Umberto D. (1952)
Directed by Vittorio De Sica

Film Review

Umberto D. completes a cycle of neo-realist masterpieces that was the fruit of a remarkable collaboration between eminent film director Vittorio De Sica and the legendary screenwriter Cesare Zavattini.   This series of films, which includes Shoeshine (1946) and Bicycle Thieves (1948), paints a sobering picture of society in post-war Italy, where economic hardship appears to have made individuals indifferent to the plight of orphans, the poor, the unemployed and the old.  The common thread running through these films is how suffering can go unnoticed, how little society responds to the needs of the individual in a moment of personal crisis.  Every one of the films has a remarkably simple story to tell, but the approach used by De Sica is to render that story intensely poignant, full of poetry and compassion, and showing a profound understanding of the human psyche.

Quite possibly the best example of Italian neo-realism, Umberto D. was the film of which De Sica was most proud, and he dedicated it to his father.  The central character of Umberto is played by an elderly professor from the University of Florence, Carlo Battisti, who was offered the part by De Sica when he crossed him in the street one day.  Battisti's lack of training as an actor allows him to give a devastatingly effective naturalistic performance, his mellow sorrowful eyes conveying loneliness, subdued suffering and quiet despair, making him a perfect casting choice.  In common with the other great neo-realist directors, De Sica preferred non-professional actors because it allowed him to achieve a greater sense of truth and reality in his films, that being one of his main preoccupations as a director.

What sets De Sica apart is how he succeeds in playing gut-wrenching misery along side moments of great joy.  Whilst he deals with tough subjects, his approach, which combines poetry and realism to great effect, ensures that his films are moving without being depressing.  For every cruel blow that the old man receives in Umberto D., there's always a compensating moment of tenderness.  The hostility of his landlady is contrasted with the kindness of her young maid; a disturbed night of abject misery is followed by a morning filled with brilliant sunshine; each time Umberto loses his treasured dog, he is reunited with him.  In De Sica's films, life is a continual sea-saw of ups and downs - moments of hardship and anguish followed by moments of intense joie de vivre.

Umberto D. was not a great success when it was released in Italy.  Indeed, it so offended the Minister of Culture that its distribution outside the country was banned for a few years.  It received a more favourable response when it was released in America and earned an Oscar nomination (but sadly no award).  Since then, appreciation of the film has grown enormously and you would be hard pressed to find a serious film enthusiast who did not rate it as one of the greatest works in cinema history.  By any standards, Umberto D. is remarkable film, so simple on the surface, and yet so full of meaning and brimming over with humanity, without so much as a whiff of sentimentality.  How sad that the film is just as relevant today as it was when it was first made.

Film Synopsis

Umberto Domenico Ferrari is a retired civil servant living in a rented room in Rome.  Having no family or friends, his only companion is his small dog, Flike.  The meagre pension Umberto receives is barely enough to live on. He has fallen behind with his rent payments and his unsympathetic landlady threatens to evict him unless he pays up.  Even after having sold his watch and his books, the old man still hasn't enough money and so is forced to leave the room that has been his home for the past twenty years.  He wanders the streets, burdened by his suitcase, striving to find a new home for his dog.  This too proves to be a waste of time and Umberto decides that it's probably best if they were both out of the way...