El árbol de los zuecos

This is a really beautiful film. I am neither Italian, nor Catholic (nor even religious at all in the usual sense) but found this to be wonderful and involving. (I know Italy, and love it, though.) Taking place in around the turn of the previous century, the simple life of farming tenants on a lord's estate is portrayed with great charm and simple respect. You get a fascinating look at what to us now of course seems a backward combination of ancient religious myths and medieval magic, all believed in the hope of a better life in what is a difficult existence. Yet there is a hint of the modern world to come in the distant shouts and arrests of political activists glimpsed to the side, who are advocating a more fair economy, and less dependence on outmoded beliefs. The warm and dignified life of the loving families is quite believable, and no need to judge the comforts they cling to. In terms of length an pacing, it takes its time, it is true, but it is really worth it. A sort of living demonstration of the enduring human spirit, and the passing of time and history---even as old ways are dimly remembered and treasured for their sentiment.

If there were any reason for dropping out of normal life and dedicating oneself entirely to watching Italian films, this might be it! The majestic simplicity and dignity of this film make even the best contemporary films seem trivial and stillborn by comparison. Loved by sensitive audiences and critics alike, Ermanno Olmi's movie describes incidents in the lives of four families sharecropping in Lombardy at the coming of the twentieth century. Olmi's extraordinary command of imagery, movement, rhythm, and lighting conveys a potent nostalgia for Earth and the family of man. There is a scene in which images of a father carving clogs for his shoeless boy are intercut with the lives of the farm families. The music accompanying that scene is a Bach organ chorale. The effect is almost sacramental and entirely overwhelming and may be one of my favorite scenes in all cinema. That scene alone is worth more than all the digitalized special effects, car crashes, ocean liner sinkings, and the deafening Dolby vapidity of so much of the inane junk embraced undiscriminatingly by so many. If they only had the eyes to see, ears to hear, and the soul to love this wondrous work of art.

The most authentic version on this film has the original Bergamasco dialect track. The newer DVDs from Italy have the option of choosing this soundtrack.

This film really surprises. It is long and detailed, yet, it is amazingly suspenseful. The quiet sturdy look at rural life in Italy manages to accomplish the amazing feet of truly "being" a film of "the oppressed" rather than a mere analysis of "the wretched of the earth". Olmi's direction of the non-professional cast is superb and the film is beautifully shot and edited.

Don't be afraid of this film. It does not actually seem long, nor does it seem aimless or plotless. While one may say that "the whole pesant community" is the real protagonist there are clearly defined characters in the film whose narratives we follow. In fact, the films strategy is one of integration of these narrative strands in a seemingly coherent and logical way. A wonderful, very emotionally moving experience with a clear, sharp, political analysis.

The last time I felt swept and moved by a movie with so much depth was when I saw "Andrei Rublev" and "Eternity and a Day", and this movie is such like them when it fails to become a movie and becomes a modern piece of art.

It was like if someone would've been reading me a poem whilst watching such beautiful landscapes. And all through that, you feel in your own skin the love for their own soil. it seems as if they had been rooted to the grounds.

Certainly it is not for everyone's tastes but it is truly a moving experience.

Axel.

Very rarely, films transcend their medium and break through into some other dimension. These are not merely technically superb films with fine cinematography and wonderful performances. Rather, something else has been addressed; at the risk of seeming pompous, I'd call it "what it means to be human." Maybe some of you know what I'm talking about. After the film is over, you walk out into the world and your life has changed in some fundamental way. You actually experience colors and shapes and smells afresh, as though you've re-emerged into a different universe.

I can think of several films that have had that effect on me. Eric Rohmer's "Summer (Le Rayon Vert)" and Kieslowski's "Decalogue" spring to mind. But "Tree of Wooden Clogs" approached the core. I'm not Catholic, would pronounce myself an atheist if that didn't suggest the arrogance of certainty, but this movie comes as close to touching the soul as any I've ever seen. It is one of the most shattering, delightful, and profound works of art ever created. After first seeing it, I sat in my car, clutched the steering wheel, and sobbed for half an hour.

Since that day, many years ago, moments from it continue to haunt me. I'll be walking down a street lined with trees and remember the boy walking home from school. Out of the blue, the looks on the faces of the just-married young couple as they adopt a child will come to me. And, of course, the image of the villagers watching the lone wagon disappear into the darkness is one which will live with me until I die.

In short, as I stumble my own way through life, this film is one of the touchstones that reminds me why I'm here.