Roberto Benigni
La vita è bella

This film has been talked about, for good and for bad, so much. In 1998, in newspapers, I literally read, every day, irrationally enthusiastic reviews on the one hand and really terrible ones on the other (some even full of ugly personal insults towards Benigni).

I’ll say it right away: this is not a masterpiece. The idea of the film, in itself, is splendid. Unfortunately, the idea alone is not enough to evaluate a film, or, more generally, a work of art.

The film is, as is known, divided into two parts. We all know the first part, and it serves as an introduction to the second. About the first part, I’d say: nothing special, but still a well-done job, despite the rough acting and some dialogue. Let’s move on to the second part, the one set in the concentration camp, which is the one that aroused, especially in Israel, furious reactions—reactions that today, unfortunately, have been forgotten.

The first incriminated scene is the scene with the riddle by the Nazi officer. For the purposes of the script, Benigni has to use a good man who, in the film, is the only one who keeps hope alive for him. Benigni seems to suggest that there were also good (and innocent... like his friend) officers who didn’t want the Holocaust, but who, however, had to obey orders. It just takes a moment of reflection to understand that it’s really too far from reality. It’s historically true that not all officers approved of the Holocaust, but it’s also true that in fact, they did it, staying in their positions, and therefore there’s no goodness in those who don’t approve but, in the end, remain silent about a tragedy. Put in very simple words, Guido’s Nazi friend is too good to be an officer...

The second scene is the comedic show scene where Benigni “translates in his own way” from German to keep the truth hidden from the child. This scene enraged an Israeli critic who—I perfectly remember—spoke of “an insult to a human tragedy.” I subscribe to that.

This scene really goes too far. The idea of hiding that horror from a child is as wonderful as it is noble. But in that dormitory, there were also many adult men in the grip of the anguish of imminent death who wanted to know what awaited them, and wanted to know the truth. Benigni should have invented something “normal,” like a lie and told the soldier that the child had to go to the bathroom, or that he had hurt himself and therefore needed dressing; get him out of the dormitory to prevent him from hearing the real translation. A moment of unheard anguish has become a mockery.

Obviously, if Benigni had performed a comedic show only for the child or some other friend in the grip of anguish, to make them smile and cheer them up, it would have been a different story. But serious moments and playful ones cannot be confused.

The third scene is the final “silence game.” Even a dear friend of mine, who detests this film because “you can't joke about things like that,” described it as “a truly moving scene.” I can only agree. This is a masterstroke, which however cannot overshadow the previous two falls.

In summary: there was a brilliant idea to make a really great film, but it required a real screenwriter and a real director. It's time to deflate the balloon.

A note on Benigni as an actor. At some points, he is, as usual, a negligible actor, lacking technique. But in the scene where he searches for his wife, and when he chases the truck just before being killed, he acts with the naturalness of a great actor, and his voice sounds like one of our best dubbers. I didn’t expect that. Obviously, from here to the Oscars, there is quite a stretch.