Umberto D

I saw "Umberto D" again (Vittorio de Sica, 1952) last night. I must have first seen it about 30 years ago.


I'm not sure why it's commonly lumped together with the other great Italian Neo-Realist Films, because it certainly looked very smooth and polished to me. The other films (I'm thinking of "Open City" again, and even "Battle of Algiers" 1966, are a lot rougher around the edges in every way: lighting, framing, editing, and even acting.


And it's difficult not to seem like a hard-hearted American when discussing the plot: here's a man who has a sore throat. He dials the phone, two men show up at his door, and drive him to the hospital, where he stays for about a week, for free.


When Hollywood tackled the same subject, we got "About Schmidt" 2002, with Jack Nicholson, a comedy.


I really sat down and looked for original framing, a la Antonioni, and found none, but this is certainly not a Hollywood movie, and the best example I can use is the one everybody remembers about "Umberto D": the dog.


A Hollywood film would "personalize" the dog - make him into a character. Think about it, every Hollywood comedy goes for it: the "reaction" shot of the dog. An actor does or says something, and we cut away to the dog for a reaction shot. It's cheap, easy comedy, and it works every time.


Not in "Umberto D." This dog is a stunt dog in the best sense of the word: he does everything he has to do to move the scene along, but that's it. We move in close only when it's important to know what the he's doing, like holding the hat to beg. Otherwise, no closeups, no ground-level shots, no dog POV. And that's what makes this Neo-Realist.


So there's my appreciation: none of that Hollywood baloney and, still, everyone remembers that dog.