"Ladri di biciclette" develops around four main themes, the necessity of finding a job in post-war Italy, the representation of our country during that transition period, the parent-child relationship, and the theft of a bicycle.
Antonio (Lamberto Maggiorani), a good family man, doesn’t ask for much from life, just a job that allows him to provide his loved ones, simple honest people, with the little they need to live decently. The fortune of having found a job as a bill-poster soon turns into tragedy when a thief steals what is essential for him to perform his duty, the bicycle. Thus begins his odyssey in post-war Rome. Accompanied by his young son Bruno (Enzo Staiola), he wanders on the brink of despair through the streets, everything seems to be against him. Even the city appears cold, a Rome where misery and opulence coexist, honest people and petty criminals. Antonio's fate mingles with that of others, people who get by dealing with everyday matters, preoccupied with personal issues, indifferent to the tragedy he is experiencing. With a detached camera, De Sica explores the streets of the capital, showing post-war Italy in its dramatic authenticity, without unnecessary pity, as he experienced it himself; not showcasing the drama of one person but that of an entire nation, still recovering from the wounds of war; a country of great contrasts, big hopes, and great poverty.
"Ladro di biciclette" is an exemplary study on the dark side of life, direct, spontaneous, authentic, the film directly touches our emotions, a work that moves for its realism, humanity, social commitment. It is evident that the director looks at people with passionate compassion, but he remains faithful to his line of objectivity and detachment, without judging anyone; even Antonio is never depicted as a hero. Assisted by black and white shots, De Sica inserts scenes of moving intensity into the film, like when father and son stand dejected in the rain at the general markets, or when Antonio near the stadium considers stealing a bicycle himself. We are moved, but the director never shows that there could be a way out for the protagonist. In this context, the bicycle becomes the embodiment of salvation; Antonio seeks it desperately because his job, and his family’s very survival, depend on it. De Sica shot the film on the streets, having real people act, who had no more to do than play themselves; he does not deal with major issues, he tells a simple story, where there is pain, life, portrayed with a truthfulness alien to the Hollywood "dream factory."
The film largely thrives on the father-son relationship: Bruno is a good boy who respects and admires his father, hopefully following him in his hunt. Antonio takes him along so as not to feel lonely in his desolate search, it is from him that he draws the strength to continue; they have moments of conflict, but most of the time the little one suffers in silence. The dramatic crescendo unfolds exemplary, after Antonio realizes that he will not get his bicycle back and the situation seems with no way out. Then, he is forced to become a thief himself. Bruno watches as he rides off with a bike, and the film reaches the peak of emotional tension when the little one sees his father humiliated, slapped by the angry crowd that pursued and caught him. Antonio realizes he has been dishonored in front of his son, having compromised his dignity; it is the child’s tears that provoke the compassion of the bike owner, who decides not to report him. In the final scene, when the father takes the boy by the hand to return home, he understands his father's despair; he is aware of the past drama and the life that awaits him, for him, the adversities have been a reason for growth.
"Ladri di biciclette" is a film still relevant today. How many can identify with Antonio? How many struggle to make ends meet? How many carry on having too little to live, and too much to die? We live in a country with infinite potential, but also a country where the sly are respected and the poor folks keep getting screwed over (Sorry for the rhetoric, but I’m a bit pissed off these days).
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