Bicycle Thieves
For a long time, American audiences knew this film as, “The Bicycle Thief,” but the original title is much more evocative, and makes you think about what you’re watching for the first time. The plural implies an event that we will not see until later, and when it does, we are still a bit startled, and yet, we understand it completely. The main character’s arc is one of increasing desperation, and ultimately, despair. What else could he do?
It’s a credit to actor-turned-director Vittorio De Sica that “Bicycle Thieves,” voted the greatest film of all-time four years after its release in the first Sight & Sound poll, has such a bleak story, but doesn’t feel like a slog to get through. Part of that is the running time of 89 minutes, but there’s also the dynamic between Antonio, the man searching the streets of Rome for his bicycle, and Bruno, his son, who is along with him on the journey. Tensions flare up, as they always do between parents and children in moments of stress, but they care about one another, and support them through thick and thin.
The story of the film is adapted from a novel by Luigi Bartolini, and Cesare Zavattini’s story and screenplay (which had several other hands on it) plays like a parable, told on-screen rather than heard in a church. We begin with a sea of workers waiting to see if they will have jobs, even temporarily, and one man- Ricci (Antonio’s last name) is called. He is sitting off to the side, and a friend gets him up front. Antonio (Lamberto Maggiorani) has a job, but there’s a catch- it requires a bicycle, which he has pawned for money. His wife (Lianella Carell) will do what she can to make sure he can work, including pawning the bed sheets to try and get money to get the bicycle. Bad luck befalls Antonio right away, however, when his bicycle is stolen, and he’s unable to catch up to the thief. The film follows Antonio, his son Bruno (Enzo Staiola), and some friends as they try to find either the bicycle or the thief, before it’s just Antonio and Bruno, walking the streets alone, on an endless search for hope.
“Bicycle Thieves” is one of the most famous examples of Italian neorealism, the films that came out of post-war Italy in the late 1940s from a number of filmmakers who wanted to highlight the humanity of the Italian people, which got lost under Mussolini during WWII. A beloved screen star before the war, much of De Sica’s best work came out of a desire to give dignity to those society seems to forget. This might be the most unflinching and honest look at what it’s like to live in poverty, unsure of where your next meal will come from, we’ve seen in a movie, and yet, De Sica’s approach is entertaining, as well. This isn’t some whimsical fairy tale like “City Lights,” but it has the same deft touch of pathos Chaplin brought to his work. The score by Alessandro Cicognini adds to that in its simple beauty and power.
So many scenes stand out. There’s Antonio’s harassment of a homeless man he saw with the possible thief during a church service; Antonio and Bruno sharing a meal together after they have a fight; the early scene where Antonio and Maria decide to pawn their sheets so he can get the bike; and finally, the moment the film has seemingly been building up to, where Antonio’s desperation gets the best of him, and his final humiliation happens, in front of his son no less. That his son remains by him gives him hope for the future, but for the moment, he’s left to his feelings of inadequacy. It makes sense that De Sica wanted to convey this at this moment in time.
