Tuesday, September 12, 2017

OVP: The Nights of Cabiria (1957)

Film: The Nights of Cabiria (1957)
Stars: Giuletta Masina, Francois Perier, Amedeo Nazzari, Franca Marzi
Director: Federico Fellini
Oscar History: 1 nomination/1 win (Best Foreign Language Film-Italy*)
Snap Judgment Ranking: 5/5 stars

Sometimes I go through long stretches where I don't see a film by a true master of film, and it catches me off-guard.  I watch an enormous number of movies, but seeing a picture by someone who completely changed cinema, or had a complete identity onto himself, is a bizarre thing indeed, particularly since there's far too much sameness in mainstream pictures today.  The angles, the stories, the way that characters are so attuned to reality-it's fun to step outside of that routine and catch a picture where the characters are larger-than-life, the filmmaking provocative and you know you saw something unique.  That was my experience while viewing The Nights of Cabiria, one of the very first films to win a competitive award for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars.

(Spoilers Ahead) The movie is centered around Cabiria (Masina), a poor prostitute in Italy who is nearly killed in the opening scene by her lover (the unseen Giorgio), and then is quite defiant upon being rescued.  Cabiria is a larger-than-life figure, and her sole pride in the world is that she isn't someone living in a cave or under a bridge, but does in fact have a house of her very own, albeit an extremely small and dank one by most measures.  The film follows her as she is romanced by two different men, both of whom are more interested in themselves than in the love she is bursting to provide.  Since it's Fellini, you see a massive number of colorful characters pop up, including garishly-makeuped women and complicated religious figures, but at the center of the entire film is Cabiria herself, always ready to tackle the next mountain until she is betrayed by her husband for her money.

The picture lives and dies off of Masina, and thankfully it's in capable hands.  Cabiria is close to an impossible part to play without shooting for the rafters: as written, she's literally changing her mind about even her best friend Wanda within a scene, and can go into an expressive tirade about the woe of her life with little provocation.  But Masina finds the character's center, creating in her the same sort of perseverance that Charlie Chaplin was able to bring in his best roles, a combination of deep heart and physicality.  The movie wouldn't work without her strong sense of self, and since she succeeds, the film succeeds.

Honestly, it's hard to put into one review all of the feelings you get with a movie like this, with so many vignettes and insights into the extreme, blistering poverty of post-war Italy.  Cabiria looks rich compared to some of the people who come before her because she has a roof over her head, something that is strangely juxtaposed when an enormous family moves into her house when she sells it, realizing that these figures are happy to have what most of us wouldn't wish on our worst enemy.  The frightening final scenes, where the only man who has ever shown her kindness turns out to be a conman and Cabiria begs for death is jaw-dropping.  Here we realize how much of what she puts in front of us, the strength, is driven by survival rather than internal pride, and how cruel life has been to this kind woman, who has begged the world to stop mistreating her but it won't relent.  It's a towering moment in a film filled with such scenes, and followed by the iconic stroll she takes down the road amidst a troupe of vagabonds struggling (and then succeeding) in making her smile.  Masina finds a way to show the audience that Cabiria will continue to fight, and continue to lose, but will never give up.  It's a deeply bittersweet ending, one that reminds me in a lot of ways of The Bicycle Thief, but a staggering check on our own humanity.

There's a lot to unload here, but I'm going to leave a couple of things (like, say, the fascinating religious walk where a hoard of people beg the Madonna for forgiveness and for a reprieve from their pain), to discuss in the comments if anyone would care to join me.  The water's warm-dive in!

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