) copyright Derek McLellan, 2007.