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The Bicycle Thief (Ladri
di biciclette) appeared at the top
choice in the initial 1952 Sight & Sound
International Critics Poll, dropped to number six
in the second poll in 1962 and hasn’t cracked the
top ten ever since. But while the 1949 film may
have lost some of its original luster with pretentious
critics, once in awe of the definitive example of
post World War II Italian
neo-realism, the simple film remains powerful
and unforgettable.
Director Vittorio De Sica
and writer Cesare Zavattini researched impoverished
Rome for inspiration and used non-professional actors
to achieve a cinema verité appearance. Thus, the
film captures the time and place exceptionally well.
The protagonist is Ricci (Lamberto Maggiorani),
who gathers with a large group of men every morning
hoping for work. He has obviously given up hope,
for Ricci is found forlornly sitting apart from
the group on the curb before his name is called
for work. The job requires a man with his own bicycle.
But the idea of getting
a job excites him. The job is for a poster hanger
that requires having a bicycle for transporting
himself and his equipment. Ricci had stated that
he had a bicycle on the application form, but he
has since pawned it for food. The prospects for
steady work and income encourage Ricci’s wife, Maria
(Lianella Carell), who strips the bedsheets to retrieve
her husband’s pawned bicycle. Wordlessly the camera
gives profound insight into Italy’s poverty by tracking
the pawnbroker as he climbs a huge tower of shelves
packed with other people’s sheets.
Of course we anticipate
that Ricci’s bicycle will be stolen, and De Sica
gives us a few moments of anxiety whenever Ricci
leaves his bicycle unguarded. On his first day of
work, Ricci is busy slapping paste on a Rita Hayworth
film poster and smoothing it out when another desperate
man runs off with his bicycle. Ricci runs after
the thief to no avail. The police are little help--this
is Rome, and there is no way that they are going
to place a high priority on locating a stolen bicycle.
“Find it yourself,” an officer tells Ricci after
recording the serial number for the records.
But the next day is Sunday,
and that gives Ricci some hope—a single day to find
the bicycle before his job on Monday. Ricci enlists
the help of his spirited young son Bruno (Enzo Staiola)
and a few friends and begins a frustrating search
for the bicycle and thief. That leads to some classic
and unforgettable scenes:
1. When Ricci gives
up hope and takes his son to a restaurant for pizza.
Bruno notices a family eating pasta and is told
by his father, "To eat like that, you need a
million lira a month at least."
2.The incredible scene
near the end when Ricci is tempted to steal an
abandoned bicycle—this is the scene that is often
excerpted when The Bicycle Thief
is cited in film discussions and examples of great
cinema.
Using non-actors to portray
the working class life of people struggling with poverty
with its implication that a form of socialism would
cure much of these economic woes, The Bicycle
Thief fulfills the essential characteristics
of Italian
neo-realism. But this is no economic treatise
and need no longer be viewed that way—no more so than
Chaplin comedies need be viewed as critiques against
authority and capitalism. The Bicycle Thief
works fine as a character study--a simple heartfelt
story of a man who only wants to provide for his wife
and child. Even without labeling it as the definitive
example of neo-realism, The Bicycle Thief
remains one of the world’s finest films.
With a prominent reference
in Altman’s
The Player,
a 50th anniversary re-release and preservation on
video and DVD, and an upcoming Criterion Collection
edition current generations now have a chance to
experience De Sica's definitive work anew.
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