Italianamerican

The beginning of Martin Scorsese's career had much to do with his urge to portray the Italian-American Roman Catholic experience. Who's That Knocking at My Door and Mean Streets, for instance, are not just films about low-level hoods getting into trouble but on a more profound level dealing with the virtually reflexive affectations born out of their culture, heritage and masculinity complexes. One can see these movies over and over again and discover an undertone never before realized, because is not just Scorsese's interest in the subject but his lifelong saturation in it that gave them such endless dimensions and jittery spirit. Italianamerican, shot after returning from Hollywood to rediscover his ethnic roots, whether or not this home movie of sorts has the same vibrancy or histrionics as the director's features, is the last necessary word on the subject. Any vagueness in imagining the look and feel of the Italian-American middle-class Roman Catholic existence will be enriched by this 50-minute homemade doc.

The Scorseses talk about their experiences as Italian immigrants in New York among other things, while having dinner at their flat on Elizabeth Street. It is purely incidental that Scorsese's father Charles is quiet much of the time, guarded, slowly growing comfortable with the camera, while mother Catherine is with no trouble at all completely her zestful self. Just as if the director had taken us along while visiting his parents, they discuss, with little apparent preparation, the family's origins, their ancestors, life in post-war Italy and the burdens of poor Sicilian immigrants in America struggling to acquire livelihood and earn enough to support their families. She also instructs how to cook her meatballs. If you misunderstand her instruction at all, don't worry; the recipe's in the credits.

Italianamerican is very, well, easy, but it's one of the most endearing things a director has ever done. He shares his parents with us, his old home, the stories that brought him here. The quirks of his parents remind us of those of our own parents. It is pleasant just simply to watch two people who are never afraid to pick a fight with each other, have their many clashing opinions and have learned to let it all slide, to live with each other in peace. Their hostility is not hostility to them; it's just how they talk to each other.

Sweet little documentary where Catherine and Charles Scorsese casually talk old stories of their immigration, childhood, cooking..etc Random stuff. It is one of those rare pieces of work that can put it's audience in good mood and can make us appreciate little things.

I absolutely love this DOCUMENTARY!! They spoke just like Italian people talk if you were brought up like this you will totally understand why you are the way you are They were just like my grandparents. Listening to them tell stories brought me back to the days I miss so much I could watch them for hours. I would listen to my aunts and uncles talk for hours (drinking wine and espresso)telling these stories never ending stories .. The stories were intriguing. I really felt like I belonged in this family. There's something about Marty's Mom and Dad that relaxing they can be your own parents what a gift I stumbled across.

I got to see a clip of this documentary when Martin Scorsese came to Providence, Rhode Island to accept an award on behalf of Brown University. We got to see a small clip from every directed film that Scorsese had made in his 40 plus year career. Out of all the films, Italianamerican got the biggest laughs and the longest applause. Having been the only Italian and the only person who did not attend Brown University that got into Brown's auditorium (the security was terrible) to see Scorsese, I enjoyed the realism that Scorsese captured by watching his parents be themselves in front of the camera. All the other Irish people who attended the event enjoyed the film as well, but not as much as me.

Martin's grandfather arrived in America in 1901. My grandfather arrived in 1888, during the Great Blizzard. Martin's father recalls how Italians were treated by the Irish. During the Columbus Day parades, the Irish would make fun of the Italians, ending in a huge fist fight.

Like his father's family, my parents grew up in poverty. There were large families living in small living places. My ancestors came to America to work for a $1 a day. As a hod carrier, my grandfather carried bricks and mortar up and down ladders all day, 12 hours a day, 6 days a week. Even when he was dying from prostate cancer, he had to work, pissing blood, to support the family.

Life was not a bowl of cherries, yet my parents believed in the American Dream and worked hard, saving their pennies, to provide their children with a decent life.

If you are an Italian American baby boomer, you will relate to this film.