February 20, 2012

39 Umberto D. (1952)

****
Country: Italy
Director: Vittorio de Sica


A great film about what it is like to stand by and watch helplessly as you slip into poverty and even your dignity becomes excess baggage.
—Martin Scorsese on Umberto D.

In the 1940s Vittorio de Sica directed a string of movies that were both popular and critical successes, movies that helped focus the world's attention on Italian cinema and the emergent postwar film movement of neorealism. These films centered on children and told stories largely from their point of view—pictures like The Children Are Watching Us (1944), Shoeshine (1946), and The Bicycle Thieves (1948). In 1951 de Sica turned his attention in a different direction, to a bleak story about an impoverished elderly man and his dog. The picture, Umberto D., was De Sica's first box-office flop in Italy, and its failure prompted him to turn away for nearly a decade from the serious subjects and realistic presentation of the hugely influential school of filmmaking he helped pioneer. Today Umberto D. is generally considered one of his two greatest works, along with The Bicycle Thieves. De Sica himself cited it as his own personal favorite of his films.

Umberto D. opens with a scene that might have come directly from a modern newscast. Down a street in Rome a large group of people march toward the camera, waving placards and chanting slogans. As they approach, we see that these are not ordinary street protesters but dignified elderly men dressed in overcoats, hats, suits and ties. They are retirees who, seeing their fixed incomes eaten up by inflation, are shouting "Justice for pensioners" and pressing for a raise in their pensions. Near the front of the demonstration is an elderly man accompanied by a small dog. The man is Umberto Domenico Ferrari, a retired civil servant, and the dog is his Jack Russell-like mongrel, Flike. When the police arrive and break up the demonstration, Umberto and Flike scurry away. "I'm just a good-for-nothing old man," he says to another pensioner, explaining that he is in debt, has no relatives to help him, is plagued by a persistent cough and fever, and is about to be evicted from his room because he is a month behind in his rent.

The film is Umberto's story, and he is in every scene, everything shown from his point of view. The plot of the movie is quite simple, a series of small everyday events that little by little give us a complete picture of Umberto's life in all its abject humiliation and hopelessness. Umberto responds to his dire circumstances with a series of increasingly desperate actions. He sells his possessions, beginning with his gold watch and his books. He tries begging in the street but cannot bring himself to carry through with it. Instead he has Flike sit up and beg with a hat in his mouth while he hides behind a nearby building. When an old acquaintance recognizes the dog, Umberto runs up and tells him that Flike is only playing. He even contrives to have himself admitted to the hospital so that he can save the money he would ordinarily spend on food to apply toward his back rent.

After Umberto is released from the hospital, his situation begins to go seriously downhill. He returns home to find that his landlady is redecorating the apartment in an absurdly frou-frou style, the wallpaper half stripped from the walls of his room, a huge hole knocked in the wall between his room and the next one. Umberto's world seems to be literally crumbling around him. Worst of all, Flike is missing. Rushing to the animal shelter to look for his dog, he is horrified by the casual indifference to the fate of the animals there and barely manages to rescue Flike before he is euthanized. Returning to his room late that night, he finds himself standing at his window looking into the deserted street below, and we can tell from the numb expression on his face and a quick zoom to the pavement below that he is about to jump. It is only when he turns around and sees Flike sitting on the bed waiting for him that he abandons his suicidal thoughts, at least for the moment.

In Umberto D. de Sica, like Chaplin in his films, presents the world as a place populated by victimizers and the victimized. When people are not outright malicious like Umberto's callous, social-climbing landlady, they are indifferent to the suffering of others. Just about the only other person in the film who elicits a sympathetic reaction is Maria, the meek, kind-hearted teenage maid in the apartment where Umberto lives. When Umberto packs his belongings and sneaks out in the middle of the night, he unexpectedly encounters Maria on the staircase and says goodbye to her. The dejected expression on his face makes it clear that he has given up all hope and decided to kill himself and that Maria—like himself another of life's sad victims and the only person in the film to show him any affection—is the one person he will be genuinely sorry to leave behind.

Much of the second half of the film is occupied with Umberto's futile attempts to make some sort of provision for Flike's future. No matter what he tries, though, nothing seems to work out. Apparently convinced that he and his dog are destined to stay together until the end, he finally takes Flike in his arms and walks around the barrier at a train crossing and toward an oncoming train. When the terrified dog leaps from his arms and runs away, cringing behind a tree, this rejection is too much for Umberto and he pursues Flike, wheedling him until he comes back. De Sica might portray Umberto's world as an inhumane place, but in the end he declines to treat his viewers with such cruelty. If we can't be certain what the future holds for Umberto and Flike, we now know that for them there will at least be some kind of future. In a final scene reminiscent of the one in Chaplin's Modern Times, we last see the old man and his dog walking away from us down a path in the park, playing fetch with a pine cone.

This ambiguous ending might seem a timid one, the result of a reluctance by de Sica to follow through on the grim situation he has set up so relentlessly, but I think closer examination tells us it is not entirely arbitrary. If Umberto's pride has been the thing that has kept him going this long, the inflexibility and selfishness it has engendered have also been his greatest flaws. Perhaps his concern for Flike manages to chip away enough of that stubborn pride to make him more adaptable and less self-involved. After all, his resources may be limited, but he does have resources. And it's a psychological truism that nothing can take us out of ourselves and help us transcend self-pity like loving someone else more than we love ourselves. Maybe in the end, rather than Umberto saving Flike, the truth is the reverse, and it is Flike who saves Umberto.

There is no doubt that of all the neorealist filmmakers, de Sica had the strongest streak of sentimentality, and my description of Umberto D. might make it sound quite the tearjerker. But de Sica didn't see the film that way, maintaining that rather than being sentimental, it was a realistic film made "without compromise." I think he was being absolutely honest when he said this, because even though the subject of the picture might break your heart, de Sica does present it in a totally realistic, unmanipulative way. This is a technically simple film with no fancy camera work and only one brief instance of showy editing, when the train is bearing down on Umberto and Flike and de Sica uses some rapid cutting and the shrill sound of the train whistle for heightened effect. Otherwise he makes no overt attempt to pull the viewer's emotional strings either through technical means or through overemphasis, recognizing the powerful emotional force of the story and standing aside to let it do its work.

Still, there's no denying that Umberto D. is a litmus test of any viewer's susceptibility to sentiment in film: if this movie doesn't melt your heart, none ever will. It's the kind of movie which contains scenes, situations, and images—and inspires emotional responses—that you will never forget. And it contains two of the greatest performances ever committed to film. One by seventy-two year old Carlo Battisti, a retired professor from Florence who made exactly one movie in his life, as Umberto. The other by a mongrel named Napoleone as his devoted canine friend Flike.

You might also like:
Two Early Films by Italian Masters: The Children Are Watching Us (1944) and Story of a Love Affair (1950)
My Voyage to Italy (1999)

This post is part of the Classic Movie Dogathon hosted by the Classic Film & TV Cafe, which runs February 19-22. Click here for the full schedule.

39 comments:

  1. Great and post and entry in the doggy blogathon. The little dog gives more love and understanding than any person in the film, is wiser, and, in the end, more deserving.

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    1. As a lifelong dog lover, I was a sucker for this film. But that aside, Flike is a real sweetheart. I think of de Sica as one of the great humanist filmmakers, but he didn't have any illusions about how uncaring people could be to each other, even otherwise nice people when placed in stressful circumstances. His attitude toward Flike here reminds me of his attitude toward children in his earlier films--a bit idealistic perhaps, but he seemed to find a nobility there that isn't a bad thing for the rest of us to try to emulate.

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  2. Amazingly perceptive review of one of the great neorealist films (and often listed among the greatest all-time films). My interpretation of the ending is one of hope. In seeing Flike’s desire to live, perhaps Umberto has recaptured some of his. Certainly, he has realized—as you point out so well—that his selfishness almost destroyed what he loves most. De Sica uses the camera masterfully, especially in the closing scene which features two wonderful shots. In the first, the camera tracks Umberto and Flike as they walk down the ramp to the park and then stops as the duo moves into the background—Flike on a leash and Umberto burdened with thoughts of ending his life. Then, in the closing scene, De Sica repeats most of that same shot, with Umberto and Flike walking into the background as they play together. Only now, Flike is not on a leash—he’s jumping for joy. And Umberto, with a fresh perspective of life (courtesy of Flike), is shuffling happily (for the moment) as he encourages Flike’s leaps toward the pine cone. A great review and, yes, I agree: It’s Flike that saves Umberto.

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    1. Rick, thank you. And thanks for mentioning some things I wasn't able to address directly in the post. I too like to think of the ending as a hopeful one--although I think de Sica's open ending leaves it up to the viewer's inclinations to determine how hopeful--and also that Flike has helped Umberto regain the humanity his dire situation has nearly squeezed out of him. I really like the way you contrast the two scenes in the park, and I completely agree with your analysis of the meaning of the differences in the small details, a measure of de Sica's visual subtlety, something that often gets lost in the strong emotional responses his subjects tend to evoke. I really wanted to conclude the post with a photo of that last scene but could only find one of them when they arrive at the park, with Flike on the leash and Umberto still carrying his suitcase. The photo was a good quality one, but it didn't reflect what I wanted to emphasize, which is exactly what you describe, so had to settle for a verbal description only.

      About Umberto's selfishness: This is something I didn't really notice the first time I saw this film. But in rewatching it in preparation for the post, I was struck by the visit to the pound. I was so moved by it the first time around that I missed that telling detail of Umberto's reaction to the other man trying to reclaim his dog. This man is a peasant of clearly less means than Umberto. He needs only a few hundred lire, which he doesn't have, to save his dog. We know that Umberto has several thousand lire, yet he doesn't offer to help the man. He has shown some signs of being overly self-concerned before, but I thought this really drove the point home. That's what started me reflecting more deeply on the meaning of the film's end and also that maybe Umberto was a more complex person than he struck me at first.

      Finally, thanks for organizing the Dogathon, an original idea that reinvigorates the idea of the film blogathon.

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  3. I am very moved by your description of the film. Yet another I haven't seen but have placed on a "must" list. Even so I can tell you do it justice. Kudos. Great write-up!

    Aurora

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    1. This one and "The Bicycle Thieves" are essential viewing for anyone interested in film history or foreign cinema. I also especially recommend "Shoeshine," "Two Women," and "The Garden of the Finzi-Continis" for those interested in de Sica. He's in my directors' pantheon, and those five are for me all masterpieces.

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  4. Oh, my! This is such a poignant profile of de Sica's beautiful work. It was fascinating to learn that Battisti only played this one heartfelt role. And I loved Napoleone's work as his life-loving canine friend Flike. What an exquisite post!

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    1. The neorealists often used non-professionals in their films, sometimes mixed with professional actors. It is hard to believe that Battisti had no acting experience, he seems such a natural--so polished and unself-conscious. He really does carry the movie.

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  5. Awwww Umberto D! My eyes are welling up just thinking about it. de Sica at his best and this film's plot, situations could translate so easily anywhere and any time. The plight of the poor who have been ousted onto the streets after doing nothing more than working hard then only wishing for a quiet life in your old age.

    It certainly deserved all of it's accolades (the Writing nod by the Academy).

    The little dog doesn't steal the film from Carlo but his presence is a significant party of the story.

    A very nice write up, tribute to a wonderful film.
    Thanks for bringing back such beautiful memories for me.
    (Now that I'm so sad after reflecting on Umberto, I think I'll wait to read the Old Yeller review.)
    Page

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    1. Good point you raise about the universality of this movie's situations. That universality is the thing that keeps the work of what I think of as the humanist filmmakers like de Sica--and in particular, the early work of the Italian neorealists--fresh and relevant. The details of place and time might be different, but the essential truths of human emotions and behavior endure.

      It is a sad movie--right up to that ending, which like Rick I find a hopeful one. I'm normally wary of giving too much of the plot away, but I wanted to reassure anyone who might not yet have seen it that it's not one of those films where you watch the protagonist sinking lower and lower to an inevitable bad end. I can take this--and often actually enjoy it--in a stylized picture like a film noir, but in a realistic picture like this one I find it impossible to take any pleasure in watching someone slowly crushed.

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  6. I first saw UMBERTO D as part of our curriculum in my college film course, junior year. I remember in our discussion afterward it came up that Flike saved Umberto, fittingly for the old man who earlier the film saved him in the nick of time at the shelter.

    Sadly, the filmmaker's point about shelter indifference is still a timely one.

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    1. That sequence in the shelter is hard to watch, in fact would be impossible to watch if your attention weren't focused on Umberto and his mission. It breaks my heart to realize this still happens. And it makes me angry that animal owners who wouldn't dream of openly mistreating their pets often won't take the responsibility to get them spayed or neutered.

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  7. While The Children Are Watching Us is my favorite de Sica film, Umberto D. is also a good. The relationship between Umberto and Fike is quite touching--and I agree that Fike saved his master. The scenes where Umberto is looking for Fike are nerve-racking as well. I just knew Fike was going to get euthanized. Good, but obscure, choice for the Dogathon--I suspect you have introduced this film to many.

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    1. Kim, I can certainly understand why you like "The Children Are Watching Us" so much. I discovered it by accident and loved the way if pointed ahead to de Sica's next films, the ones that really made his reputation. It already showed his command of film storytelling and his preoccupation with themes he would continue to explore in his neorealist films. I wasn't originally planning to participate in the Dogathon, then at the last minute remembered "Umberto." I certainly hope that anyone reading the post who hasn't seen the film will give it serious consideration.

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  8. R.D. ~ thank you for your beautifully lyrical review of a film I have yet to watch (but I plan to change this as soon as possible). I hope you won't mind an uninformed allusion, but the vague ending of "Umberto D." conjures images of “Nights of Cabiria” with Giulietta Masina’s Cabiria grieving the loss of her dreams and a man she believed loved her. She finds herself walking down a deserted road that is suddenly filled with young people rejoicing in life, and in a very Chaplinesque image, a clown-like tear appears beneath her eye. Although the characters are from different backgrounds, and their troubles arise from different sources, each faces an uncertain future (if only Cabiria had a Flike in her life).

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    1. Great comparison to "Cabiria," which is my own favorite Fellini film. It's actually closer in spirit to Chaplin than "Umberto" because of its blend of pathos and humor, with Fellini's own brand of weirdness thrown into the mix. Cabiria's resilience in the face of adversity is what makes the unfortunate things that constantly happen to her acceptable. Only a true innocent could retain such optimism after such disappointment.

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  9. For those that haven't scene UMBERTO D., it's available on YouTube in a pristine print with good subtitles. The only downside is having to watch it in nine parts, but that's a small price to pay for viewing a great film.

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  10. de Sica was certainly the Italian Chaplin, as you inferred in your review. I have not seen this, and have to say I am really excited about finding it. Obviously Chaplin inspired de Sica, and I'm sure I would pass the litmus test for emotional reaction to this film. Excellent review!

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    1. Becky, the resemblance to Chaplin is to me unmistakable in this film. The whimsy isn't there, but the complete identification of the filmmaker with the victims of bullies and of social injustice definitely is. De Sica's ability to get us on the side of his characters right from the beginning is the same as Chaplin's too. Some complain of Chaplin's sentimentality, as I'm sure they would of de Sica's here. I don't have any problem with it because it's honest sentiment that's honestly conveyed, and that honesty tempered with the suggestion of hope is what makes the painful situations bearable.

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  11. This sounds like a great film and - admittedly - I likely wouldn't have heard about it if you hadn't reviewed it. Thanks!

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    1. As always, I was hoping that some readers wouldn't have seen this film. I'm sure it wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea, but if the way I described it made it seem appealing, I don't think you'll be disappointed.

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  12. The only thing that is almost as nice as a boy and his dog is an old man and his dog. Great review for a film I had never heard of before. I may have to give this one a try later.

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    1. I find that the elderly in films tend to be either cloyingly idealized or treated as objects of ridicule. This movie is a rare exception that acknowledges the age of the main character and deals with the problems of his age, but treats him as a real human being that the viewer can understand and identify with.

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  13. This sounds like a very moving film. Another, film I have not yet seen but have added to my "must see" list. Awesome post!!

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    1. Thank you. It is indeed a moving film. It confronts the hardships of Umberto and people like him head on but still leaves room at the end at least for survival in the face of problems that are still with us.

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  14. R.D., I'll admit I've never watched any Italian neorealist films from start to finish, but your blog post has me interested. To borrow a line from Jim Jarmusch's DOWN BY LAW, it's a sad and beautiful world, and judging from your poignant review and well-chosen photos, UMBERTO D reflects the man character's world with great care, thought, and above all, humanity. I'll keep an eye out for it. Thanks for the opportunity to read about what is clearly a film well worth seeing!

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    1. Dorian, yes the neorealists were great observers. This was partly due to practical considerations--the difficulties of making movies in postwar Italy--but also an artistic decision. They tried to wrap their observations about life in simple but compelling stories and characters, which I think explains the appeal of their movies at the time and the enduring appeal of films like "Umberto" today.

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  15. This is a great review. We've added this to "the list".

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  16. Great post about a truly amazing and heartbreaking piece of cinema. I've got this one on Criterion DVD. DeSica is my favorite Neorealist director.

    Kendra
    vivandlarry.com

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    1. Kendra, the Criterion DVD is, of course, excellent. Enthusiasts of classic (and for that matter, modern) foreign cinema worship at the altar of Criterion. Yes, it is heartbreaking, but in a good, cathartic way, which I hope I conveyed. I hadn't thought of which is my favorite neorealist director, but de Sica is the only one in my directors' pantheon, so I suppose he would be mine too. (Although Fellini and Antonioni got their start working with neorealist directors and incorporate elements of neorealism, especially in their early films, they weren't really part of the original school of directors.)

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  17. R.D.,

    I'll admit that I have seen very few Neorealist films. Something I'm not particularly proud of, that's for sure. Your lovely essay about Umberto D has piqued my interest and I've added this film onto my very long list.

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    1. Jill, de Sica is definitely the most accessible of the original neorealist directors, because he seemed to be less detached and more emotionally involved with his subjects. So his films are a good place to start for anyone wanting to find out more about neorealism. Most people seem to respond favorably to this one and "The Bicycle Thieves."

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  18. R.D.

    A magnificent essay to go along with a brilliant film. I was fortunate enough to see both this film and BICYLCE THIEVES on the big screen at our local historic Tampa Theater a few years ago. The Chaplin comparisons you make never dawned on me but they are spot on. I found both of these films emotional and unforgettably moving. Umberto D is one of the masterworks of International cinema!

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    1. John, what a wonderful double feature that must have been. To be honest, the Chaplin comparison didn't occur to me either when I first saw "Umberto." I think the strong emotional response the film evokes pretty much wipes everything else out on first viewing. I'm glad I chose this one to write on for the Dogathon because it allowed me to watch the film again in a more detached way and find nuances that I hadn't before.

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  19. Thank you for this insightful review. I've had this film on my must-see list for years but have yet to do so. Now I need to move it up toward the top.

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    1. Filmboy, thank you! I first got interested in neorealist films many years ago in college cinema classes but had seen only a couple of the better known ones until more recently, when I started to make an effort to fill in the gaps. This is one of the absolute best and, I think, one of two or three with the most universal appeal. (The others would be "The Bicycle Thieves" and Rossellini's "Open City.")

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  20. "In Umberto D. de Sica, like Chaplin in his films, presents the world as a place populated by victimizers and the victimized."

    I couldn't agree with you more R.D. You have written a magnificent review of a neo-realist classic and one of the supreme masterworks of the cinema, a wrenchingly emotional film that (as you rightly note) would only leave the hardest of hearts unmoved. Yes, Battisti and his canine leave a lasting impression, both of the untested variety (said as I laugh thinking of this year's "professional" turn by Uggie in THE ARTIST) The film captures all the physical and mental despair of old age in this film and there is not a single concession to commercialism. UMBERTO D is a string of De Sica masterpieces with BICYCLE THIEVES and SHOESHINE.

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    1. Sam, that victims/victimizers dichotomy is also particularly noticeable in the two other de Sica masterpieces you name, "Shoeshine" and "The Bicycle Thieves." I think it's one of the things that makes all those films so powerful--even after more than sixty years--and so universal, like the best of Chaplin. I first saw "Umberto" not too many years ago during the fifties countdown at Wonders in the Dark. Rewatching it brought out a lot of subtleties I hadn't paid enough attention to in that original viewing. But even though I knew full well what to expect, I found the film's ability to move not at all diminished!

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