This is Vittorio De Sica's last great movie. And it really is good.
Sophia Loren and her angelic twelve-year-old daughter, Eleanora Brown, run a small shop in Rome during the German occupation. A nearby explosion from an Allied bomb turns the place into a shambles and Loren decides to take her daughter and live with distant relatives in a small country town.
Life isn't a bed of roses there either, but it's better than Rome, with only the occasional handful of retreating German soldiers to deal with. The Germans are not shown as simply evil monsters. Earlier, before the deposing of Mussolini, a train load of soldiers is seen cheerfully whistling at Loren and chanting a song, just as any soldiers would do. Later, when the road is rougher, the Germans become more determined and forceful, again as most soldiers would, since their lives are at stake.
Then the Allies liberate southern Italy and the pressure on the citizens if relieved. The refugees in the small town, bid one another good-bye and leave. Loren and Brown begin their trek back to Rome to rebuild the store, but it's not as easy as it seems. The Americans whistle at Loren too. Who wouldn't? She's stunningly beautiful. She has the large expressive eyes of a lovable but wary cow. And her big boobs wobble with every movement she makes. The Moroccans who are fighting alongside the Americans are even more demonstrative -- too much so. They trap Loren and her daughter in a wrecked, abandoned church and gang rape both of them in a scene that will chill any viewer down to the bone.
As inured to harsh treatment as she is, Loren recovers consciousness and rushes to her daughter, sobbing and trying to wipe away the virginal blood from Brown's thighs. They continue trying to reach Rome, their pleas ignored by Americans who think Loren is crazy. It's impossible to know what is happening in Eleanora Brown's mind. She stares into space and barely speaks. Yet, when they're picked up by a loud and affable truck driver, Brown begins to flirt with him.
During this scene, the camera is aimed through open the window on the passenger's side, where Loren is sitting, slumping with fatigue. Her head sags against the door in a close up and we can see every crack and wrinkle on her lips, and the tears forming behind her heavy lids. It's a tragic moment. Loren pulls it off and De Sica gets it on film. She gives a marvelous performance. She won an Oscar for it, not that it matters.
What a splendid movie. When it was finished, after the necessary cathartic moment, I found myself thinking not only of Italian refugees but of all refugees of all wars. You're not likely to forget it quickly.
Sophia Loren and her angelic twelve-year-old daughter, Eleanora Brown, run a small shop in Rome during the German occupation. A nearby explosion from an Allied bomb turns the place into a shambles and Loren decides to take her daughter and live with distant relatives in a small country town.
Life isn't a bed of roses there either, but it's better than Rome, with only the occasional handful of retreating German soldiers to deal with. The Germans are not shown as simply evil monsters. Earlier, before the deposing of Mussolini, a train load of soldiers is seen cheerfully whistling at Loren and chanting a song, just as any soldiers would do. Later, when the road is rougher, the Germans become more determined and forceful, again as most soldiers would, since their lives are at stake.
Then the Allies liberate southern Italy and the pressure on the citizens if relieved. The refugees in the small town, bid one another good-bye and leave. Loren and Brown begin their trek back to Rome to rebuild the store, but it's not as easy as it seems. The Americans whistle at Loren too. Who wouldn't? She's stunningly beautiful. She has the large expressive eyes of a lovable but wary cow. And her big boobs wobble with every movement she makes. The Moroccans who are fighting alongside the Americans are even more demonstrative -- too much so. They trap Loren and her daughter in a wrecked, abandoned church and gang rape both of them in a scene that will chill any viewer down to the bone.
As inured to harsh treatment as she is, Loren recovers consciousness and rushes to her daughter, sobbing and trying to wipe away the virginal blood from Brown's thighs. They continue trying to reach Rome, their pleas ignored by Americans who think Loren is crazy. It's impossible to know what is happening in Eleanora Brown's mind. She stares into space and barely speaks. Yet, when they're picked up by a loud and affable truck driver, Brown begins to flirt with him.
During this scene, the camera is aimed through open the window on the passenger's side, where Loren is sitting, slumping with fatigue. Her head sags against the door in a close up and we can see every crack and wrinkle on her lips, and the tears forming behind her heavy lids. It's a tragic moment. Loren pulls it off and De Sica gets it on film. She gives a marvelous performance. She won an Oscar for it, not that it matters.
What a splendid movie. When it was finished, after the necessary cathartic moment, I found myself thinking not only of Italian refugees but of all refugees of all wars. You're not likely to forget it quickly.