(Warning: I will try to avoid spoilers where possible, but there are bound to be some sprinkled throughout.  Proceed with caution.)

Bicycle Thieves (1948)

A truly classic film is a perfect convergence of technical skill and innovation with an eloquence of emotion and honest humanity, an alchemy that is difficult both to replicate or quantify.  (Ironically, quantifying that is the job of the film critic.  Oops.)  The quintessential Italian Neo-Realist film Bicycle Thieves, an undeniable classic, is so affecting because of its simplicity.  A man in post-WWII Rome, in economic times that make what we’re living through seem like the Roaring ’20s, is lucky enough to get a job hanging posters around the city.  His family pawns most of their belongings in exchange for a bicycle, which is essential to him keeping the job that is the family’s only hope.  Of course, (SPOILER!) the bicycle is stolen, with the remainder of the movie following the man and his young son searching the city for the stolen bike.  What breaks my heart (besides the boy’s cherub-like face, all pudgy and wide-eyed) is the man’s constant loss of dignity in front of his son, first because of his inability to shield him from the harsh, unforgiving world (a parental duty that, in the end, everyone fails at), and in his failure as a role model to his son, as he is driven to make moral compromises to protect his family.  As he makes the movie’s title plural, he sacrifices his own soul to put bread on his family’s table, and the shock and realization that his father is as flawed as anyone reflected on the boy’s face is enough to send me over the edge. …Continue reading this entry