by Allan Fish
(Italy 1952 89m) DVD1/2
One man and his dog
p/d Vittorio de Sica w Cesare Zavattini, Vittorio de Sica ph G.R.Aldo ed Eraldo di Roma m Alessandro Cicognini art Virgilio Marchi
Carlo Battisti (Umberto Domenico Ferrari), Mario Pia Casilio (Maria), Lina Gennari (landlady), Alberto Albani Barbieri (fiancé), Elena Rea (sister),
“I’m just a good for nothing old man” laments Carlo Battisti in de Sica’s immortal neo-realist drama. Indeed this is neo-realism and cinematic humanism at its height, a film perhaps too sentimental for some, but somehow essential. Umberto D is a film that manages to show just how lonely old age can be. And even though other films have dealt with the subject of old age – from Tokyo Story to Wild Strawberries to Make Way for Tomorrow – they all detailed old couples or at least those with family. The eponymous old man in de Sica’s film has no family, no friends and no hope.
Umberto Domenico Ferrari has recently retired after working as a civil servant for thirty years in the Ministry of Public Works. He has never been in debt in his life, until now. Now he is 15,000 lira in debt to his unforgiving landlady who refuses to bend an inch. With only his small fox terrier dog, Flike, for company, and only one human friend – a late teenage girl pregnant by one of two soldier lovers – Umberto tries everything he can to pay his debts. He gets himself committed into a hospital run by a sisterhood to save money on food, tries to sell his watch and, at one point, comes close to begging. Returning from hospital to find his room in deliberate disrepair, he leaves to an unknown future.
Though Bicycle Thieves drew most of the plaudits and Shoeshine lead the way, for me Umberto D is de Sica’s greatest film. No film before or since has mixed such gloom with such humanity and symbolism. There’s something truly heartbreaking about Umberto’s predicament, not to mention unjust. The Italy of the time was a society that simply did not cater for old age; once you retired, you fended for yourself. The opening sequence sees Umberto rallying with other pensioners for more money. He just needs 20% extra to pay off his debts inside a year, but he knows there’s no hope of it.
The most pivotal scene in the film comes at the Piazza del Popolo when he firstly runs into an ex-colleague who runs for his bus rather than listen any longer to his plight. He then turns to begging, nervously placing his hand out, only to withdraw it on the pretext of checking for rain at the point when someone was about to give him something. Turning briefly to putting his dog to begging cap in hand, he soon stops when he sees his old boss approaching. He obviously likes Umberto and may indeed have helped, but he’s got too much self-respect to ask him for favours. He can only watch as his bus in turn wheels its way past the Pantheon, whose benevolent Gods have long since ceased to look favourably down on the citizens of Rome.
Like many of de Sica’s films, Umberto D relies a great deal on naturalism, and as in the earlier films he uses non-professional actors to good affect. Casilio is touching as the poor pregnant girl for whom the future may be equally bleak, but this is Battisti’s hour. There have been few if any performances of such quiet dignity in the history of the cinema. To watch his sadness mingled with the mere minutes of happiness his small dog affords him is almost painful. We share his joy at finding Flike again after fearing him killed at the pound, a place where dogs are sent to die when they have ceased to be useful to their owners. After three decades of loyal service he is rewarded with a seat on his own death row, a long, lingering death of poverty and solitude. How much of this is de Sica’s own vision and how much is legendary screenwriter Zavattini’s is open to discussion, but it remains a perfect example of their collective cinematic philosophy, right down to the ending being left open, its human and canine hero happily playing together but still on the road to oblivion. Whether they’re right and work is merely a stay of unemployment is debatable, but there is no denying the power of this, their masterpiece.
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I just watched this movie for the first time last night (in preparation for my own list of the 25 best films of the 50’s), and I must agree that it is a masterpiece. It could so easily have fallen over the edge into sentimentalism, but always just avoids it. I think Battisti’s emphasis on Umberto’s continuous attempts to maintain his dignity and that spark of defiance he always conveys even at the worst moments have a lot to do with this. What a great-looking movie, too! That crisp b&w photography and those long vistas down the hallway of the landlady’s house were really memorable. When he finally comes home to find a huge hole punched in the wall of his room, what a great and unexpected visual metaphor for the end of the hopes he has been clinging to. And the dog: it should have had co-starring billing. I believe I would give the edge to “The Bicycle Thief,” although only slightly, but there is no question that de Sica is in my own directors’ pantheon. Finally, thanks for identifying the Pantheon in the bus sequence. I recognized that building, but never having been to Rome couldn’t place it.
Just passing by.Btw, you website have great content!
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Making Money $150 An Hour
Actually, R.D, I haven’t been there either, but ancient history is another of my passions, so I know the locations and history of most of the important monuments in Rome.
I’d edge Umberto over Bicycle Thieves, but only just, but then Umberto rates lower on the 50s list than the earlier films did in the 1940s, which shows you how incredibly strong the 1950s were.
I’ve yet to find a definition of the dog’s name, “Flike”, as it appears in this 1952 movie. Twenty years or so later, it meant a flying bicycle, or, motor bike, however, those items were not invented in 1952.
Hi Mike. Funny, I used to be in touch with a guy called Mike Wilson a few years back. Big British film buff in Bristol.
Excellent post. I was quietly stunned by Umberto D several weeks ago. You wrote of the man’s room in disrepair. By that point, the landlady had arranged for her workers to punch a hole in the wall. The gradual takover of Umberto’s room graphically shows his loss of power and control over his environment. In terms of mise-en-scene alone, the film is consistently compelling, and de Sica does a good job of modulating the tone. It’s not always gloomy, and Umberto’s pride saves the film from sentimentality. I wondered how the gassing of the dogs in the pound was supposed to remind the viewer of Nazi Germany.
Thanks, filmdr, and yes, I’d have to agree with you about the gassing of the dogs.
Umberto D is perhaps my most favourite film. The despair he feels spirals and sprials down until he sees only one way out. I have felt like that at times, I think anyone who’s looked up from the bottom of a hole they dug for themselves has. I especially liked that deSica does not make this man an angel. His descent is due to his own extravagance, and his peppery demeanor keep this film from becoming maudlin.
That’s a wonderful ‘favorite film’ there Jeopardy Girl, and your description of the progression of the narrative anbd of the central character, played by Carlo Battisti, is perfection. Again, I say thanks so much for your marvelous insights.
“The most pivotal scene in the film comes at the Piazza del Popolo when he firstly runs into an ex-colleague who runs for his bus rather than listen any longer to his plight. He then turns to begging, nervously placing his hand out, only to withdraw it on the pretext of checking for rain at the point when someone was about to give him something. Turning briefly to putting his dog to begging cap in hand, he soon stops when he sees his old boss approaching. He obviously likes Umberto and may indeed have helped, but he’s got too much self-respect to ask him for favours. He can only watch as his bus in turn wheels its way past the Pantheon, whose benevolent Gods have long since ceased to look favourably down on the citizens of Rome.”
Allan this scene you describe above is indeed pivotal, most heartbreaking and so well described. The dignity and grace with which Umberto carries himself makes this ever more so heartbreaking. Old age can be cruel, sickness, loneliness are common, surely not something to look forward too. To be financially desperate on top of this is truly tragic.
Watching films like “Umberto D” and “Bicycle Thief” you can easily see the influence they had on the young Martin Scorsese which I think is evident especially in his early films “Who’s That Knocking at my Door” and Mean Streets.”
Yes, I’d certainly concur with that, John. Scorsese certainly took a lot from the Italian masters, though I think the primary influence on
Mean Streets in that regard was Fellini’s I Vitelloni.
Terrific comment there John!
I have “I Vitelloni” recorded but have yet to watch. May have to push it up on my list.
You need to see it, John. Not absolutely great Fellini, but near as dammit.
After my mum died, this film touched a nerve as my father, now 75 who migrated to Australia from Italy, with only his pet fox terrier to keep him company. The dog means the world to him and it was just uncanny to see a reflection of this on film (Flike the Dog is the spitting image of my dad’s dog). The period it was made would have been during my grandfathers era. Fortunately my dad has his children to look after him and enough money to see out his retirement, but even still the loss of a life still leaves one empty and lonely.
Great film and a great write up on this blog.
Thanks for the insight. I must visit the Piazza del Popolo one day…
I have put a link of clip in front of the Piazza del Popolo on my site.
http://www.previewfilms.net/details.php?image_id=257
the recent American indie, ‘Wendy and Lucy’ makes parallels to this story, (as well as ‘The Bicycle Thief’)… you should check it out if you haven’t seen it; it was one of my favorite films of last year.