"The Bicycle Thief" is so well-entrenched as an
official masterpiece that it is a little startling to visit it again after many
years and realize that it is still alive and has strength and freshness.
an honorary Oscar in 1949, routinely voted one of the greatest films of all
time, revered as one of the foundation stones of Italian neorealism, it is a
simple, powerful film about a man who needs a job.
film, now being re-released in a new print to mark its 50s anniversay, was
directed by Vittorio De Sica, who believed that everyone could play one role
perfectly: himself. It was written by Cesare Zavattini, the writer associated
with many of the great European directors of the 1940s through the 1970s. In
his journals, Zavattini writes about how he and De Sica visited a brothel to do
research for the film--and later the rooms of the Wise Woman, a psychic, who
inspires one of the film's characters. What we gather from these entries is
that De Sica and his writer were finding inspiration close to the ground in
those days right after the war, when Italy was paralyzed by poverty.
story of "The Bicycle Thief" is easily told. It stars Lamberto
Maggiorani, not a professional actor, as Ricci, a man who joins a hopeless
queue every morning looking for work. One day there is a job--for a man with a
bicycle. "I have a bicycle!" Ricci cries out, but he does not, for it
has been pawned. His wife Maria (Lianella Carell) strips the sheets from their
bed, and he is able to pawn them to redeem his bicycle; as he glances through a
window at the pawn shop, we see a man take the bundle of linen and climb up a
ladder to a towering wall of shelves stuffed with other people's sheets.
bicycle allows Ricci to go to work as a poster-hanger, slapping paste on walls
to stick up cinema advertisements (a large portrait of Rita Hayworth provides
an ironic contrast between the world of Hollywood and the everyday lives of
neorealism). Maria, meanwhile, goes to thank the Wise Woman, who predicted that
Ricci would get a job. Ricci, waiting for her impatiently, finally leaves his
bicycle at the door while he climbs upstairs to see what's keeping her; De Sica
is teasing us, since we expect the bike to be gone when Ricci returns, and it's
of course, it is stolen, no doubt by another man who needs a job. Ricci and his
small, plucky son Bruno (Enzo Staiola) search for the bicycle, but that's an
impossible task in the wilderness of Rome, and the police are no help. Finally
Ricci gives up: "You live and suffer," he tells Bruno. "To hell
with it! You want a pizza?" In a scene of great cheer, they eat in a
restaurant, Bruno even allowed to drink a little wine; the boy looks wistfully
at a family eating platters of pasta, and is told by his father, "To eat
like that, you need a million lira a month at least."
little later, to his astonishment, Ricci spots the bicycle thief, and pursues
him into a brothel. An ugly crowd gathers. A cop arrives, but can do nothing,
because there is no evidence and only Ricci as witness. And then, in the famous
closing sequence of the movie, Ricci is tempted to steal a bicycle himself,
continuing the cycle of theft and poverty.
story is so direct it plays more like a parable than a drama. At the time it
was released, it was seen as a Marxist fable (Zavattini was a member of the
Italian communist party). Later, the leftist writer Joel Kanoff criticized the
ending as "sublimely Chaplinesque but insufficiently socially
critical." David Thomson found the story too contrived, and wrote,
"the more one sees 'Bicycle Thief,' the duller the man becomes and the
more poetic and accomplished De Sica's urban photography seems."
Ricci is a character entirely driven by class and economic need. There isn't a
lot else to him, although he comes alive in the pizzeria scene. True, the movie
doesn't make a point of contrasting his poverty with high-living millionaires
(wealth is illustrated as the ability to buy a plate of spaghetti). But if the
film is allowed to wait long enough--until the filmmakers are dead, until
neorealism is less an inspiration than a memory--"The Bicycle Thief"
escapes from its critics and becomes, once again, a story. It is happiest that
its influence isn't entirely in the past. One of the 1999 Oscar nominees for
best foreign film is "Children of Heaven," from Iran, about a boy who
loses his sister's shoes. In it there is a lovely passage where the father
lifts his boy onto the crossbar of his bicycle and pedals to a rich
neighborhood, looking for work. The sequence resonates for anyone who has seen
"The Bicycle Thief." Such films stand outside time. A man loves his
family and wants to protect and support them. Society makes it difficult. Who
cannot identify with that?
De Sica (1902-1974) was a handsome man, much in demand as an actor, whose first
films as a director were light comedies like the ones he often worked in.
Perhaps the harsh reality of World War Two jarred the optimism needed for such
stories, and in 1942 he made "The Children are Watching," a film that
came soon after Visconti's "Ossessione." The Visconti film, based on
James M. Cain's hard-boiled novel The Postman Always Rings Twice is often named
as the first of the neorealist films, although even in silent days there were
films that boldly looked at everyday life in an unvarnished way.
Sica and others often used real people instead of actors, and the effect, after
decades of Hollywood gloss, was startling to audiences. Pauline Kael remembers
going to see De Sica's first great film, "Shoeshine," in 1947, just
after a lovers' quarrel that had left her in a state of despair: "I came
out of the theater, tears streaming, and overheard the petulant voice of a
college girl complaining to her boyfriend, 'Well I don't see what was so
special about that movie.' I walked up the street, crying blindly, no longer
certain whether my tears were for the tragedy on the screen, the hopelessness I
felt for myself, or the alienation I felt from those who could not experience
the radiance of 'Shoeshine.' For if people cannot feel 'Shoeshine,' what can they
as a term, means many things, but it often refers to films of working class
life, set in the culture of poverty, and with the implicit message that in a
better society wealth would be more evenly distributed. "Shoeshine"
told the story of two shoeshine boys sent to reform school for
black-marketeering; Kael's description of it could function as a definition of
the hope behind neorealism: "It is one of those rare works of art which
seem to emerge from the welter of human experience without smoothing away the
raw edges, or losing what most movies lose--the sense of confusion and accident
in human affairs."
Bicycle Thief," De Sica's next film, was in the same tradition, and after
the lighthearted "Miracle in Milan" in 1951 he and Zavattini returned
to the earlier style with "Umberto D," in 1952, about an old man and
his dog, forced out onto the streets. Then, in the view of most critics, De
Sica put his special gift as a director on hold for many years, turning out
more light comedies ("Marriage, Italian Style," "Yesterday,
Today and Tomorrow"). The two important exceptions are "Two
Women" (1961), which won Sophia Loren an Oscar for her portrait of a
homeless woman during the war, and "The Garden of the Finzi-Continis"
(1971), about an Italian Jewish family that tries to ignore the gathering
clouds of doom. Both screenplays were by Zavattini.
Bicycle Thief" had such an impact on its first release that when the
British film magazine Sight & Sound held its first international poll of film
makers and critics in 1952, it was voted the greatest film of all time. The
poll is held every 10 years; by 1962, it was down to a tie for sixth, and then
it dropped off the list. Its 1999 re-release allows a new generation to see how
simple, direct and true it is--"what was so special about it."