2017 Blind Spot Series: Cinema Paradiso

Okay, my Blind Spot record for 2017 is spotty, but the year isn't over. So let's get back into it here with viewing of...

Why did I pick it? Most of my Blind Spot picks hold some personal intrigue for me. This one does not. Watching Cinema Paradiso is purely a box-checking exercise. Let me explain. I'm a list-lover. One of the things list-lovers do is check out lists. Since I'm also a movie buff, I often find myself perusing "greatest movie" lists and counting how many I've seen, whether the source is reputable or not. Of the ones I hadn't seen, a few titles showed up repeatedly. This was one of them. Finally tired of letting this movie beat me, I decided I was going to watch it this year, regardless of whatever was going on in my life. And it mattered not that I had no idea what it was about. The only thing that gave me pause was the runtime. Before writing this review, I was unaware that there are three versions of this film at wildly different lengths floating around. The one I got my hands on is the director's cut, running 173 minutes. I feel that's an important distinction to make as the other two versions, which I've still never seen, must vary greatly from this one. The international cut, which I take to mean as shredded for us ADHD-suffering Americans, is 123 minutes long. There is also a 155 minute version serving as what I suppose is the theatrical cut.

The movie begins with Salvatore (Jacques Perrin) receiving a phone call in the middle of the night informing him that Alfredo (Philippe Noiret) has died. The film then flashes back to Salvatore's childhood in a small town in Rome. At only six years old, Salvatore (then played by Salvatore Cascio, later played by Marco Leonardi as a teen) is already a budding film buff who spends as much time as possible at the Cinema Paradiso, the town's one and only movie house. He's there so much, the theater's owner, none other than Alfredo, has taken a shine to him and often lets him hang out in the projection booth. From there, we chronicle Salvatore's growing up in this tiny place, his relationships with Alfredo, his mother Maria (Antonella Attili in flashbacks; Pupella Maggio in the present), his first love Elena (Agnese Nano as a teen; Brigitte Fossey as an adult), and above all, with the theater itself.

Indeed, the Paradiso is a character in the movie. She undergoes a fully three dimensional arc and her condition at any given moment informs the decisions made by Salvatore every step of the way. At first glance, it appears that his relationship with the theater is merely an extension of his relationship with Alfredo. It is that, but so much more. It's an entity on its own. There is still plenty of symbolism to be drawn from it, however. It represents Salvatore's relationship with movies themselves. It never hides this as we're shown more clips from more film's than we dare count, at least on our first watch. Through all of them, we sense the love emanating from our hero. Beyond that, the film is also a chronicle of the history of cinematic censorship. It's puritanical roots are personified by Father Aldelfio (Leopoldo Trieste). The clergyman insists that Alfredo let him screen each movie before its made available for public consumption and decide what parts should be cut. Invariably, this involves anything even remotely sexual. It becomes apparent that no one in town has ever seen as much as an on-screen kiss. Despite his objections, Alfredo dutifully obliges. This becomes a subplot that would pay off in a major way several times. One of these is one of the most beautiful montages ever committed to film.

Though a bond that exists on its own plane and given its own space, the course of Salvatore's relationship with the Paradiso influenced by the more human aspects of his life. It's most closely tied to Alfredo, there's no doubting that. He is its proprietor and a father figure to Salvatore. The role is wonderfully inhabited by Philippe Noiret. True, the film is all about the ups and downs of Salvatore's life, but Noiret's Alfredo gives it soul. In many ways, he exemplifies our own feelings towards Salvatore. Like Alfredo, the boy doesn't belong to us, but we want to nurture him, give him advice, and perhaps above all, feed his appetite for movies. Alfredo does all of those things so we come to love him as much as Salvatore does. This leads to a number of emotional moments throughout our time with Salvatore.

Our hero's love for Elena and for his mother are the film's other major relationships. Through this prism, we most clearly see Salvatore's maturation. Like many of our firsts, his infatuation with Elena begins during his high school years. As teenage boys are wont to do, he falls head over heels for her rather quickly proclaiming her the most beautiful creature he's ever laid eyes on, not on the screen at the Paradiso, that is. She helps him transition from youth to adulthood. She comes with the prerequisite disapproving family and all the growing pains typically ascribed to teen romance. This culminates in some fascinating interactions between the two as adults. Through it all, his mom is there. She doesn't always understand him, but she always does what she thinks is best for him. This is true of him as a child, and after he's become the man we met at the very beginning of the film. In all, there are four ladies involved in playing these two roles, and they are all outstanding. They shape him from opposite ends with Alfredo and the Paradiso manning his center. It's adds up to an interesting look at how this particular man was made.

The odd thing about this movie is that none of the three gentlemen who play Salvatore stands out from the rest of the cast, yet they are all good. Each brings a quality lacking in the other two and perfectly appropriate for the age at which they are playing him. We recently saw the same trick pulled off in 2016's Moonlight. It's not quite as gut-wrenching a journey as that because the personal stakes aren't quite as high. Still, we become very invested in Salvatore's fate. It's what anchors us to the film. Cinematographer Blasco Giurato dazzles our eyes with subtly beautiful shots throughout. Finally, director Giuseppe Tornatore must be given immense credit for pulling all of it together. His film would go on to win an Oscar for Best Foreign Feature. To be transparent, I haven't seen any of the other nominees. Since Cinema Paradiso is an unabashed love letter to classic Hollywood, it ticks a major Academy box. See the Best Picture win for 2011's The Artist, or the adoration of and near BP win by 2016's La La Land for further proof. In that regard its win is unsurprising. Nevertheless, this still feels like a worthy honoree because in addition to the stars in its eyes for film history, it's an amazing coming-of-age story for both the boy and the movies.


Of course, this review is part of The Blind Spot Challenge, as laid down by Ryan at The Matinee.

More 2017 Blind Spot Reviews:

THX 1138

The Doors

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

There's Something About Mary

Black Caesar and Hell Up in Harlem

Rope

From Hell