Vittorio De Sica’s Rome, a book on urban neorealism

“Rome, which reveals and conceals, which has both the Cupolone and the shacks, swallows up your future and your peace of mind,” says Giovanna Gra, describing for Rai the profound meaning – rather than merely the plot – of Vittorio De Sica’s masterpiece Ladri di biciclette. It would be hard to find a better description not only of the film or the work of the great actor and director, but of his very life and his relationship with Rome. He was born in 1901 in Sora, in the province of Frosinone, and later moved to the capital – this mirage of Augustan ruins, endless sunsets and yet unspeakable poverty – following his family. La Roma di Vittorio De Sica is a fine book by Valeria Arnaldi, published by Olmata. It is a light yet intense journey that retraces the De Sica family’s arrival in Rome and then the places dear to him – those he lived in, those he saw, and those linked to his cinematic poetics – from the grey tones of urban neorealism emerging from the embers of the war to the irreverent irony of Il Conte Max. There is something delightfully synchronic about the fate of this family, who arrived from the Lazio countryside and ended up living in the area adjacent to Termini station, amidst the constant, chaotic, vociferous bustle of a humanity perpetually in transit: the building where they took up residence is the very same one that houses a cinema, the Mefisto. The very young Vittorio thus gains access to discounted tickets and, whenever he can, rushes off to see the latest films. When the family, amidst the maelstrom of endless urban wanderings, moves to Via Principe Amedeo—still not far from Termini—the character of the skyline and the very way in which they view Rome will change. A city of ‘tower blocks that block the horizon and, by blocking out the sun, turn the days grey’. An experience, as Arnaldi points out, which would lead De Sica to focus his attention on that distant and seemingly unreal world that is the suburbs – a world that would be depicted in Ladri di biciclette.

He made his theatre debut after joining Tatiana Pavlova’s company, encouraged by his father, who, having fully understood the importance of art and acting for his son, did not dissuade him. It was now the early 1930s, and the theatre became De Sica’s calling card amongst producers and critics; his life would become intertwined with a curious form of cinematic landscape that was taking shape in the capital. On the Via Appia Ring Road, near Via Latina, the Ceasar Film studios – imposing film studios – were being built. The young actor, who had in fact already made his debut at the age of just sixteen in "Il processo Clémenceau", made these studios his home. He divided his time between them and the nearby Cines studios on Via Veio. From 1933 onwards, De Sica began appearing regularly in numerous films by Mario Camerini, Amleto Palermi and others. These were the years when cinema seemed the most powerful weapon of all; the regime stepped up efforts to expand film sets and studios. The legend of Cinecittà was born: a project undertaken in 1934 and completed in 1937, following the mysterious fire that had ravaged the Cines studios and which had forced production and filming operations to relocate to the new citadel of cinema. Depicting the gloomy Rome of the Nazi occupation, La porta del cielo featured persecuted or endangered people amongst its extras. Filmed on Vatican territory, the film ensured their safety whilst the SS rampaged through the streets of Rome and the war raged. On this episode, the author quotes a beautiful statement by Manuel De Sica who, whilst recalling his father’s generosity, is careful not to succumb to excessive myth-making. With the dramatic chapter of the war closed, came the no less painful period of rebuilding a shattered country. Italy and the Rome of Sciuscià, the first film to win the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film. The Rome that re-emerged, De Sica’s Rome.