...und dennoch leben sie

Sophia Loren became the first player to win an Acting Oscar for a foreign language film in Two Women or La Ciociara in her native Italy. She plays the title role here, the other woman being her daughter played in La Ciociara by Eleanora Brown.

The story here is a relatively simple one, Sophia and Eleanora leave Rome due to the bombing of Rome just prior to the Allied invasion of Italy. The political situation is in one state of flux to put it mildly. In a matter of days, Benito Mussolini was overthrown and General Badoglio put in charge of the government. But the Nazis suspecting something was afoot sent in troops and met the Allies in a pitched 21 day battle at Salerno which like Waterloo was a close run thing.

At one point Jean-Paul Belmondo asks a couple of stray British paratroopers who landed way up behind enemy lines why the Allies didn't land in Rome. In fact they almost did land an army there, but Eisenhower canceled the landing at the last moment and probably saved a lot of lives doing so.

But this isn't about great battles, it's about Two Women just trying to survive the ravages of war in the best way they can. Sophia decides their best place is in her old village, south towards Naples. Before the film ends, she's given plenty of reason to rethink that decision.

Sophia was the Best Actress in 1961 for this film and for reasons I don't understand it was not given any other Oscar nominations, including for Best Foreign Language Film and for Best Director for Vittorio DeSica.

If La Ciociara has a fault it's that it's Sophia's show totally. The village characters and that of her one time lover Raf Vallone are left undeveloped. Only the daughter and young intellectual Belmondo who falls for the earthy Sophia seem to be on the verge of becoming three dimensional.

The subject matter could never have been done in an American studio with the Code still firmly in place. I remember back in the day La Ciociara was shown at the art house circuit and many young juveniles considered it a mark of daring to get in and see Sophia Loren expose more than her American films had done up to that time.

Sophia Loren deserved that Oscar, every bit of it. And you'll agree if you see La Ciociara.

It's WWII. Cesira (Sophia Loren) flees Rome away from the allied bombing for the sake of her 13 year old daughter Rosetta (Eleonora Brown). She's a widow of a loveless marriage and she's the object of everyman's desire. They go back to Cesira's home village. The idealistic anti-Fascist Michele Di Libero (Jean Paul Belmondo) falls for her. Mussolini is imprisoned and Michele is overjoyed. They even help a couple of English soldiers. The situation deteriorates as the war closes in and food becomes scarce. A group of Germans force Michele to lead them back to their lines. As the Americans approach, the villagers clear out. Cesira decides to go back to Rome on their own. They take shelter in a bombed out church where they are both raped by a large group of Arab soldiers.

Sophie Loren is magnetic. She powers every scene. Eleonora Brown does a good job keeping up. The story meanders a little. There are a lot of unrelated things that pop up. All of a sudden, there's a Russian deserter. The randomness sometimes help the story. When the story moves to the German occupied town, it really starts to move. The tension gets ratcheted up higher and higher.

Sophia Loren, aside from being one of the most sumptuously sexy women I have ever seen, proves herself here to be a tremendous actress. She has a melodramatic Italian flair that impassions her lovably aggressive character, a widowed shopkeeper in Rome during the Allied bombing in WWII, who flees with her beloved daughter to her impoverish mountainous native region. Throughout the story, she proves to be a strong woman, seasoned by pain and not having lost the fire and fight in her.

Like many European films of its time, Two Women is all about the characters and the current on which they flow through the film, a realistic capsule of a time and place. Vittorio De Sica, who made the beautifully small-scale film The Bicycle Thief, which is about a relationship between father and son, forms a companion piece with Two Women, which is about a relationship between mother and daughter. He addresses strikingly the unbearable love between a parent and their child.

Truly one of the greatest Italian films, this is an absorbing, emotional, modest journey with wonderful music; coarse, down-to-earth cinematography from the wonderful old days of gritty film prints and old school hands-on editing; incredible acting not only from Loren but from the young actress playing her daughter, who drastically transforms; and also from Jean- Paul Belmondo, who convincingly plays completely against type; and a beautifully emotional final shot. For those who feel detached from older foreign films, especially neo-realist, I have yet to see an Italian neo-realist film any more alive than this one!

I confess that this film was showing late one night on TCM and initially the idea of a war film was not an appealing prospect at one o'clock in the morning.

That being said,I realized how much we lose by prejudging film, and actors by their more recent performances. As Sophia Loren was popular before my time, I remember her from fluff and spy movies such as "Arabesque" with Gregory Peck. A forgettable film, at most. Not so for "Two Women".

The performance of her innocent daughter Rosetta, is also marked and memorable. Refugees from the bombing of Rome during World War II, Sophia Loren as Cesira, and her daughter are fleeing the city, come across relatives in the country, and encounter a harrowing fate.

The feel of the film is palpable and stark, the scene and the shadows of the men as they come across these two women in the effigy of a church, is ominous and effective. The expressions and body language of Loren are heart-rending and sorrowful, as we see her realize what has become of her daughter, what has become of their world. The scene I will remember most is where she is finally rescued, her daughter begins to sing, recovering from the attack. Cesira (Loren) turns her face outward, toward the window, ravaged and ruined, yet finding some strength to continue on. We see a multitude of emotions cross her face without uttering one word.

Truly a film not to be missed for Sophia Loren's performance alone. 9/10.

I gave this film 9/10 while understanding its weaknesses. First, as others note, the print is the worst I've ever encountered sometimes turning faces into gray pudding, but the problem was not so great to keep me from responding fully to the film's power, and I decided to evaluate the film rather than the print. I have more serious concerns about events at the film's climax which raise issues which are resolved too quickly. In fact these issues might be the subject of a whole new film, and if treated here they would require another hour of play time. The films hasty resolution of these issues makes important behaviors seem poorly motivated and unbelievable. However, the issues in question are not the central issues of the movie. When Cesira apologizes to her daughter (and at other points) I was left sobbing in spite of the film's failure to properly address the daughter's final trauma. This is not a about recovering from trauma. Rather, it is a film about human fallibility and self-deception or, as Michele puts it, "You can't escape, not even from yourself." Cesira faults others while never examining her own behavior. Like those around her, she acts only to preserve her own immediate interests. At the other extreme. Michele's idealism prevents him from realizing his own humanity. Only Rosetta demonstrates the purity to see beyond self-interest, and the instinct to truly tell right from wrong. Her downfall is the tragedy of the film. Yet through all of this the film shows us how, when pushed to extremes, these people are capable of forging deep human bonds. Such bonds have the power to redeem all as they finally redeem Rosetta. I can't conclude without adding my own appreciation for Sophia Loren's extraordinary performance.