I wasn’t all that familiar with Umberto D. (period included in the title) when I came across it, but the Stacker description made it sound like it could be a comedy of some kind: an old man fakes an illness to keep from getting kicked out of his apartment by a greedy landlady. Meanwhile, the landlady’s maid takes in the old man’s loyal pet dog. Is that a comedy? A melodrama? Both? It’s an Italian movie, and I do appreciate how much this challenge is getting me to see more foreign language films, but I don’t know much about this one. Even most of the others I have at least heard of.
Well, it turns out that the movie isn’t a comedy–there’s nothing really funny about this movie–and while the melodrama content is a bit high, it isn’t really that either. Wikipedia, about as much research as I ever do before I write one of these up, says this is a prime example of Italian neorealism. That was a style of cinema where filmmakers worked to be as realistic as possible to show the economic and moral difficulties faced by the poor and working class, often using nonprofessional actors in the various roles. And yeah, that describes Umberto D. to a T.
The film follows elderly pensioner Umberto Domenico Ferrari (Carlo Battisti) as his life falls apart. Umberto worked for thirty years for the Ministry of Public Works, but like a lot of men of his age and station, his pension is not enough to cover his expenses. The film makes that clear as the story opens with Umberto as part of a large protest of pensioners that goes poorly when the police crack down on the old men demanding a 20% increase. Umberto may need it more than most: he owes his cruel landlady Antonia (Lina Gennari) for back rent, and she’s threatening to throw him out. And while owing money would be a reason for his landlady to be upset with Umberto, the film doesn’t present her as anyone to pity, particularly since she rents Umberto’s room out by the hour to amorous couples, and as soon as Umberto is indisposed at a hospital for a day or so, she immediately begins remodeling his room without giving him a chance to meet her deadline. Umberto would like nothing more than to pay his rent. He just doesn’t have the money, even after selling his watch.
If there’s anything going in Umberto’s favor, it’s that he does have two friends. One is his dog Flike. The other is the landlady’s maid Maria (Maria-Pia Casilio). Maria will take care of Flike and do what little she can to keep Umberto in his home for who-knows-how-long. The old man has no family, and he absolutely refuses to leave just because his landlady is being cruel to him. He insists he pays his debts, but he also feels the need to take care of Flike.
He more or less needs to do everything himself. Maria has problems of her own, pregnant by one of two soldier boyfriends. She just isn’t sure which one. And Antonia will push Flike out the door when Maria isn’t able to do much about it, prompting Umberto to leave the hospital early to rescue the dog from the dog pound.
Speaking as someone who loves dogs (while ironically owning a cat), this scene may have been the first to really hit me. Umberto has to take a number to get in line, and there are a lot of dogs there. He does find Flike, but the camera lingers on one scene to deal with a man deciding whether or not take his dog home or let the pound kill him. Likewise, Umberto follows a cart full of dogs being pushed into a gas chamber. The film doesn’t show any euthanized dogs, but the film likewise doesn’t pretend for a moment that that sort of thing doesn’t happen. And really, who doesn’t feel bad for dogs? They can get more empathy than humans in some movies.
As it is, Flike is the thing that keeps Umberto going. Maria can’t help him after a point. He’s homeless and hopeless, and the one thing he seems to be trying to do is find a new home for Flike where he’ll be OK. He’s too proud to beg, friends won’t give him a loan, and he has nothing left to sell. The landlady has already put a big hole in the wall of his apartment. He might as well see Flike safely placed and be on his way to, well, wherever he’s going to go. However, Flike keeps coming back. Yeah, this could be a comedy if done one way, but it doesn’t play that way. Flike is returned to Umberto more than once, sometimes of the dog’s own accord. So, when Umberto walks towards some railroad tracks with a train coming, he takes Flike along.
And then Flike saves his life by squirming free of his master’s arms and making a run for it.
That’s basically how the movie ends. Umberto and the frightened Flike make up and play catch with a pine cone. Umberto doesn’t have much money or a place to live. He just has his dog, and the two wander off playing. Is that a happy ending? I suspect not. Sure, the pair are reconciled, but that doesn’t change their situation any. But the film isn’t that sort of film. It’s not here to solve these characters’ problems. It’s here to say these problems exist, that old men like Umberto exist and need help that isn’t coming, that the cruel world would let an old man fall down such a hole, unable to pay bills, keep a roof over his head, or even maintain his dignity. There’s no easy out for a man like Umberto in the real world, so there isn’t one in the film either.
But at least he still has his dog.
NEXT: Italian neorealism is one thing I haven’t had a lot of experience with before, but another is French New Wave. That’s up next for me with the 1962 Francois Truffaut romantic drama Jules and Jim, or in French, Jules et Jim.
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