L'albero degli zoccoli

The "Tree of Wooden Clogs", set at the turn of the last century, is the perfect film to watch as we approach the year 2000. The institutions of religion, marriage, and family have been (sometimes rightfully so) scrutinized and criticized over the last 100 years. However, the "Tree of Wooden Clogs" aptly celebrates these institutions as engines of survival. The slow pace of the film may not be for everyone but the serene simplicity of this film sparks more beauty than most of the high-tech films of today.

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.

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.

An artistic masterpiece that almost any observant Catholic will cherish, especially an Italian Catholic. It is unclear how nonbelievers will connect to the film. By watching the film one discovers that while material possessions may make life easier they certainly can be a stumbling block on the path to sanctity. These peasants really put late twentieth century American Catholics to shame.

The film slowly unveils to the viewers one year in the life of Italian peasants at the close of the nineteenth century. That's about it. There's no hero, no antagonist, and no great wrong that gets set right; it's simply a slice of life. I do not want to reveal too much of the story because I think it will spoil it for the viewer.

The film can serve as an educational tool for viewers with children. It's like going to an outdoor historical museum, only the viewer gets to see everything that it would take one whole year to see at the museum (without the crowds). For example, the director takes the time to show painstakingly what it was like to wash clothes one hundred years ago. It's essentially a living documentary of late nineteenth century Italian provincial life.

Most American audiences will have to get used to the slow pace of the film. Even the humor is extremely subtle. Surprisingly, I enjoyed the pace. The pace was silent, peaceful, and steadfast just as the families are in the film. To me it is an escape (ironically an escape from an escape) from many of today's films that just explode with sound effects and rock music; films that move at blurring speed with scene cuts that are made with the intent to maximize audience stimulation but often with the result of increasing our stress level. This movie is a restful reprieve.

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.