Umberto D
It’s interesting that, in 1952, both Vittorio De Sica and Akira Kurosawa released films about aging men fighting for more time to stay alive. Both of their countries had been aligned with Nazi Germany during World War II, but in both “Umberto D” and Kurosawa’s “Ikiru,” the filmmakers are asking for empathy towards their aging characters, whom were both part of the bureaucracy- although the main character in “Ikiru” still is- and have little to show for their years of service. The difference is, Watanabe knows he doesn’t have much time left, and he wants to accomplish something meaningful before he goes; Umberto D just wants to hold on to his dignity a little longer.
I feel like I’ve seen “Umberto D” about a dozen times before, having rewatched Martin Scorsese’s “My Voyage to Italy” several times. While he certainly goes into depth about the vital story beats of films in that documentary on Italian cinema, “Umberto D” still landed with me as a profound, deeply personal story about a life disregarded in a capitalistic world. Between “Umberto D” and “Bicycle Thieves,” De Sica and screenwriter Cesare Zavattini might have told the truest, and most profound, stories of living in poverty cinema has ever produced. They are beautiful portraits of humanity struggling to survive.
As I’ve gotten older, and become more responsible for not just my well-being in the future, but my mother’s and wife’s, the struggle to survive financially has become very real. When we first see Umberto (Carlo Battisti), he is outside a government building, with others whom are awaiting their pension payments, or hoping for increased payments. He lives in a single-room apartment with his dog, Flike, and a landlady for continually raises his rent, regardless of how far behind he gets. Umberto isn’t blowing through his money wantonly- he’s just trying to live. The maid at the boarding house he lives in, Maria (Maria Pia Casilio) is a sympathetic ear, who has her own issues- she is pregnant, but is unsure which of the two soldiers she’s going out with it belongs to. But, she cares about Umberto and Flike, and is an advocate for them with the landlady; she’s immovable, though- it’s all the back rent he owes, or she’s out. The film is about Umberto trying to hold on to his life, and trying to make the best choices for himself and Flike. When he’s in the hospital for a week, it’s the landlady’s chance to be rid of him- causing Flike to run away is a great way to do it.
De Sica and Zavattini’s story craft feels inauthentic in a lot of ways, but not when you’ve seen people struggle for a wide variety of reasons, and certainly not if you feel the experience of Umberto’s downward spiral the way they do. De Sica dedicated this film to his father, and it feels like a movie that was made for a loved one who sacrificed much for the people they cared about. As the film continues, we see more about what it will mean for Umberto to make choices for himself, and for Flike, and we don’t wish that on anyone. The film becomes about them- Flike needs his master, and Umberto needs him. The ending- which Scorsese shows in its entirety- hit me like a ton of bricks watching the movie as a whole. I’ve seen it plenty before, so I knew the beats De Sica was playing off of. And yet, it moved me to tears because we come to understand the choices Umberto feels like he needs to make, and why Flike is his salvation. We don’t know whether the rest of their lives together will be any better, but we feel as though we’ve seen the emotional depths they’ll have to go to before they can continue. This movie is a sledgehammer.
