sharky_55
Post-war Italy was reeling after the fall of Mussolini which led to a broken economy and those suffering civilians such as Umberto D. Ferrari. There's a cruel irony to the fact that former government workers such as himself have been reduced to poverty after acting as the backbone to the fascist party for so many years. And we see remnants of this ideology immediately; the opening presents many Umbertos protesting the state of affairs, and whom are chased off by the police (closely resembling the military) because they do not have the right permits. This isn't quite the free democratic society we are often so used to seeing depicted. Of course critics then and now did not respond so eagerly to De Sica's masterpiece - expressions of a pandering sentimentality and even criticised by the government for its shabby, depressive representation of the society at the time. With age however it has become a cornerstone of Italian neorealism. The stylistic choices the De Sica mastered showcase their full effect; who could accuse the sweet, patient way in which the camera observes the maid go about her morning ritual in long take of sentimentality? It makes routine into something tragic, because even in the endless chores and the neglected, ant-infested building there is some brief security that will soon be gone once she starts showing. And even as Umberto tosses and turns for an agonising length we know that it is highly preferred to sleeping on the street.In the amateur actor Carlo Battisti De Sica found something of a marvel. In his weathered, lean face we see that he knows all the tricks of living in poverty - he cleverly manouevers a meal to feed his loyal dog Flike, he makes an impassioned pitch to sell his old watch, and when he needs change for a taxi, it doesn't descend into desperation for desperation's sake; he quickly buys and tosses a glass cup because his objective is much more important. De Sica's long takes are unprejudiced and unsympathetic, and there is never a sense of exploitation of a scene for dramatic purposes. There are moments of such startling tragedy and poignancy that do not seem the least bit theatrical or played out - the subtle way in which Battisti flips over his palm as if to pretend to be only checking for rain, not wanting to look like a beggar. Or the way he slowly backs out of the door while staging a distraction for Flike who would otherwise protest his master's leaving. Or the little moment of realisation that leaving Flike at the shelter would be an act of slow cruelty. It is a slow, deliberate staging of dignity being stripped away, but none of it feels manufactured. Opposing neorealist tradition is the dog behind Flike, a trained acting dog, but because we do not scrutinise an animal as much as we scrutinise a human's mannerisms, it because a natural and dependent relationship. It becomes heartbreaking and true when we realise that Umberto is looking for a place for Flike to stay; for a while, indefinitely, forever? We do not know for sure, but the mood is grim all the same. And when he makes what seems like a decision with no other alternative, after trying everything else (even hiding and hoping Flike will run away), he cannot commit to the double suicide. This is powered by a tiny vestige of selfishness which we all have - a striving for companionship in even the darkest of times, and there is no better role for that job than a dog. And watching this magnificent film, we can only hope that we are never pushed into a corner like Umberto, but if we were, that we too would possess that little bit of humanity left in us to coax that dog back to our side.
Carlos King
I should preface by saying that this is the first Vittorio de Sica movie I have watched, and at the time of writing this, I have yet to see his earlier works. I had wanted to watch Umberto D. to get myself familiar with the Italian "Neoverismo" or Neorealist movement, and it helped that my library held a copy of Umberto D as opposed to these other tales.But what a story it is! Umberto D. Ferrari, after working his whole life in a government position, finds that his meager pension can no longer support himself; it's either rent or food. Umberto has months of back-rent owed to his monstrously conceited landlady, who holes him up in a bug-infested bedroom and constantly taunts and threatens the man with eviction. We watch Umberto struggle as he seeks to maintain some semblance of dignity and humanity, primarily through his relationship with the landlady's dark-eyed, disingenuous maid, and his one true companion and love, his pet dog, Flike. As the movie progresses, we watch as Umberto becomes more miserable, desperate, and dejected, as society no longer has need of an irritable old man, and Umberto increasingly contemplates drastic solutions to end his suffering.Carlo Battisti, the eponymous character, emotes with a fussiness, irritability, and resignation that I know all too well in the faces of elderly people in my own family and community. Umberto D. is a man who has worked his whole life and now finds himself without family, without friends, and increasingly, without a roof over his head. His slide into destitution is heartbreaking to watch.Lina Gennari plays the landlady as a never-ending wellspring of inhumane, bourgeois pretension. La Padrona has delusions of turning her tenement house into a place of class and high culture, plans that are frustrated by the presence of a dejected old man and his mutt.Maria Pia Casillo, discovered as a high-school student by De Sica, plays the landlady's maid, and is the closest thing to a human friend Umberto has. She is hiding a pregnancy from la Padrona, fearful that once discovered, she will lose her job as housemaid. She does not know who got her pregnant, one of the soldiers who daily parade outside the house (the one from Naples? the one from Florence?); this frank admission of sexual misconduct horrifies Umberto, who acts, in his limited capacity, as a grandfather for Maria.Flike the dog's expressiveness and liveliness justify all the affection and praise Umberto lavishes on the dog. Umberto won't go a conversation without talking about how lovely Flike is, and as the film progresses he is increasingly more concerned about Flike's well-being than his own.Aside from the landlady and Flike, all the characters in De Sica's Umberto D. are played by non-actors. This gives an earthiness, a weight to their performances. Hard, pockmarked faces inhabit this Rome, whose tall, soaring Renaissance architecture seems to emphasize the smallness of its inhabitants. Ugly faces, old faces, weaselly scoundrels and smiling nuns... all these and more populate the camera as it follows around Umberto and Flike. The camera moves in a lifelike fashion, like an observer, and we watch Maria grind coffee beans in tears as she reflects on her pregnancy, or we watch as Umberto tries to beg but can't bring himself to debase himself in public. These little, mundane human actions are what make the film for me, whether it is Maria dropping everything she's doing to watch the soldiers outside her window, or as an elderly man contemplates taking his dog from the pound or having him put down, and you can see the thousand different painful emotions playing in his hard, worn eyes. They sound unimportant, and they are, but De Sica infuses them with dignity and empathy.We get the sense that this is a real story playing out. From the opening, ineffectual protest of retired pensioners, to the penultimate, wretched scenes at the train tracks, we feel that De Sica has us in his confidence, and is sharing a deeply personal story with us (the film is dedicated to De Sica's father). The film's final moments end on an open note, but ultimately one of hope and humanity in a world that has progressively and aggressively sought to dehumanize Umberto and throw him away with the rest of the trash.The film's notes mention the vicious criticism it received at the hands of the bloated, bureaucratic Christian Democratic Party and corrupt, ineffectual Communist Party, both who hated the film for its subversion and pessimism. Considering post-war Italy's turbulent history, this pessimism might be justified. But this pessimism is ultimately tempered with hope. Because at the end, a man can still love and live for someone, even if that someone is a dog.NOTE: This review is based off of the Criterion DVD. For those more interested in the DVD itself, the picture looks well and the quality is what you would expect from a Criterion release (that is to say, very good!). The monaural mix had no problems (though I listened through headphones on a laptop). The film's liner notes contain a short essay on the film, plus thoughts by Vittorio de Sica on Umberto D. There is no film commentary, but the DVD's extras contain a 51 minute documentary on De Sica's filmography, often narrated and hosted by De Sica himself. Also included are some thoughts and notes by Carlo Battisti, Umberto Eco, and others on the film, and an interview with Maria Pia Casilio about her relationship with De Sica and how she came to work on the film. All of this is excellent and informative and the documentary in particular was a fun watch, if only for De Sica's magnetic personality.
