i luv cinema

  • Facebook
  • Pinterest
  • Tumblr
  • Twitter
  • Home
  • TCMFF 2019
    • TCMFF 2019: Reflections on a Favorite Film Festival
  • Tribeca 2019
    • When Your Time is Short, Go See a Short! (Tribeca 2019)
    • LINDA RONSTADT: The Sound of My Voice
  • London Film Festival 2019
    • BFI London Film Festival 2019 – My 1st Time!
    • The Aeronauts (2019) was Fun (Kinda)
    • Knives Out: A Highlight on My Cinematic Calendar
    • A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood: A Review
    • Ford v Ferrari (Le Mans ’66)
  • 100 “Must-See”
  • About Me
Home Archives for Italian Neorealism

March 2, 2017 By iluvcinema Leave a Comment

Umberto D. (1952): A Lovely Introduction to Italian Neorealism

Something washed over me when I was watching Umberto D., the 1952 classic Italian neorealist film directed by Vittorio De Sica.

In the wake of Ken Loach‘s masterful I, Daniel Blake, I felt a sense of deja-vu in reverse. The similarities were jarring – the tale of a poor, elderly pensioner (Carlo Battisti) for whom the social safety net has failed, resulting in him struggling to regain his footing and dignity in a seemingly indifferent world. In Umberto D., this “world” is embodied not only in the form inadequate pension compensation but also in the person of the landlady (Lina Gennari) of the Roman boarding house where Umberto resides. Due to back rent due, Umberto is facing eviction.  Through this struggle, there are a few bright spots, his loyal four-legged companion Flike and the young maid (Maria-Pia Casilio) who manages the housekeeping for the boarding house. In the latter, he finds a kindred soul for she is struggling with her own personal crises – being an unwed young woman who has fallen pregnant.

As the film progresses, so does Umberto’s desperation to try to hold onto something of a normal life and not one of absolute destitution and homelessness. The story builds and builds to a harrowing climax, which is sure to leave you on the verge, if not in a full state of tears. By the time the word Fin appears on the screen, you are left with a feeling that is part life-affirming, part uncertainty about what the future possibly holds.

I really do not know what else to say about this film – it is a simple story beautifully told and portrayed. Often, the most impactful moments are captured with the bare minimum dialogue. It’s in the quiet, still moments, when we see our characters wearing their weariness on their faces, that the story is at its most profound and poetic.

Italian neorealism is not something that I am overly familiar with except in the general knowledge that it was a popular movement in a post-war environment, punctuated by stories of the of the working- or under- class. On the heels of Umberto D., my interest is definitely piqued.

Umberto D. is available on Criterion DVD/BluRay as well as iTunes.

Filed Under: Classics, Reviews Tagged With: Italian Neorealism, Umberto D., Vittorio De Sica

Search

Recommended Read

First True Hitchcock

UC Press, January 2022

Added to My Video Library

Repeat Performance

Centers of Film Study

  • JBFC
  • MoMA Film Screenings
  • The Picture House
  • University of California Press (Cinema and Media Texts)

Fast Film Resources

  • Alfred Hitchcock Wiki
  • Alfred Hitchcock-Master of Suspense
  • Film | The Guardian
  • Kermode & Mayo's Film Reviews
  • Park Circus
  • Rotten Tomatoes
  • The Internet Movie Database
  • Tribeca Film

Film Societies

  • BAMcinématek
  • Film Society of Lincoln Center

This is How We Blogroll

  • BBC Film: The Bulletin
  • Cinematic Corner
  • Comet Over Hollywood
  • Critical Women on Film
  • FlixChatter
  • Future of Flim (Tribeca Film Blog)
  • in so many words …
  • Kermode's Film Blog
  • Paula's Cinema Club
  • Roger Ebert
  • Sobriety Test Movie Reviews
  • Superhero Movie Talk
  • Sweet Freedom

Archives

Tweets by @iluvcinema
  • Terms of Use
  • Privacy Policy
  • Contact iluvcinema
totalfilm600movieblogs

[footer_backtotop]

Copyright © 2022, iluvcinema ·Streamline Pro Theme · Genesis Framework by StudioPress · WordPress · Log in