Sunday, March 4, 2007

Bicycle Thieves


"No great and enduring volume can ever be written on the flea, though many there be that have tried it." - Herman Melville

From Herman Melville´s mouth to Hollywood´s ears, the notion that an important film must be about an important subject was so deeply imbedded in the public perception, it went largely unchallenged until Roberto Rossellini, Vittorio de Sica and the Italian neo-realists threw a mid-1940s cinematic haymaker that continues to rattle teeth even sixty years later. Neorealism represented a fundamental paradigm shift, turning the camera from the fantasy world of the studio to the "real" world of the streets. Neorealist films were no less "important" than Hollywood films, but they found their significance in the everyday struggles of the common man. Big-name stars could (and often did) appear in neorealist films, but they were just as likely to be upstaged or replaced entirely by nonprofessional actors, performers cast to play themselves or simply because they looked right for the part.

Vittorio de Sica began his film career as a successful comic actor in the very escapist fare his films ultimately rejected. "Shoeshine" (1946) was his first international hit, winning an Honorary Oscar in 1948, but today he is best remembered for "Bicycle Thieves," and with good reason.

In many ways, "Bicycle Thieves" is a relatively traditional film. Critics have suggested that the film´s relatively thin and free-form plot distinguishes it from Hollywood cinema, but the script adheres rather closely to the familiar model of the goal-oriented protagonist who must overcome a series of obstacles to achieve his desires. As the film opens, the desperately poor Antonio Ricci (Lamberto Maggiorani) wants a job. An official offers him a position placing posters throughout the city, but he will need his bicycle in order to do it. Problem is, he just pawned his bicycle to pay for another month of food and rent. So his wife Maria (Lianella Carell) hocks her precious bed linens in order to retrieve the bicycle from the pawn shop. Problem solved, until the next day when Antonio is laying a thick coating on Rita Hayworth (a poster of Rita Hayworth, I mean) and leaves his bike unattended, thus making it an easy target for a passing thief. Antonio, with his young son Bruno (Enzo Staiola) in tow, spends the rest of the film trying to find his stolen bike, only to struggle with apathetic policemen, highly territorial townsfolk, and even a "God must really be laughing it up today" hell of a rainstorm that sends him scrambling for cover. Left with no other alternative, Antonio eventually tries to steal a bike of his own, a decision which nearly leads to a devastating outcome.

The script (written by long-time De Sica collaborator Cesare Zavattini and a cast of thousands) breaks with convention not so much in its mode of storytelling, but more fundamentally in its content. The theft of a bike from a poor Italian poster-hanger wouldn´t amount to a hill of beans in Casablanca or anywhere else in Hollywood, but at this moment in time, Antonio´s entire world hinges on the retrieval of that two-wheeler. This "flea" of a story becomes an important one precisely because De Sica and company spin it into an entire feature-length time; in fact, a big-budget film directed by one of Italy´s most famous filmmakers. "Bicycle Thieves" is thus a perfect example of the way that neorealism represented not just a break with convention, but a permanent reconfiguration of the relationship between cinema and reality. This is the heart of neorealism and it beats in the very core of virtually every cinematic movement that followed, from the French New Wave to New German Cinema to the New Hollywood of the 1960s and 70s.

The film also performs a delicate balancing act, simultaneously managing to convey a sense of collectivity (Antonio and the other residents of the city) while also telling a simple story about a father and his son. In one of the film´s most celebrated scenes, Antonio suddenly abandons his futile search to take Bruno out for a fancy lunch that he can´t afford. It doesn´t matter. He wants a moment of normalcy with his little boy, and he puts on his best game face while Bruno enjoys a meal in the same place the spoiled rich boys eat their lunch. Antonio can´t keep up the pretense forever; the pressures of the class struggle can´t be alleviated by a mozzarella sandwich, but this brief respite from the gloom proffers a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak story.

"No great and enduring volume can ever be written on the flea, though many there be that have tried it." - Herman Melville

From Herman Melville´s mouth to Hollywood´s ears, the notion that an important film must be about an important subject was so deeply imbedded in the public perception, it went largely unchallenged until Roberto Rossellini, Vittorio de Sica and the Italian neo-realists threw a mid-1940s cinematic haymaker that continues to rattle teeth even sixty years later. Neorealism represented a fundamental paradigm shift, turning the camera from the fantasy world of the studio to the "real" world of the streets. Neorealist films were no less "important" than Hollywood films, but they found their significance in the everyday struggles of the common man. Big-name stars could (and often did) appear in neorealist films, but they were just as likely to be upstaged or replaced entirely by nonprofessional actors, performers cast to play themselves or simply because they looked right for the part.

Vittorio de Sica began his film career as a successful comic actor in the very escapist fare his films ultimately rejected. "Shoeshine" (1946) was his first international hit, winning an Honorary Oscar in 1948, but today he is best remembered for "Bicycle Thieves," and with good reason.

In many ways, "Bicycle Thieves" is a relatively traditional film. Critics have suggested that the film´s relatively thin and free-form plot distinguishes it from Hollywood cinema, but the script adheres rather closely to the familiar model of the goal-oriented protagonist who must overcome a series of obstacles to achieve his desires. As the film opens, the desperately poor Antonio Ricci (Lamberto Maggiorani) wants a job. An official offers him a position placing posters throughout the city, but he will need his bicycle in order to do it. Problem is, he just pawned his bicycle to pay for another month of food and rent. So his wife Maria (Lianella Carell) hocks her precious bed linens in order to retrieve the bicycle from the pawn shop. Problem solved, until the next day when Antonio is laying a thick coating on Rita Hayworth (a poster of Rita Hayworth, I mean) and leaves his bike unattended, thus making it an easy target for a passing thief. Antonio, with his young son Bruno (Enzo Staiola) in tow, spends the rest of the film trying to find his stolen bike, only to struggle with apathetic policemen, highly territorial townsfolk, and even a "God must really be laughing it up today" hell of a rainstorm that sends him scrambling for cover. Left with no other alternative, Antonio eventually tries to steal a bike of his own, a decision which nearly leads to a devastating outcome.

The script (written by long-time De Sica collaborator Cesare Zavattini and a cast of thousands) breaks with convention not so much in its mode of storytelling, but more fundamentally in its content. The theft of a bike from a poor Italian poster-hanger wouldn´t amount to a hill of beans in Casablanca or anywhere else in Hollywood, but at this moment in time, Antonio´s entire world hinges on the retrieval of that two-wheeler. This "flea" of a story becomes an important one precisely because De Sica and company spin it into an entire feature-length time; in fact, a big-budget film directed by one of Italy´s most famous filmmakers. "Bicycle Thieves" is thus a perfect example of the way that neorealism represented not just a break with convention, but a permanent reconfiguration of the relationship between cinema and reality. This is the heart of neorealism and it beats in the very core of virtually every cinematic movement that followed, from the French New Wave to New German Cinema to the New Hollywood of the 1960s and 70s.

The film also performs a delicate balancing act, simultaneously managing to convey a sense of collectivity (Antonio and the other residents of the city) while also telling a simple story about a father and his son. In one of the film´s most celebrated scenes, Antonio suddenly abandons his futile search to take Bruno out for a fancy lunch that he can´t afford. It doesn´t matter. He wants a moment of normalcy with his little boy, and he puts on his best game face while Bruno enjoys a meal in the same place the spoiled rich boys eat their lunch. Antonio can´t keep up the pretense forever; the pressures of the class struggle can´t be alleviated by a mozzarella sandwich, but this brief respite from the gloom proffers a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak story.

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