Often obscured in the wake of such great works as La Strada, La Dolce Vita, Juliet of the Spirits, and Fellini's 8 ½; Federico Fellini's Nights of Cabiria deserves more recognition for its own artistry and genius. Certainly, it received the 1958 Oscar for Best Foreign Film and has recently been restored and rereleased to the big screen to wonderful critical acclaim. As well, it was the first Fellini film to receive the special Criterion touch, with extra features on a DVD edition. The best part of the recent editions is that the wonderful 7-minute "man with a sack" sequence has been restored.

This sequence shows a saintlike man who feeds the homeless who live in caves on the outskirts of Rome. Until the restoration, the "man with a sack" sequence had only been seen by a small test audience prior to its formal debut at Cannes. Though some have speculated that the Catholic Church was behind the butchering (due to the implication that its priests were being criticized for lack of social involvement), the Fellini assistant gives a more plausible argument in an interview contained on the Criterion DVD.

The assistant claims that both producer Dino De Laurentiis and Fellini were concerned that a slower pacing of Nights of Cabiria would challenge audiences, so they made the cut. On the same disc, De Laurentiis amplifies this story, revealing that he was more adamant about releasing the shorter version than his director. In fact, De Laurentiis stole the negative to the sequence so that Fellini had no choice but to release the shortened version. That was unfortunate, because this sequence adds great depth to the film and explains a great deal about Cabiria's growth.

At the center of the film is Cabiria, played by Fellini's wife, the incomparable Giulietta Masina, who has aptly been compared to Chaplin's Little Tramp. Just imagining Chaplin and Masina appearing together in the same film makes me feel like uncontrollably laughing and crying at the same time.

Masina is in top form here in Fellini's final realistic film, her expressive face communicating so many comic moments with an underlying poignancy. Her eyebrows alone are textbook examples for pantomime artists to learn how to express the internal. Observing Masina's wondrous facial expressions and body language will often be more revealing than reading the subtitles, as she remains in total control of her body. It's like watching the human spirit itself being exposed on celluloid. Of course, a great deal of the credit must be shared with Fellini, as he would push his wife to frustration with far more takes than he would with lesser actors.

In the second of Fellini's major films starring his wife (sandwiched by La Strada and Juliet of the Spirits), Masina expands a small role from The White Sheik as a tough-but-waiflike prostitute who searches for true love and redemption. When we first meet Cabiria, she is happily accompanying her boyfriend along the dirty Tiber River. Before long, Giorgio has snatched her purse, pushed her into the river, and run off. When saved from drowning, Cabiria shows little gratitude to her rescuers but calls out for Giorgio, refusing that he would attempt to drown her for 40,000 lira. Her more realistic prostitute friend tells her that "They'd do it for 5,000."

Still, Cabiria has dreams; after all, she has her own cottage. Cabiria may battle the insulting grande dame that works the same low scale Passeggiata Archeologica, but she continues to hope for something better. She ventures to the classier Via Veneto and is intimidated by taller and more nicely dressed working girls, and is overjoyed when she gets picked up by famous movie star Amedeo Nazzari (Alberto Lazzari). He takes her to his luxurious mansion and has the servants prepare a night snack including caviar and lobster.

Clearly out of her element, Cabiria's joy is cut short when Nazzari's girlfriend comes to call and begs his forgiveness. Cabiria is discarded, sentenced to spending the night in the bathroom with the dog before the actor can sneak her out in the morning.

Cabiria is one tough woman, though, and returns to work the streets. But can she find redemption and true love? She is shocked upon discovering a once-beautiful prostitute now downtrodden and living in a cave, and she is distressed when she and the other working girls must hide in the bushes from a police raid. Following these events, Cabiria accompanies other streetwalkers on a pilgrimage to visit a shrine for the Virgin Mary.

Disappointed when this doesn't prove to be a life-changing experience, the indomitable Cabiria thinks she has discovered true love after meeting Oscar (Francois Perier), who has been touched by her pure-hearted revelations during a stage performance by a hypnotist. Indeed, this is a truly magical moment in the film that will reach into the audience's hearts as well.

We have only suspected Cabiria's softer side while observing her defiant and comical nature up to this point, but we now are firmly in her camp. We realize that she truly desires unconditional love, and this sets up one of the most unforgettable final scenes in film history. It's a scene that requires no words. All we need is Fellini's vision, and Masina's unforgettable face. It caused me to leave the theater with an inner smile and a dampness around the eyes.

The final sequence alone should erase any doubts about Fellini's genius. The high priest of cinema, Fellini refuses to preach to us, preferring to entertain with simple stories that work their magic and penetrate our souls. Such is the case with Nights of Cabiria.

On one level, Fellini spins a simple tale about a quirky and lovable working woman who inhabits the same world that we'll see in his immortal La Dolce Vita. Yet as this free-spirited woman mambos her way through the streets and night clubs, we gain empathy for her yearnings and find that we have a great deal in common with her. Where Fellini succeeds is that these thoughts linger long after we have departed the theater--his imagery continues to work on us. Few other directors have this visual gift.

The biggest question that remains--why Nights of Cabiria hasn't received the same notoriety as Fellini's other great works. In hindsight, the decision to extract the vital "man with the sack" scene was a huge mistake--cutting it was like severing the main artery to the film's heart. I'm happy this scene is restored, and the film can only grow in stature as more people discover it in art-house rereleases and on home video and DVD.