|
The main line of action is from Griffith, drawn delicately to get a humble mountaineer's perspective of the Risorgimento. The unification of a nation is the awakening of a conscience, namely the lanky, bearded shepherd's (Giuseppe Gulino), who must leave his young bride (Aida Bellia) to join the Allied forces against marauding Bourbon patrols. "You have time. Sicily doesn't." By rowboat, train and horse cart, a mission complete with secret passwords and last-minute rescues. Political divisions are overcome, the top-hatted loudmouth who declares "I am for autonomy" joins the others at last, elsewhere firing squads surround churches. The occasional Mussolini aperçu ("Don't think too much. Action is better") sticks out amid the gunfire, nevertheless Alessandro Blasetti keeps his national epic human-sized—Garibaldi figures glancingly at the head of a procession ("Simpatico!" somebody guffaws), the wife in the middle of the patriotic whirl scans the crowd for her husband. Landscapes and edifices are marvelously crumby, the nonprofessional faces are out of Piero della Francesca, all of it is covered by fresh and flexible technique (rapid panning shots, studio lighting projected alfresco). The padre's valor, the sentry's dilemma, integral part of i mille. The spacious treatment can be traced ahead to Huston's The Red Badge of Courage (three parallel columns of rebels climbing a hill in Calatafimi, each a different shade of gray), Fuller's Run of the Arrow (Garibaldi on horseback, seen eye-level above a bridge), and Leone's The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (dying soldier surreptitiously comforted on smoky battlefield). Rossellini helps himself to the labors for the great centennial, Viva L'Italia. With Gianfranco Giachetti, Mario Ferrari, Maria Denis, and Ugo Gracci. In black and white.
--- Fernando F. Croce |