Could there be a better time to revisit the compassionate films of Vittorio De Sica? De Sica (1902–1974), who often addressed the theme of economic hardship, accounted for the melancholy in his best movies by describing himself as a disillusioned optimist: "I love humanity, I trust humanity, but humanity has a way of disillusioning me." The series "Vittorio De Sica—Neo-Realism, Melodrama, Fantasy" at the Harvard Film Archive arrives not only in the midst of a recession, but also during a time when critics have been placing movies by various American independent directors, including Kelly Reichardt, Ramin Bahrani and Lance Hammer, in the neo-realist tradition.
Born from the ashes of war and fascism, Italian neo-realism has had a lasting impact around the globe. In the aftermath of World War II, such filmmakers as De Sica, Roberto Rossellini and Luchino Visconti, short on funds and eager to explore a truthful new mode, began using real-life situations, location shooting, nonprofessional actors and a patiently observant visual style. De Sica began an inspired partnership with the screenwriter, novelist and theoretician Cesare Zavattini, whose scripts came brilliantly alive through De Sica's warmth, sensitivity and talent for eliciting naturalistic performances. Neo-realism's greatest achievement, Zavattini later wrote, was to abandon "superimposing dead formulas over living social facts."
Dashingly handsome, De Sica turned to directing after abandoning a career as a stage performer and screen idol (although he continued to act throughout his life). He began with fluffy entertainments to gain the confidence of producers, but his fifth film and first collaboration with Zavattini, "I bambini ci guardano" ("The Children Are Watching Us," 1943), was a creative leap forward that anticipated neo-realism. Blending melodrama and unadorned realism, it follows a 5-year-old abandoned by his tormented, love-struck mother, showing through his eyes a selfish society weakened by fascism and war. De Sica then directed a Vatican-supported project, which he credited with saving him from having to work for Joseph Goebbels.
And finally the war ended, but it left more misery in its wake—including homelessness and massive unemployment. Determined to bear witness to what they saw, De Sica and Zavattini made "Sciuscià " ("Shoeshine," 1946), a tale of corrupted innocence in which two impoverished, high-spirited boys intent on buying a horse are drawn into crime and land in an appalling juvenile prison. With "Ladri di biciclette" ("The Bicycle Thieves," 1948)—which captures Roman faces and streets with crystalline beauty and stars an extraordinary nonprofessional (Lamberto Maggiorani) as a man searching with his young son for his stolen bicycle, needed for a coveted job—their neo-realist vision reached its peak.
These works didn't exclude imagination: The horse in "Shoeshine," for example, makes a dreamlike appearance at the grim conclusion. Fantasy plays a larger role in "Miracolo a Milano" ("Miracle in Milan," 1951), based on a novel by Zavattini. In this sparkling fable echoing early cinema, shantytown residents wage a bloodless battle against a top-hatted businessman to defend their shanties, fortified by miracles. But no angels are visible in "Umberto D." (1952), a portrait of loneliness and old age in which a debt-ridden pensioner—loved only by his small dog and a teenage housemaid—is played with complicated dignity by a linguistics professor (Carlo Battisti). Although now recognized as one of De Sica's masterpieces, it was a box-office flop and excoriated by the Italian government. Escapism had come back in style.
Despite starring Jennifer Jones and Montgomery Clift, "Stazione Termini" ("Terminal Station," 1953) was De Sica and Zavattini's final truly neo-realist film, a depiction of an adulterous affair's last gasps that unfolds in real time in a vast train station. The producer, David O. Selznick, butchered it in the editing room, releasing a much shorter version as "Indiscretion of an American Wife." Those who have seen only the latter should find "Terminal Station," the version being shown at the HFA—in which time and space take on almost unbearable weight—nothing short of a revelation.
The harrowing "La Ciociara" ("Two Women," 1960), featuring Sophia Loren's Oscar-winning performance as a refugee struggling to protect her teenage daughter, was a greater success, but De Sica spent most of the '60s resigned to making commercial films that didn't showcase his greatest strengths, though they employed his flair for comedy. The retrospective includes "Caccia alla volpe" ("After the Fox," 1966), a send-up of the Italian film industry co-written by Neil Simon and Zavattini and starring Peter Sellers as a criminal who hilariously poses as a neo-realist director to smuggle stolen gold.
Many saw "Il giardino dei Finzi-Contini" ("The Garden of the Finzi-Continis," 1970) as a return to De Sica's old mastery. Based on a Giorgio Bassani novel set during World War II, about a wealthy, dreamily reclusive Jewish family oblivious to looming dangers, it glows with repressed emotion and painful nostalgia. Although his shooting style had evolved, De Sica's disillusioned love for humanity was once again piercingly palpable. Writing in The New Yorker, Pauline Kael called it "a beautiful surprise—a return not to neo-realism but to the limpid style of his neo-realist days."
The purity of De Sica's neo-realist vision found a powerful echo in Ms. Reichardt's "Wendy and Lucy" (2008), released after the recession began. It's a radiantly minimalist story about a young loner, en route to Alaska to look for seasonal fishery work, who commits a desperate act after her car breaks down and loses her dog as a result. Although Ms. Reichardt's film stars a professional actress (Michelle Williams), it features a resonant sense of place, understated acting and a protagonist under duress who crosses paths with people on the fringes of society.
De Sica's work hasn't convinced all critics. Manny Farber, for example, complained in 1957 of his "cute, little-guy worshipings." But despite the presence of children, a dog and an elderly retiree, cuteness is in short supply in films like "Shoeshine," "The Bicycle Thieves" and "Umberto D." Rather, they radiate a clarity and generosity that are timeless but may offer special comfort in difficult times.
