The Bicycle Thief. Vittorio De Sica. Inspired by this film, Satyajit Ray decided, “I too will make cinema.” Thus was born ‘Pather Panchali’. At the top of any list of the most celebrated films of the neo-realist movement comes ‘The Bicycle Thief’. This new school of cinema began in Italy. It was a movement to bring the movie camera down from the studio into the dust of the streets. Those who would act would be ordinary people; there was no necessity for star-level performers. No cinematic glamour, the players were not professionals, the film’s atmosphere was entirely realistic. The stories would be simple, honest, real. While watching the film, you would never feel you were watching something contrived—you would feel these stories and these people were familiar to you. This melancholy I have witnessed up close, this joy too is intimately known to me. Among the master teachers of this school of candid portraiture of life on modest budgets, Vittorio De Sica stands foremost. His other masterpiece is Umberto D. (1952). Also in the neo-realist tradition.
The film’s plot is utterly simple. Umberto D. Ferrari is a retired civil servant. His very existence hangs in the balance as he struggles to survive on his meager pension. He spends his days in constant anxiety, quarreling with his heartless landlady over unpaid rent. Former colleagues and various social organizations turn their backs on him in his dire straits. Beside this mentally devastated man stood only his beloved pet dog and the landlady’s maid. The girl is unmarried, pregnant. Those who stood beside the helpless man were themselves helpless. This is how it happens. Finding no support for living, Umberto D. decided to commit suicide. Even that he could not manage. In this film we see that even without any meaning or hope for staying alive, a person can ultimately live simply for the sake of living.
De Sica’s screenwriter Cesare Zavattini wrote the scripts for both masterpieces—’The Bicycle Thief’ and ‘Umberto D.’ In his second work, he showed a more experimental approach to life. While watching the ninety-minute film, not for a single moment do we feel we are seeing something novel, unfamiliar, or unreal. This film is a meticulous and precise document of everyday, mundane life. I want to mention one scene. The landlady’s maid is preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Silently. She is then three months pregnant, unmarried. The father of her unborn child is unwilling to marry her. The girl is gently striking her own belly, tears streaming down her face. Just five minutes of scene work. Silent, still, powerful. This scene says everything without saying anything. This language is relevant and necessary for all times, for all people.
The film begins with a scene of pensioners demonstrating. They have taken to the streets demanding increased pensions. The protagonist Umberto D. is vocal in demanding pension increases, yet disappointingly this film does not walk the path of governmental policy or political reform. Our conscience is stirred when we see the landlady renting Umberto D.’s room by the hour to illicit lovers because his rent is in arrears; an impoverished old man’s helplessness and loneliness keeps us melancholy throughout the entire film. Most of this film is not so much dialogue-dependent as it is silent, one could say—there are no flashy dialogues or imposed acting, yet the lessons in life philosophy it imparts are eternal, trustworthy.
Those of us who love watching Charlie Chaplin’s films find Chaplinesque delivery in one scene of this movie. The poverty-stricken old man, who was once a civil servant, stands helplessly on the street to beg. To say he “stands” would be wrong—caught in profound doubt about whether to extend his hand or not, he unconsciously extends his palm for some time. The moment a passerby offers him financial help, his education, self-respect, his past middle-class standing immediately turn his palm face down. At that time, he places his hat upside down in the mouth of his faithful companion dog and hides a little distance away. The dog stands on two legs, holding the hat in its teeth, hoping for alms. Just then, one of Umberto D.’s former colleagues walks by and sees the dog, whereupon Umberto D. immediately comes forward from hiding and explains to his colleague that this is just a game the dog plays. Even in extreme poverty and helplessness, the recently fallen middle-class ego and sense of dignity will not allow a person to be diminished before familiar circles.
Martin Scorsese, in his documentary about watching Italian cinema titled ‘My Voyage to Italy’, places ‘Umberto D.’ ahead of ‘The Bicycle Thief’ in his list of favorites. He said, “The emotions shown in this film are spontaneous, the expressions and exuberance completely pure.” The actor who played the lead role in The Bicycle Thief was, in real life, a factory worker. De Sica encountered the gentleman who became Umberto D. one day while walking on the street. Vittorio De Sica’s father was named Umberto De Sica. He was a humble bank clerk and insurance company employee. This representative of the bourgeois class, Umberto De Sica, struggled against poverty his whole life to live with his head held high. While watching Umberto D., one begins to feel that Vittorio De Sica was actually painting a portrait of his own father with skillful cinematic brushstrokes.