Divine Disillusionment in “Nights of Cabiria”
Roberto Rossellini was the first filmmaker to lens the harsh realities of survival in post WWII Rome. Under the banner of Neorealism, his 1945 film Open City was the first to commit images of the Italians’ not-so-quiet desperation onto scrounged celluloid. As a screenwriter for this masterpiece, it is hardly surprising that Federico Fellini’s early films also fall into this category, particularly La Strada (1954) and Nights of Cabiria (1957) (Mast and Kawin 364). This initial bleakness, however, eventually transformed into a vibrant Surrealism that would characterize his later works (Johnston). Roger Ebert, for example, has noted how Nights of Cabiria served as an intermediary between this shift in Fellini’s oeuvre (Ebert). Evidence of this is seen in the film’s dichotomy between the oppressive weight of the world and the immovable object that is Cabiria (Giulietta Masina). When compared to De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves (1948), the importance of cinematic technique in conveying Neorealist narrative becomes even more relevant. Both films’ camera angles, framing, and camera movement emphasize the harshness of life, albeit tempered with a resiliency of the soul.
Often in Neorealism, the futile effort of saving one’s soul is linked to the hollowness of organized religion. This occurs in Bicycle Thieves when the father and son pursue the thief’s elderly accomplice into a homeless shelter’s church service. Although supposedly a refuge, this sanctuary, when set in the context of their game of cat and mouse, merely serves as a hide out for their suspect. Their heedless interruption of Mass indicates a disregard for the notion of sanctity (although Enzo Staiola’s Bruno half-heartedly genuflects and crosses himself, thus demonstrating a semblance of piety). In Nights of Cabiria, the insignificance of religion is also explored. As Cabiria and the other desperate worshippers enter the revival tent, a high angle shot looks down upon them, making the worshippers appear powerless within the frame. The omnipotence of this God-like view gives credence to Cabiria’s momentary lapse of religious apathy. As her guilt is exploited amidst the religious fervor, her lack of self-confidence causes her to seek the cold comfort of ephemeral redemption (Mast and Kawin 366). This is evident when Cabiria initially pleads, “Bestow your grace upon me! Make me change my life!” Later, after observing the hypocrisy of the inebriated parishioners, she remarks, “Nobody’s changed” (Nights of Cabiria).
Neorealism often contains moments of unease created by foreshadowing a tragic event that we, the audience, are unable to change. In Bicycle Thieves, this moment occurs when Antonio (Lamberto Maggiorani) leaves his out-of-hock bicycle momentarily unattended in order to visit a neighborhood fortune teller. As he walks upstairs toward her apartment, the extended take of his bike centered in the stairwell doorway on the street below creates a frame-within-a-frame. A sense of anxiety is created since it makes the bike look trapped and subject to the whim of fate. The anxiety produced by this prolonged vulnerability is inexorably drawn out until later when Antonio takes his eyes off of it while working. It is at this moment when the actual theft occurs that our worst fears are realized. Similarly, in Nights of Cabiria, the full shot of Cabiria yelling “He loves me!” to Wanda (Franca Marzi) shows her framed behind a chicken wire fence (Nights of Cabiria). This wire enclosure symbolizes her entrapment in Oscar’s (François Périer) deceitful scheme. This also creates a sense of unease; we think she should be wary of his ruse to rob and kill her, especially since a similar misfortune befell her at the beginning of the film.
Open endings are familiar tropes used in Neorealism. In the case of both Bicycle Thieves and Nights of Cabiria, the final shots feature their protagonists walking down a road to an uncertain future. However, the manner in which the camera moves, or not, is instrumental in conveying their emotions. This makes all the difference in shaping the audience’s interpretation of their ambiguous exits. At the most basic level, the director’s goal is to stimulate careful thought in the viewers’ minds; specifically, how to remedy similar problems in their own lives (Johnston). Therefore, as Antonio and Bruno walk away with their backs to the static camera, they become lost among the crowd of the dispossessed; somnambulistically ambling towards the via’s vanishing point. Although we are unable to see their faces or know their fates, our perspective widens into a concern for all the impoverished Romans, who may or may not be walking off into a similar obscurity. On the other hand, the camera in Nights of Cabiria’s concluding tracking shot reveals an indefatigable Cabiria simultaneously crying and smiling amid the parade of young celebrants. The camera movement allows us to see the amalgamation of emotions in flux upon her face (Mast and Kawin 365). When she looks into the camera, she not only breaks the fourth wall, but our hearts as well. It is also an open ending, but in this case we connect with the individual within the crowd. Her involvement with us assuages our concerns about her future.
Perhaps the most frustrating aspect for some viewers of Italian Neorealism is the prevalent pessimism that exudes from each film. While many would agree that they are hardly “feel-good” movies, it should be noted that they provide an invaluable emotional catharsis, particularly among the active viewers in the audience. While most of us may not have had to endure the same lot as the protagonists in these films, our ability to surmount harsh conditions can be inspired by their inner strength. It is therefore ironic that the comedy genre’s “feel-good” aspect is derived from a loss of dignity (slipping on a banana peel) while Neorealism’s optimism is achieved from the retaining of one’s dignity.
Works Cited
Ebert, Roger. rogerebert.com, 26 March 2019, www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-nights-of-cabiria-1957.
Johnston, Denah. 32441–001: Film History. City College of San Francisco, ccsf.instructure.com/courses/24053.
Mast, Gerald, and Bruce F. Kawin. A Short History of the Movies. 11th ed., Pearson, 2011.
Nights of Cabiria. Directed by Federico Fellini, performances by Giulietta Masina, François Périer, Franca Marzi, and Dorian Gray, Paramount Pictures, 1957.
