Umberto D.Is the bond between a man and his dog strong enough to carry him through the crushing despair of poverty? Umberto D. is the story of the eponymous Umberto Domenico Ferrari (Carlo Battisti), a pensioner formerly employed by the government in Italy, who cannot afford to keep the apartment at the boarding house he's been renting. As a matter of fact, he's months behind in the rent, and his landlady (Lina Gennari) intends to evict him to expand her living room. The only sympathy Umberto receives comes from his dog, Flike, and the boarding house's maid (Maria-Pia Casilio).
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Made in 1952, Umberto D. is set in the economic wake of World War II, when Italy was supposedly experiencing an economic boom. However, if this film is any indication, any prosperity must come at a cost, and that cost appears to be borne on the backs of the elderly--retired men like Umberto--who struggle to get by and are forced to selling their possessions and begging in the streets. The Italy of Umberto D. is a cynical one, where the thought of money is ubiquitous--there is nary a scene in the film where money is not discussed or some exchange is proposed, save for the scenes involving the maid. In fact, the maid is an angelic kind of figure, presented as innocent and sweet, unlike the landlady. Umberto clearly looks upon her as a daughter or granddaughter, with kindness and understanding, even if he finds it shocking when she reveals to him that she's three months pregnant and isn't entirely sure who the father is. She is the oasis in this brave new world which Umberto struggles to thrive within, unprepared for the oversaturation of capitalism and money as the driving force behind all actions. But is the message of Umberto D. one of class or generational disconnect, or is it more akin to the fable of "The Ant and the Grasshopper"? Although Umberto claims he has no debts at one point, it contradicts his earlier assertion that he was marching for increased pension to help pay his debts. In fact, Umberto may be pitiable as an old man who is turned out of his home for years with only a pittance of money, but there are countless scenes throughout where he tries to tread water by bilking the system, overplaying his tonsillitis to stay at a hospital free of charge for a week, or turning in a plate that doesn't belong to him at a restaurant so he can also feed Flike. Even when Umberto attempts to hock his watch to a man he meets at the protest, he does so with a kind of greasy charm that suggests he's done this before. Is Umberto a crook, looking to exploit any loophole to get by? If so, he's far from alone, as this mindset has permeated the Italy of the film, making social interactions only a step away from cutthroat commerce.
For all of Umberto's shortcomings, the film still asks us for sympathy for the kind--but not always honest--old man. The perspective of this sympathy is colored by the time and place in which Umberto D. was made, one where the dueling ideologies of capitalism and communism were raging, and for those left behind in the wake of the capitalist surge following World War II, it must have appeared as quite a paradigm shift, one which had no room for charity. To view Umberto D. from a contemporary American standpoint, Umberto appears justified in his protestations against the meager pay he receives for his loyal service for years, and doesn't deserve the humiliating dispersing of their mob by sneering police, driving him and his comrades out of the city streets like cattle. But there is the unmistakable sense that Umberto has incurred debts that are never discussed in the film, more than just his long overdue rent. Alternately, based on the meager amount he claims to make, even though he is frugal, it is as though there is no way he could ever hope to survive without working. The implication here is that capitalism is determined to work old men like Umberto into their graves, and they are silently judged as lazy or crooks if they try to survive on what the government owes them. All of these economic troubles weigh Umberto down like an albatross around his neck, and lead to his thoughts of suicide which haunt him in the last act of the film. The suggestion in Umberto D. is that the world is a rapidly moving place, and the only rest and escape is death, or at least the thought is laid out like an option rather than something to be avoided. One of the most sorrowful scenes is when Umberto visits the dog pound after Flike has been lost, and he witnesses the room where euthanasia is performed on dogs who are either not claimed or when owners cannot afford to have their dog bailed into their custody. Dogs are wheeled in on a metal cart, which is unceremoniously slid into a large metal box, and they are closed in behind bleak metal doors to meet their fate. The scene has a grim resonance, as it recalls the events of the Holocaust and the same kind of abject lack of sympathy in ending life as efficiently as possible. And when Umberto is finally resigned to his fate, he tries every way he can to ensure Flike has a home to call his own, since he cannot find one for himself, and again comes up empty, largely because--as one woman puts it--there must be something wrong with the dog if Umberto would want to give it away for free. But Flike and Umberto are like twin souls, bound to each other and both sharing the same plight. They are both amiable and well-trained, and have only one another to call their own for companionship. They are essentially both "strays", outsiders in this brave new world, and their affection is the heart of Umberto D.
Recommended for: Fans of a moving drama about the discarded elderly and the divide in ethos between the older generation and the new, especially with the volatile changes following World War II. It is also a touching story about a man and his love for his dog.
For all of Umberto's shortcomings, the film still asks us for sympathy for the kind--but not always honest--old man. The perspective of this sympathy is colored by the time and place in which Umberto D. was made, one where the dueling ideologies of capitalism and communism were raging, and for those left behind in the wake of the capitalist surge following World War II, it must have appeared as quite a paradigm shift, one which had no room for charity. To view Umberto D. from a contemporary American standpoint, Umberto appears justified in his protestations against the meager pay he receives for his loyal service for years, and doesn't deserve the humiliating dispersing of their mob by sneering police, driving him and his comrades out of the city streets like cattle. But there is the unmistakable sense that Umberto has incurred debts that are never discussed in the film, more than just his long overdue rent. Alternately, based on the meager amount he claims to make, even though he is frugal, it is as though there is no way he could ever hope to survive without working. The implication here is that capitalism is determined to work old men like Umberto into their graves, and they are silently judged as lazy or crooks if they try to survive on what the government owes them. All of these economic troubles weigh Umberto down like an albatross around his neck, and lead to his thoughts of suicide which haunt him in the last act of the film. The suggestion in Umberto D. is that the world is a rapidly moving place, and the only rest and escape is death, or at least the thought is laid out like an option rather than something to be avoided. One of the most sorrowful scenes is when Umberto visits the dog pound after Flike has been lost, and he witnesses the room where euthanasia is performed on dogs who are either not claimed or when owners cannot afford to have their dog bailed into their custody. Dogs are wheeled in on a metal cart, which is unceremoniously slid into a large metal box, and they are closed in behind bleak metal doors to meet their fate. The scene has a grim resonance, as it recalls the events of the Holocaust and the same kind of abject lack of sympathy in ending life as efficiently as possible. And when Umberto is finally resigned to his fate, he tries every way he can to ensure Flike has a home to call his own, since he cannot find one for himself, and again comes up empty, largely because--as one woman puts it--there must be something wrong with the dog if Umberto would want to give it away for free. But Flike and Umberto are like twin souls, bound to each other and both sharing the same plight. They are both amiable and well-trained, and have only one another to call their own for companionship. They are essentially both "strays", outsiders in this brave new world, and their affection is the heart of Umberto D.
Recommended for: Fans of a moving drama about the discarded elderly and the divide in ethos between the older generation and the new, especially with the volatile changes following World War II. It is also a touching story about a man and his love for his dog.