Vittorio De Sica's Umberto D. is a simple film that contains all the intricacies of the lives it shows us. Our main cast of characters is relatively small, yet through De Sica's gaze we get a real sense of who they are, where they've been and where they will inevitably end up. As with the director's previous films (chief among them 1948's Bicycle Thieves), Umberto D. is a picture of Italian neorealism, and so a suitably bleak tale can be expected. But more so than in that earlier film, De Sica shows us that even when life is relentlessly crushing down upon us, there can be the smallest of things to take solace in. For Umberto Domenico Ferrari, this is his little canine companion, Flike.
Umberto (Carlo Battisti) is an elderly gentleman living in post-war Rome with his faithful dog eternally by his side. Though he is well dressed and outwardly respectable, poverty is nipping at his heels and eviction looms as his tyrannical landlady (Lina Gennari) attempts to push him out of his meagre accommodation. The one person on his side is the young maid, Maria (Maria Pia Casilio), who has her own share of troubles to contend with. She is three months pregnant, but is unsure which of her two lovers is the father. Umberto's debts mount up as he struggles to stretch his pension across rent and food. The old man's greatest struggle, however, is holding on to his dignity as he sinks to his lowest point.
With his little moustache, hat and suit, there's something almost Chaplin-esque about Umberto. In another time, one could almost see the same story being told about the Tramp, but while that would have been a sweetly optimistic film, Umberto D. has no intention of displaying theatrical sentimentality. Indeed, this is Chaplin by way of Italian neorealism, a story of a man and his dog and the unforgiving world they face as they try to keep their heads above water.
De Sica and screenwriter Cesare Zavattini give each of their characters a subtle complexity that gives the viewer more to unpick as they watch. We first meet Umberto at a rally for higher pensions, and as he converses with the other protestors, he tells them he could pay off his debts in a year if his pension was raised. The others admit that they have no debts, and from there the crowd begins to shift away from Umberto. Quite what these debts are we never fully know – he owes his landlady at least 15,000 lire, but a greater amount is alluded to. He is a likeable man, as we see him chat and make quick friends with various people around town, but each conversation is capped with a pitch, be it selling a watch or just asking old friends for cash outright. More than the lack of money, it is the indignity of poverty that is truly killing Umberto. A scene in which he finally resorts to begging on the street stings the heart on multiple occasions. At first, he pushes his palm out to passers-by as though it is physically agonising to do so, but when a man eventually stops to give him some money, he flips his hand as though testing for rain. Unable to allow himself to sink so low, Umberto places his hat in Flike's mouth and has his dog beg on the pavement for him while he hides in the background. The arrival of an old acquaintance quickly puts this to an end as Umberto runs back to his dog, pretending that the mutt was only playing. There is no comedy here, only one crushing defeat after another.
Like Umberto, the film's other characters try to find the dignity in despair, and we understand them even at their harshest moments. Antonia the landlady may appear heartless and cruel as she repeatedly threatens to throw Umberto into the street, but we are also repeatedly reminded that he owes her a substantial amount of back-rent. The apartment area he is renting is far from luxurious, of course. Ants are constantly showing up in the kitchen and in Umberto's bed, and his room is being surreptitiously rented out to fornicating couples who intend to keep their flings secret. The announcement of Antonia's impending marriage to a wealthy man finally shoves Umberto out of his room as it is destroyed and renovated. De Sica doesn't lean on the point too much, but we are left wondering how much the landlady's marriage is for love or for survival in a hard time.
The one true source of happiness in Umberto D. comes from the relationship between Umberto and Flike. Walking from place to place around Rome, Flike and his leash aren't so much an accessory to Umberto as an extended part of him. The two are rarely separated on camera, and when they are it is to devastating effect. In one instance, Umberto returns from a hospital visit to find his beloved dog has escaped the apartment- we can presume he has gone looking for his master. After a scrambling search at the local dog pound, Umberto and Flike are brought together again in an embrace that is reminiscent of Chaplin and his adopted son's reunition. Italian neorealism may produce scenes of honest hardship for its characters, but in this film, De Sica also finds moments of genuine heart. For that, Umberto D. may be the best of them all.
Umberto D. arrives once again on Blu-ray, this time courtesy of the Criterion Collection. While slightly more reduced than their usual supplemental packages, the disc contains some strong material by way of a 55-minute-long documentary about De Sica's life, an archival interview with actress Maria Pia Casilio, and the film's original theatrical trailer, as well as the customary Criterion booklet of writing on the film.
- New high-definition digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray edition
- That's Life: Vittorio De Sica, a fifty-five-minute documentary about the director's career, made for Italian television in 2001
- Writings on Umberto D. by Umberto Eco, Luisa Alessandri, and Carlo Battisti (DVD only)
- Interview with actress Maria Pia Casilio from 2003
- Trailer
- New English subtitle translation
- PLUS: A new essay by critic Stuart Klawans and a reprinted recollection by De Sica (DVD and Blu-ray); a reprinted recollection by actor Carlo Battisti (DVD only)
Umberto D is released on Special Edition Blu-ray from Criterion today.