This August, we look to Italy for inspiration for our Retrospective on Italian Cinema Classics. Read below for our thoughts on a number of influential Italian films from directors such as Vittorio De Sica and Michelangelo Antonioni:

Umberto D. (1952)

There’s nothing left for Umberto (Carlo Battisti) other than his dog Flike. Umberto is a retired government worker whose pension does not come close to satisfying his basic needs. He is threatened with eviction after being unable to come up with the money for his late rent. Umberto isn’t sure what to do and his circumstance is met with no sympathy from his landlord. His only solace is his dog, who of course loves him unconditionally. Umberto’s dog is perhaps the cutest dog put to cinema and Umberto is able to prompt his dog to stand on two legs and hold Umberto’s hat when Umberto can not bring himself to panhandle.

Umberto D. uses Umberto’s relationship with his dog to show Umberto’s descent into poverty and depression. When Umberto falls ill and is hospitalized, Umberto entrusts a maid to take care of Flike, but his landlord leaves a door open and Flike escapes. Umberto visits the dog pound to find his dog and the scene that follows is a truthful, depressing look at what happens when a dog is lost or abandoned. Luckily for Umberto, he is able to be reunited with Flike, but this euphoria soon crumbles as Umberto is wracked with helplessness and suicidal thoughts. He eyes the pavement below his apartment, but is stopped upon thinking of Flike. Umberto couldn’t stand to abandon Flike, but begins to come to the conclusion that he cannot care for Flike if he were to become homeless. Vittorio De Sica’s Umberto D. represents the finest of Italian neorealism, and truly demonstrates the strength of film as a visual language. Umberto and Flike can’t converse with words, and this is where the camera is opportune for storytelling. – Alex Sitaras

L’Avventura (1960)

“L’Avventura” translates to “the adventure,” and it’s hard not to see the movie’s title as a joke, a tease at the audience’s expense. Michelangelo Antonioni’s movie was greeted with boos at the Cannes Film Festival because many believed that the movie was the opposite of an adventure, in fact it was entirely without a plot, the detractors claimed.. L’Avventura is not a movie that teaches its audience how to watch it, seeming to promise mystery before failing to provide any answers. Like another 1960 movie, Psycho, the first movement of L’Avventura sets up a completely different movie, only for the woman we were led to believe was the main character to disappear, leaving behind a lover and sisterly figure to find out what happened. 

The movie begins with a group of bored young wealthy people yachting off the coast of Sicily. One of them is the spoiled and willful Anna (Lea Massari) who is unsure whether to marry or break up with her lover Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti). Looking for attention from Sandro, Anna fakes a shark sighting. There may actually have been a shark in the water. A phantom ship passes by far in the distance. Later, after docking on a desolate volcanic Island, Anna is nowhere to be found. Sandro, along with Anna’s close friend, the reserved Claudia (Monica Vitti) search throughout Sicily until they slowly become distracted by less important things. 

L’Avventura is not a mystery. It does not have a propulsive plot, because none of the characters are capable of moving a plot forward. In the words of Succession, none of them are real people. The reason why Anna was able to disappear so easily was that she was already a ghost, and any of the others, save Claudia, could have done the same. 

L’Avventura fascinates to this day because of its elusiveness, its ethereal way of telling a story. Tension and suspense are built, not through traditional means, but through trying to understand Sandro and Claudia’s intentions. L’Avventura is about a great many things- alienation, ennui, loss, the shallowness of the upper class – and conveys those ideas from its filmmaking, through tautly controlled shot compositions and editing rhythms. L’Avventura does not come to its audience, it pulls the viewer in and forces them to come to it. At the premiere, Antonioni was asked, “Do you think a film should be felt rather than understood?” He replied, “Yes, I certainly do. How do you expect me to explain my film?” – Megan Fisher

Amarcord (1973)

To today’s audiences, Amarcord can come across as brash and maybe even a little childish. But beyond the flatulence and boyish giggling is an autobiographical exploration of a year in the life of an Italian village and its zany residents. Amarcord is set in the 1930s, in the midst of fascism, and follows the experiences of Titta (Bruno Zazin) as he attends school, confession, family dinners, and the annual car race. Titta is enamored with Gradisca (Magali Noël), a hairdresser and his older crush, and Fellini’s filmmaking in Amarcord, translating to ‘I remember’, is dreamlike and evokes the imagination through Technicolor pastels. Scenes that depict everyday in Amarcord seem magical, despite nothing that would suggest non-realism. In fact, Amarcord is very much so grounded in its fear-inducing portrayal of fascism and its depiction of the weight of Catholic guilt as Titta experiences puberty and sexual urges. Amarcord would become Fellini’s last great film, less cryptic and fanciful than some of the later films in Fellini’s filmography. – Alex Sitaras

Cinema Paradiso (1988)

Many of us can recall how we fell in love with film, and Cinema Paradiso not only portrays a tale some of us may identify with but, for me, epitomises the importance of cinema. The film is set in a small Sicilian town and follows a filmmaker through his childhood, how his passion for film develops and the cinema of his home village, and his friendship with the cinema’s projectionist. The fact that it takes place in a small remote town demonstrates how cinema brings people together as when the local cinema screens a film, the whole community attends to watch. There are many endearing moments throughout the film, including comical when the audience revels in disappointment as the local Catholic priest orders the projectionist to omit any form of onscreen intimacy.

With the action also taking place shortly after the Second World War, where Italy was a part of the Axis powers, Cinema Paradiso accentuates the need for prosperity and escapism from the damage done to Italy, depicted in many films made in the country during the post-war era and which the cinema provides. – Ian Floodgate