Mambo has grown on me. It's a better film than I first thought, with a few elements of greatness, some standard fare, and one big flaw. The latter is the film and sound quality; if ever a film needed professional restoration, this is it. The sumptuous costumes, beautiful Roman and Venetian scenes, elaborate dancing and singing, and sharp dialogue are all casualties from an old and tired print. The standard fare is the tragedy and melodrama of the story that's been filmed hundreds of times all over the world: poor girl and controlling boyfriend strive to better themselves, mix with the wealthy, and result is mostly angst and unhappiness, with a few glimmers of hope. The elements of greatness include outstanding dance scenes, which ooze the post-war artistic ethos, from Katherine Dunham and her dance troupe, as well as great acting from Silvana Mangano and Vittorio Gassman, with kudos also to Shelley Winters and Michael Rennie. What has grown on me is the portrayal of the raw, powerful, animalesque drives of each of the main characters, including Mangano's father and Rennie's mother, played in quasi-cameo roles to perfection by Eduardo Ciannelli and Mary Clare. The characters of Gassman, Ciannelli and Clare never change, they are stuck in their ways, and we disapprove. Rennie does change, and we approve. Mangano keeps some balance throughout the film. She is deeply conflicted, yet never totally embraces either of the extremes to which she is pulled, despite experimenting with both . What emerges is a morality tale of how social mobility can work, though hard work and art, and ethical (if unbelievable) choices.
