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| DVD cover for the digitally remastered edition of Federico Fellini's La Strada |
Since the 2018 Oscar nominations are out and I've unplugged from cable, I like to get fired up for Hollywood's penultimate night to recognize film excellence (and indulge in the shameless self-congratulatory celebration of rampant nepotism) by watching a selection of Oscar-winning films from previous years.
The last time I blogged about my ongoing exploration of the Italian Neorealism film movement was back on October, 4, 2016 when I spent my midweek birthday reflecting on Paisan, the second film of Italian director Roberto Rossellini's trilogy of films about the impact of World War II on Italian society.
The screenplay for Rome, Open City (1945), the first film in Rossellini's WWII trilogy, received an Oscar nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay in 1947.
One of the co-screenwriters of that film who shared that Oscar was Federico Fellini.
While he also served as a co-director on Rome, Open City, as a director, Fellini would eventually go on to become one of the most acclaimed and influential directors in film history.
Elements of the neorealism style he learned under the tutelage of Roberto Rossellini on both Rome, Open City and on Paisan (released in 1946 and on which Fellini again served as screenwriter and co-director) can be clearly seen in the classic film La Strada (The Road) - the 1954 film which would help cement Fellini's reputation as a master filmmaker.
Last night I finally got to watch La Strada for the first time after a long wait to receive the DVD from Netflix.
Netflix's DVD service definitely offers an impressive selection of classic films from the Criterion Collection (many of which are not available to stream), but some are so popular among film buffs that when you add them to your queue, they're immediately labeled "Long Wait" and the service continues to send you the next DVD's on your list until your turn comes up.
I think I waited about three months to get La Strada delivered, but it was definitely worth the wait.
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| Roberto Maggiorani and Enzo Staiola play a father & son searching for a stolen bike in The Bicycle Thief |
They're beautiful films no doubt, but there's nothing "pretty" or polished about them.
They're rooted in a cinematic style devoid of any of the escapist, "fluffy" Hollywood type of slickly-produced glamour that was so common in American films in the 1940's and 50's.
In Italian neorealism, many of the exterior camera shots of crowds, post-WWII Italian city streets and suburban landscapes look like gritty documentaries - intentionally grim portraits of a shattered nation trying to put itself back together again.
The storylines often revolve around a character's efforts to negotiate a dysfunctional government bureaucracy, or deal with the consequences of the behavior of embittered people whose humanity has been stripped by the ravages of war to illustrate how Italian (and European) society were decimated after the massive destruction that five years of war wreaked upon the continent.
Take Vittorio De Sica's classic 1952 film Umberto D (which I blogged about back in September, 2016) for example.
The film features Carlo Basttisti in the lead role - a real-life linguistics professor who had no acting experience and was cast for his "look" - he plays a kindly old widowed pensioner struggling to pay his rent and survive on a meager pension from the state which is barely enough for him and his beloved dog Filke to live on.
Pestered by a greedy landlord and marginalized by an uncaring civil government wracked by dysfunction, laziness and inefficiency, Umberto D is a harsh criticism of the Italian state and the way it treated many citizens with contempt - "the state" is basically like a character in the film, an almost faceless-antagonist that crushes the human spirit of a gentle old man.
The story, which chronicles Umberto's struggles to hold on to his dignity and humanity, is both heart-breaking and poignant; and at times, not easy to watch.
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| Zampano (Anthony Quinn) sizes up Gelsomina after buying her in the opening of La Strada |
Even though it's set in the same post WWII setting that defines earlier Italian neorealism, the actual story is almost like a fantasy or fable.
But this ain't no fairy tale.
Unlike Umberto D, the film La Strada stars established actors Anthony Quinn, Giulietta Masina (Fellini's real-life wife) and Richard Basehart.
In one of his darkest on-screen roles, Quinn plays a crude, brooding, rage-filled, brute of a man named Zampano who has learned to eek out a meager living by traveling around the country in a ratty motorcycle contraption entertaining sparse crowds by performing as a circus "strong man".
It's a phony circus act where he pretends to use his strength to break a chain around his chest, but he knows how to "sell it", and the crowds are entertained and clearly appreciate the momentary escapist distraction that it offers from the day-to-day struggles of the post WWII landscape in which they live.
(It occurred to me that Zampano's cheesy performances might've served as a subtle metaphor for Fellini to share a sly commentary on bad films.)
The beautifully-shot opening scene of La Strada on a beach (an image Fellini would often return to in his later films like La Dolce Vita) introduces Gelsomina, played by Giulietta Masina, the second oldest daughter of an old widow struggling to care for her large brood of kids on her own.
A surly Zampano shows up at the house to inform the old woman that her other daughter Rosa, who he'd previously taken on the road with him, has died.
He never explains how she died and we never actually see her, but he pays the old woman 10,000 lire to "buy" Gelsomina as an assistant to take on the road with him for his "act."
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| Gelsomina gazes lovingly on Zampano as he sleeps |
In light of the #MeToo movement I must say the whole setup was a bit creepy at times viewed in the context of the increased attention on the treatment of women in front of and behind the camera in Hollywood.
For example, Zampano cruelly beats the young girl a few times, and insists on sleeping next to her in the back of his ratty old motorcycle contraption.
But Zampano's intentions with Gelsomina are purely business (at first..) even though he is an unapologetic womanizer, he never tries to force himself on her even as she eventually develops sincere feelings for him and grows jealous of his womanizing - but this was released in 1954 and the story is clearly a fantasy.
The film basically follows their travels between small towns and villages with just enough to get by as she learns to perform in the act with her face painted like a clown, and learns to play a simple melody on the trumpet.
In the scenes of the landscapes they pass, you can see brief glimpses of the earlier Italian neorealism films of the late 40's in terms of images of a countryside still pockmarked from war - but the film doesn't really dwell on that in the way that films like the Bicycle Thief or Paisan do.
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| In La Strada, Gelsomina (Giulietta Masina) & Zampano (Anthony Quinn) entertain a circus crowd |
Scorsese describes it as a metaphor for life; they visit a wedding in the countryside, a remote monastery and the city as well.
But the film takes a darker turn when Zampano and Gelsomina encounter the Fool played by Richard Basehart.
The Fool first captures Gelsomina's attention when she sees him performing a dangerous high-wire act in a town, and she later gives him a smile as he prepares to drive away in his car.
She's clearly captivated by his talent, looks and charm.
While the story offers little clues of the past, when Zampano and Gelsomina come upon a traveling circus and encounter the Fool, it's clear that he and Zampano have a history.
The Fool is everything Zampano is not, he's handsome, witty, charming and carefree, and he quickly recognizes a talent and potential in Gelsomina.
A recognition that flatters her but troubles Zampano, sparking a dark jealousy even though he's basically treated the poor girl like shit for most of the film.
When the Fool begins to teach Gelsomina some new skills so she can be his assistant in the circus, Zampano discovers it and becomes enraged.
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| The Fool (Richard Basehart) with Gelsomina during a circus performance in which he mocks Zampano |
Without giving away the ending, the Fool's own big mouth proves to be his undoing.
The tension that forms between the triangle of the Fool, the strongman and the clown (Gelsomina) leads to a violent confrontation that leaves the girl traumatized and scarred.
Having witnessed Zampano's capacity for violence and cruelty, she grows more terrified of him and increasingly detached from reality as she finds herself unable to cope with the Fool's unfortunate fate.
The ending is emotionally wrenching, but remains true to the Italian neorealistic form and gives expression and voice to a pessimism about the human condition that, in the context of the post WWII European landscape, is an honest one.
The end of the road for Zampano and Gelsomina in La Strada will never be confused with a classic Hollywood ending, but it is poignant, poetic and beautiful in its own way.
While it was one the most demanding film shoots of his career, ultimately it was a triumph for Federico Fellini, earning the very first Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film at the 1957 Oscars.
Like other masters of Italian neorealism like Roberto Rossellini and Vittorio De Sica, Fellini had the courage to use his understanding of screenwriting and camera technique to look deep into one of the darkest chapters of human history.
And find beauty and meaning in both the struggle to survive, and the search for human dignity in a scarred landscape ravaged by war.
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