Yes, it's all one picture. The first title, used by Netflix, is from the adapted novel, but that wasn't allowed in UK theaters. The second appears on screen in the edition I watched, but with the blacklisting of director Edward Dmytryk, it was interpreted as anti-Christian, hence the third stab, which didn't really help. Perhaps it's just as well not to use the original title, because from what I read, the film ends about where the book begins.
In the 1920s, Geremio (Sam Wanamaker) lies about owning a home in order to persuade Annunziata (Lea Padovani) to move from Italy to Brooklyn and marry him. They still hope to scrimp and save for one, thanks to a generous realtor (Karel Stepanek), even as their apartment-dwelling family gets bigger. They almost make it before Black Friday. After that, Geremio and his buddies in the bricklaying business get desperate enough to take on a low-safety demolition project....
The opening confused me a bit, because it actually takes place late in the story and the transition to the beginning isn't very clear. Nevertheless, I have a fair idea of why it was done so: to warn us early on that things would not be happy. And don't be fooled when it finally starts to look like a happy ending. Still, from the book synopsis, it could have been much worse.
You might get the impression that I'm spoiling things. Well, believe me, the events are largely predictable, even without the preview scene. After all, the makers weren't trying for cleverness. They wanted a highly credible tale that would strike a chord and chill our souls. Nobody comes across as a villain or much of a hero; Geremio is unlucky but partly makes his own misfortune.
You don't have to be anywhere near communist to find the results affecting. It's hardly propaganda to note what a sink hole poverty can be. At its bleakest and most blatantly symbolic, the feature could be deemed excessive, but we've had plenty more excessive since.
I can't love CiC; it feels too unnecessary. But it is admirable on its own terms. And it may well find a receptive audience in the present.
No comments:
Post a Comment