Excellent, a Must See

To all those who have watched it: I hope you enjoyed it as much as I do.

It’s not bad or unwatchable but despite the amplitude of the spectacle, the end result is underwhelming.

By the time the dramatic fireworks start popping off, each one feels earned.

Labeled by some as the "epitome of world cinema", Neorealism is perhaps tautologically represented by its appeal to genuineness - a call to realism, a display of actual life. Italian Neorealist films like De Sica's Umberto D. embody this overarching value, made apparent by many deliberate choices in production. Top-billed actors in this film are truly not actors at all, but brought to the screen on appearance alone. They live out their own stories, as true to the self as they possibly can be, realizing this powerful authenticity. Antagonists, interestingly, are professional actors cast opposite their usual roles, allowing a small inconsistency with this effort that, to a knowledgeable audience, would provide a short, yet sharp, dose of excitement. The most notable Neorealist pillar shown in Umberto D., however (aside from its setting at the Pantheon, of course), is its use of plot that is not exactly extravagant. The film is about a government retiree, and his loyal, canine companion, who struggle to make ends meet on his pension. A brief side plot exists as he interacts with his building's maid, and these are, more or less, the only large-scale stories told. To borrow from the television series Seinfeld, it's a film "about nothing" - but by telling this seemingly commonplace tale, De Sica opens this life and setting up to something beautiful. The simple story is mirrored by simple shots that other films, including those that came after this movement, would not dare. In one scene, the maid grinds coffee grounds - a task that would, in other films, take seconds - but in Umberto D., it is drawn out to its appropriate, real-life length. Seemingly banal details, like the building's ants, are shown with great intricacy. By placing emphasis on the minutia of day-to-day life, De Sica embodies us in the story, and it overflows with authenticity, making it seem as though the audience could jump through the screen and truly live these moments with the characters.

Is my special appreciation for this film due to my status as a senior citizen who often feels that the only true friend in the world is a little, rescued terrier mix not named Flike but Peanut? This is a film that Robert Osborne should declare "an essential" on one Saturday night, if he hasn't done so already. Beyond the aspect of an elderly man and his faithful little dog, once a person is cast aside from the world of employment and a regular wage, who among us doesn't fear that one day he or she will meet the fate of Umberto D., a pensioner who discovers that he can't gather enough money in order to live? A retiree, such as myself, doesn't have to reside in a ravaged, somewhat hostile, postwar Rome for this movie to depict one of my worst nightmares, so why do I love it so much?Aside from a remarkable Napoleone, who played the dog Flike for all but two dog scenes and managed to steal the show in the process, the performances of the two main human actors, Carlo Battisti and Maria Pia Casilio, astoundingly both amateurs, were excellent, which was a triumph in itself for the film's exceptional director, Vittorio de Sica. The photography of post-World War II Rome by G.R. Aldo paired with the highly dramatic music of prolific film composer Alessandro Cicognini completed the ingredients for a remarkable cinematic success that has withstood the test of time.There are too many memorable scenes in this film to describe in one review, but the one segment that left an indelible impression on me for the rest of my life is the instance when little Flike momentarily loses faith in his human companion and for very good reason, but I won't reveal any other information about the scene. If that occasion alone doesn't break your heart, I don't know what will.One doesn't have to be in an advanced stage of life, such as myself, in order to fall in love with this movie. Umberto D's plight is one that should resonate with moviegoers of all ages and economic conditions. It could happen to any of us at any time. Over time, I have learned that nothing is ever guaranteed, so appreciate all that you have today, don't forget to kiss your precious, little doggie goodnight, and never lose his or her trust, not even for a brief moment in time. It will break your heart.

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.

First, let me admit that I love nearly all of the films generally grouped into the category of Italian Neorealism - whether it is works by Rossellini, De Sica, Fellini or Visconti or even the comedies of Comencini. To me, these films explore what it is to be human, and they do so with an eye for the mundane, the extraordinary and the exquisite, so that we are shown the boredom, the challenge and the joy of being alive. Because they want to do this, they play by different rules. These movies, even when their subjects include war or human passion or death, do not omit the everyday aspects of existence. For this reason, some viewers may find them slow, or ask why certain elements are included that do not directly serve the main plot. But that is precisely the point with films of this kind: the film is not the sum of its action, but the realisation of a tangible, fallible, fragile world in which certain actions take place.Vittorio De Sica's "Umberto D." is about a retired civil servant who cannot survive on his pension. For the first time in his life, or so it seems, he is in debt. This shames him to a degree, but he has for the most part learned to cope with the shame and even work a few desperate angles to his advantage. However, what he cannot seem to surmount is the debt he owes to his landlady, who wants him out of the building in any case. That the man has nowhere to go but the poorhouse, and that in going there he would have to give up his dog Flike, troubles no-one else except his landlady's sympathetic young pregnant and unmarried maid (played wonderfully by Maria Pia Casilio in her first screen role).That, essentially, is the plot of the film. In showing this, De Sica manages to give us glimpses at sexual double standards, indifferent government, cold capitalism, the practical use of religious piety (a wonderful scene in the hospital involving a sister of mercy)and faithful canine love.The performances are very good across the board, but the star, Carlo Battisti, a professor of linguistics who never again starred in a film, is outstanding. On his slight shoulders he carries the weight of a world now vanished, a richer and better world that can only be appreciated to its fullest when looking back with wistful eyes.This film isn't perfect, but for me, it will do until perfect comes along.