•
Rating: What seemed like firecrackers were bursts of machine gun fire, while the somewhat louder bangs were hand grenades. With these tricks, the mafia gang of Salvatore Giuliano, emerging from the mountain rocks of Piana degli Albanesi, orchestrated and directed the dramatic requiem of Portella della Ginestra, on May 1st, 1947. The Communist Party had won the elections of the Sicilian Regional Assembly and this would have severely restricted the hegemonic activities of the landowners. For the peasants, it was a historic victory and needed to be celebrated. And what could have been colorful crackles to enhance the day’s cheer left eleven people lying on the grass, injuring thirty more.
Luchino Visconti, director, an intellectual very close to the PCI, having escaped deportation during the making of "Ossessione", was funded by the parliamentary body to go to Sicily and shoot a counter-information documentary on the events. The polychrome and violent beauty of that land was enough to flood the artist's abilities in no time, inviting him to stay to produce one of the masterpieces of Italian neorealism.
Inspired by Verga's "Malavoglia", Visconti goes to "Trizza", a hamlet of Aci Castello, recruits locals, and commits to immersing himself in their lifestyle that foresees and demands only one sacred goal: to bring home a crust of bread to satisfy their yearning mouths. There are no pastimes, and the few shops suffice to provide the basic necessities. The authorities are embodied in the small brigade of the Guardia di Finanza which, between the marshal’s gratifications and friendly inspections, sometimes hassles to quell the frequent brawls between fishermen and wholesalers.
In Aci Trezza, the sea is a gift from God that must be honored. And the men of the Valastro family sail it every night, hoping to return with full nets. The father, ‘Ntoni, Cola, Alfio, Vanni. The women of the house bless them and go about their household chores. The mother, Mara, Lucia, Rosa. For ‘Ntoni, there's also the love of Nedda, which is consumed in innocent kisses among the discreet rocks and prickly pears outside the town.
During the night, the timid footfalls on the few pathways to the sea blend with the waves lapping the peeled hulls of the poor boats. At dawn, as the air tickles the nostrils with salt, the voices of the fishermen can be heard, vigorous if fishing went well, foul if the nets have caught only water. That popular mixture of songs and curses enlivens the town, and as the sun irradiates the damp walls of the Cyclops' stacks, the fish wholesalers slide their claws onto the docks, armed with scales. The exploitation of the fishermen makes their fortune, and when incongruent evaluations are joined by arrogance, ‘Ntoni rebels and ends up in jail. He is released thanks to the withdrawal of the complaint by the lead wholesaler. ‘Ntoni is a skilled fisherman and in jail he would be of no use. But oppression persists, and the Valastros decide to go independent. They mortgage the house, invest those few savings in bags of salt and barrels for packing anchovies. Everything proceeds until fate wreaks havoc with a storm that plunges them into absolute misery. With the boat and nets damaged, they can no longer work. Hunger corrodes, and the wholesalers, thirsty for blood and revenge, buy at an obscene price the last resources of the Valastros, cruelly besieging even the amazement drawn on the faces of the hungry children. When the family crumbles, stoned by misfortunes, ‘Ntoni will be forced to succumb to the law of the strongest.
Visconti masterfully directs a communist film, which fundamentally denounces the exploitation of capitalism on the working class in the small reality of an arid Sicilian village. Performed by non-professional actors whose only language is dialect, the film is made of glimpses, expressions, metaphors that perfectly define the conditions of the time. An Italy just emerging from the deleterious Second World War striving to rise again, albeit timidly.The family is an institution, and if it is united, it can fight against any hardship. Unfortunately, as if it were a fierce norm, the sharks won't waste time swallowing the smaller fish, forced to adapt for the pursuit of a single goal: daily survival.
With this work, Visconti, disliked by the last embers of fascism in ashes and the raging might of Christian Democracy, wins the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival, despite having been preemptively hindered by critique and censorship. So there!
Loading comments slowly
