Viaggio in Italia

A masterwork. Heeding Martin Scorsese's advice during his documentary MY VOYAGE TO ITALY, I was finally able to see an English language version of this film on a Brazilian DVD release and the experience was an exhilarating one. The story of a couple on the verge of destruction, surrounded by the vestiges of Pompeii and a view of Vesuvius, is at once real and mesmerizing, and the captivating moment of truth presented in the finale is a stirring revelation. It's easy to see how this film pointed the way for the studied new wave romances to come, like Michelangelo Antonioni's L'AVVENTURA, Godard's CONTEMPT and even Stanley Donen's TWO FOR THE ROAD.

Seems long and drawn out until you get to the final moment which is a marvellous thing, then you realise how great a film it was, in hindsight.

Possibly influenced Bunuel - some of the tree lined avenues and the religious saturation of a culture, the slowness of the story, it all reminded me of Bunuel. It's also acknowledged to be an influence on Godard's Contempt and it was interesting to see how it inspired parts of that film - the estranged couple cast against stunning Italian Neapolitan scenery. Must be a great story for it to have been filmed so well twice.

This is the film that Truffaut writing for Cahiers proclaimed 'the first modern film', going on to praise Rossellini as the father of New Wave. If we don't want to be stridently literal about these things, I agree with him. A bunch of filmmakers who changed the face of cinema in the 60's are all connected to Rossellini and flow out from this film.

At the heart of it we have the familiar trope of a marriage falling apart, melodrama stuff. But modern, meaning understated and without the soaring emotion. We fill the gaps, providing our own understanding of how a relationship works. We participate as players.

So it's about this affair whose nothingness is revealed by the surrounding world, it withers away; the lavish villa with endless views of far horizon, the large, empty veranda where the two of them languish in comfortable lounge chairs. A little outside, it's the countryside of Naples that engulfs them with languid time and hot, lazy weather, a tabula rasa dotted with old ruins.

We're taken on a pilgrimage of these ruins, as the woman looking for a portent that will divine her predicament. The museum filled with statues, the old Roman fort, Vesuvius and Pompeii; Rossellini presents them as mute, ascetic images, images all pertaining to some austere representation into which the woman projects her own world coming to pass. None of them, of course, hold any answers, except as what they are - reminders of the perishable, impermanent world in which we try so hard to grow roots.

Meanwhile, back in Capri, the cynical husband is squandered in his own aimless voyage for something that will fill the time. He courts a woman, much like he did his wife perhaps all those years ago. He feigns and thrusts for desire. Finally he returns home with the same void gnawing inside. Passable stuff, as in La Notte some years later, but the important stuff is with the woman's journey; the Stromboli part of the film as it were.

It is all about the painful process by which ruins are made, time into memory. We are privy to one such enactment in ancient Pompeii (then still being excavated): into the hole once occupied by a dead body, that holds nothing now and is hollow except with shape, the archaeologists pour plaster in order to surmise the shape of that past. Yet what they retrieve is merely the replica of empty space.

Oh, there's the stupidly saccharine finale, no doubt imposed once again on Rossellini by his Italian distributors at Titanus. It's something to be on the lookout for, for how marvelously Rosssellini confounds his censors.

As the couple magically decide they finally love each other, the mob of peasants that surrounds them - participating in some local religious ceremony - cries out in jubilee about 'il miracolo!'. The two lovers are swept aside by people rushing to see, reunited in this nonsensical miracle. The final shot is of police offers looking stern as they inspect the scene, like the censors would the film. Whether or not we choose to accept the one miracle, boils down to whether or not we would the other.

I want to summarize Rossellini here; he's largely forgotten now - probably because when the cinema he envisioned finally took hold, he had already abandoned it. But he's one of the most important filmmakers we have known. You find out that so much of what eventually blossomed with film, grew first roots with him. His transcendent vision was exceptional.

The only misgiving - slight, very slight - is that everything is relatively precise with meaning. Empty space abounds here, the pure ascetic images, yet is mostly filled for us. We're left with simply unearthing the cast, reading the signs. Perhaps I'm saying this because he envisioned so far ahead that I'm comparing him in my mind with later filmmakers who abstracted deeper. No matter, Rossellini ushered cinema far enough.

Now it would be Antonioni's turn to shoulder it; he would supply the breathing, incomplete space into which the imagination can pour into. There is no cast that explains away with him, only the means of immersion into a space empty, waiting-to-be-filled with us (not by us). The ensuing voyage that finally brings us to The Passenger is one of the most fascinating that I know of, but that is covered elsewhere.

Viaggio in Italia (1954) was shown in the United States with the translated title Voyage to Italy. The movie was co-written and directed by Roberto Rossellini.

The film stars Ingrid Bergman as Katherine Joyce and George Sanders as Alex Joyce, her husband. They are both very British. (Sanders was British. Bergman couldn't handle the English accent.) They no longer love each other. They decide to go to Naples to try to salvage what's left of their marriage.

A marriage that's falling apart is a classic narrative. A trip to try to repair the damage is also classic. What's not classic is why anyone could believe that this marriage could be saved. Sanders tells Bergman that when he's alone with her he's bored. (Right.) He leaves Naples for a few days, and when he returns he picks up a prostitute rather than return to Bergman. He drives the prostitute to a park, and then takes home without touching her. (Right.) OK--it's 1954, but even so that's a weird scene.

The ending of the film is so bizarre that it defies description, so I won't describe it. Voyage to Italy is considered a Very Important Movie, and has a solid IMDB rating of 7.4. Maybe fellow raters saw something in the movie that I didn't see, or maybe they saw a different movie. I rated it 6, and that was a gift to honor Bergman's acting skills.

This movie is being an example of some simplistic but beautiful and effective film-making. It doesn't follow a big story in which a big conflict suddenly arises or something needs to get solved or found but it's simply a movie about a, somewhat elderly British(?) couple, on holiday in Italy, who suddenly start to realize that they have never really loved each other.

It's a movie that works because of how well done and beautifully it all got done. It obviously helps that the movie is being set in Italy and features some of the famous landmarks, in and around Napels. The movie focus a lot on the culture and history, since the movie is seen through the eyes of our two main characters, that are tourists and new to the country. There is always something happening in the movie, even though it really doesn't follow a that complicated or thick storyline. It's a movie that prefers realism and is basically a random slice of life and about marriage, that of course is not always anything romantic or love filled. Suddenly they start to learn more about each other and about themselves, which makes them realize that they are perhaps not meant to be together. Doesn't sound that interesting perhaps but the way the story gets told simply makes this a great one to watch, that also never bores. Granted that it's also a quite short movie.

The movie also works well because the characters in it are being realistic and they interacting convincingly with each other. Both George Sanders and Ingrid Bergman gave some fine performances in this movie and were a convincing screen couple, who's marriage has worn out.

It's also a movie that benefits from the fact that it got done in black & white. For some reason I think this movie would had been way more cheesy had it been shot in full color. Instead now the movie has some real class and beauty to it as well.

Despite that it's a movie set in Italy and also an Italian produced movie, with an Italian title, it's still an mostly English spoken film. At least the two main characters speak Italian throughout. So those who normally won't come near a 'foreign' film can also easily watch this one, if you pick up the right, original, version of it of course.

Simply one fine little, well done, effective movie, by Italian director Roberto Rossellini.

8/10

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