Rapturous. A movie full of risks, yet steered with a completely confident hand. A small town in 1944 Italy is caught in the last stages of World War II; it is rumored that the American army is approaching to liberate them, and the Fascists holding the town have tightened their grip in response, mining all of the houses and ordering the populace to take shelter in the church. While most of the town complies, a few brave souls decide to venture out into the woods at night to try to locate the Americans themselves. What happens to them on the journey is shot through with horror and suffering, yet it is also as fantastical as "A Midsummer Night's Dream"--the townspeople have been through so much that life itself seems unimaginably absurd. And although the war has taken almost everything from them, it has also smashed class barriers and social restraints. Now at last (for example) the elderly Galvano can admit his love for the rich woman he could never think of approaching in peacetime.
Few films give us so many treasures; the heavenly vision granted to a young woman killed by soldiers in the instant before she dies; the improvised Communion in the village church, with the congregants dividing their own bread among them; the six-year-old narrator Cecilia (who, in a framing device, is telling the story in flashback as a young mother to her child at bedtime) finding a watermelon in the forest and smashing it with her bottom; a horrifying 15-year-old fascist who tortures and kills his victims in order to make his father proud; Cecilia tumbling onto a basket of eggs and, having been punished by her mother, spitefully smashing the two eggs that survived the fall; a teenage girl in the woods at night, hearing the distant blasts as her home is destroyed and remembering the first time she stripped in front of her bedroom mirror as she tosses away her housekey; the climactic series of one-on-one and two-on-two skirmishes in a wheatfield as the soon-to-be-defeated Fascists and the desperate townspeople--most of whom know each other, some of whom are lifelong friends--grapple to the death. It's slapstick black comedy, yet timed so well it just seems like the natural state of affairs in war--there's nothing arty or pretentious about it.
Few films give us so many treasures; the heavenly vision granted to a young woman killed by soldiers in the instant before she dies; the improvised Communion in the village church, with the congregants dividing their own bread among them; the six-year-old narrator Cecilia (who, in a framing device, is telling the story in flashback as a young mother to her child at bedtime) finding a watermelon in the forest and smashing it with her bottom; a horrifying 15-year-old fascist who tortures and kills his victims in order to make his father proud; Cecilia tumbling onto a basket of eggs and, having been punished by her mother, spitefully smashing the two eggs that survived the fall; a teenage girl in the woods at night, hearing the distant blasts as her home is destroyed and remembering the first time she stripped in front of her bedroom mirror as she tosses away her housekey; the climactic series of one-on-one and two-on-two skirmishes in a wheatfield as the soon-to-be-defeated Fascists and the desperate townspeople--most of whom know each other, some of whom are lifelong friends--grapple to the death. It's slapstick black comedy, yet timed so well it just seems like the natural state of affairs in war--there's nothing arty or pretentious about it.