Die tätowierte Rose

The Rose Tattoo is a solid film with terrific performances by 3 Oscar winners: Anna Magnani, Burt Lancaster, and Jo Van Fleet. Magnani landed the film version after Maureen Stapleton had originated the part on Broadway, and she is terrific as the smouldering Italian woman whose husband is killed when he is caught smuggling. The Tennessee Williams play touches on the usual ingredients of sexual repression and denial and hypocrisy. After years of mourning the dead husband (the Baron), Magnani finally gives in to sexual urges (with Lancaster) only after the swarm of village women (a pack of Italian harpy hags that acts as a Greek Chorus) convince her that the husband had been unfaithful. The subplot involves the purity of the daughter who is dating an equally pure sailor (Marisa Pavan and Ben Cooper). The subplot is boring. Lancaster is good as the simpleton truck driver who serves as the double for the dead husband, right down to the rose tattoo on his chest. Another rose tattoo shows up on the chest of the husband's floozie girl friend (nicely played by Virginia Grey), which serves as the "proof" Magnani needs to finally believe her husband's cheating. Lots of symbolism and circular plots, but the bottom line is the excellence of the acting. Magnani won a well-deserved Oscar for this film. Her scenes with Lancaster are electric. And Van Fleet is super as the shrieking customer (Magnani is a seamstress); it's no coincidence that Van Fleet won the supporting actress Oscar that year for East of Eden, since her performance in The Rose Tattoo is a world apart from that film. And yes Tennessee Williams can be glimpsed as a barfly at the Mardi Gras Club.

I recommend this film solely to witness Magnani's performance, which was an utterly beautiful piece of acting, indeed. Although I did not feel pulled into the plot very much, I did sympathize with Magnani's character because she played her part with such heart. I must admit that I was disappointed by Lancaster's overacting, and the minor actors also were not at all impressive. Also, I do not feel inspired to read the play itself because I don't think that reading it could compare to watching Magnani's riveting performance through which Magnani's soul itself seems to bleed.

Although I cannot think of another film with such an engaging actress, the beginning tone and ambiance of this film reminded me of other Tennessee Williams works. The atmosphere is open, naked, and almost frightening; Williams's plays always introduce characters that are very human--weak, lonely, unsettled--and deeply passionate. He doesn't take care to hide the frightening and desperate side of people even though we may not want to see that. He makes no exception in this piece, and this sense of humanity is most effectively portrayed through Magnani.

Tennessee Williams was a good friend of Anna Magnani, the great Italian screen star. It was with her in mind he wrote "The Rose Tattoo", but she never played it in the theater because she didn't feel too comfortable, at the time, in doing the play in English.

Anna Magnani was born to play Serafina; she smolders the screen every time we see her. She is the sole reason for watching the film. Daniel Mann miscalculated in the adaptation, by Hal Kanter, of the play he had directed on Broadway, and it shows. The basic failure is that he made the character of Alvaro Mangiacavallo into a buffoon. Burt Lancaster seems to have been directed to go for laughs rather than being the sensual man he is in the play. He must awaken Serafina from the self imposed mourning she is experiencing at the time they meet.

"The Rose Tattoo" has a Greek tragedy feeling. Watch Serafina at the beginning of the film shopping at the grocery store among the neighborhood women. Later, the same thing happens. At the most dramatic moments, the chorus comes to surround Serafina; it's a ploy to make her react to them and vent her anger at the ignorant women who are her neighbors and clients, but not her real friends.

Serafina is a dignified woman who is still living back in Sicily, even though she is now in New Orleans. Her daughter rebels against her mother, who can't understand the American ways. When her husband Rosario dies, her whole world falls apart. Rosario has been the only man in her life and she wants to stay at home and not face reality, until the appearance of Alvaro, who manages to win her over with his simple ways.

Anna Magnani gives a performance that is larger than life.

A great argument can be made that 'The Rose Tattoo' is a classic. It's a wonderful adaptation of a play by one of the most celebrated of modern playwrights, Tennessee Williams. It contains the performance of a lifetime by Anna Magnani, who won an Academy Award for it. The supporting cast also give excellent performances. It even has a fine score written by noted composer Alex North.

Magnani grabs hold of the role of Serafina Delle Rose and wrings everything she can out of it. She plays a lonely widow who is clinging to the idealized memory of her husband. She has little use for men (and not much more for women) until Burt Lancaster, playing an earthy truck driver, comes along and brings her back to life. Their courtship is swift and tempestuous.

Director Daniel Mann does a good job of making a movie out of what was once a play; only a few times do things get so wordy that you are reminded of the work's origin. Lancaster is fine in his role, but his character might be just a bit too broadly drawn. I was impressed with actress Marisa Pavan as Serafina's daughter, though she looks closer to 25 than the age of 15 the script says she is, not a unique occurrence in films. Her story also seems a little truncated compared to her mother's.

Time has not been kind to The Rose Tattoo, a 1955 release that garnered three Oscars, plus additional nominations. Originally written by Tennessee Williams as a play, the film's shortcomings now cancel out much that audiences might have found entertaining about it 47 years ago. The deficits include bad acting all around (with the exception of the star, Anna Magnani) and an uneven script by Williams (who among other things was apparently clueless about how an adolescent boy and girl, attracted to each other, might talk or behave).

Playing the role of the dim-witted but sexy truck driver who courts a grieving widow (Magnani), Burt Lancaster gives a highly exaggerated "comedy performance" that is occasionally embarrassing to watch. A great natural actor in his other films and noted for his controlled physicallity, Lancaster here gawks, bends, waves his arms, makes faces, cries (clownishly), and is generally ape-like, all the while failing to get inside the character he's portraying. (Leading American actors have always had a problem convincingly playing people less intelligent than themselves; see Lon Chaney, Jr. in Of Mice and Men or, more recently, Jack Nicholson in Prizzi's Honor for more examples of this.)

Under the direction of Daniel Mann (who also directed the play), and intended as a comedy-drama, almost everything in Rose Tattoo is either loud or overblown (though it may have been Williams' wish that it be played this way in a misguided attempt to heighten the humorous dimension of the story). The host of supporting characters are all portrayed as one-dimensional grotesques or harpies who telegraph their every thought or emotion by arm-waving, facial contortions, or semiphoring the kind of villainousness that went out in the early '30s. Nor does Mann seem to have fine control over the physical goings-on by cast members. In some scenes small groups of people rush back and forth like obedient cattle, too obviously responding to off-camera direction; and at the high school prom a male extra noticeably freezes for a second or two as he waits for Marisa Pavan and her sailor dance partner to leave the floor ahead of him.

Magnani, for whom the play was written (though she just appeared in the film, after she had mastered the rudiments of the English language), comes across as the only real human being among a slew of posturing marionettes. Her portrayal of a terribly put-upon Sicilian widow fighting off the knowledge of her dead husband's infidelity and desperately trying to maintain her dignity in the face of snide remarks and out-and-out insults is awe-inspiring. I doubt that her performance has ever been matched by any American actress before or after. (Only Vivien Leigh, a Brit, comes to mind as a mentally disintegrating Blanche du Bois in the film version of Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire.) Williams, who was famously homosexual, understood and probably identified with vulnerable women. (Years before, his own sister, when a young woman, had been seriously mentally ill, "put away," and had undergone a lobotomy. It was no coincidence that her name was Rose.)