2012 Movie Challenge #6: The Nights of Cabiria
Some movies have a strange magic to them, I think; they transcend the actors and sets and lights, and what is born from them is a story that seems to exist apart from any time or place, as though it came to us all on its own, like a dream. For me, Federico Fellini's The Nights of Cabiria is one of those movies.
The film takes place in Rome in the 1950s, and the main character of the story is Cabiria, a prostitute. However, let me say quickly that, despite the subject matter, the film is neither puerile nor moralizing. We never see Cabiria about her trade, or at least not beyond her standing by the side of the road and nodding at passersby. Likewise, the film does not feel obligated to teach us the lesson that the life of a prostitute is not all dancing and champagne; it assumes that we have probably guessed that already. Simply put, its purpose is not to shock or titillate us, but only to tell us the story of a fellow human being who is neither good nor bad but some mixture of the two.
We first meet the shrimpy Cabiria upside-down and half-dead, hauled out of the river where her paramour has thrown her after snatching her purse. She bounces back like a cat, however, and her story is full of similar ups and downs, with film stars and magicians and crooks, until a chance encounter seems to offer an opportunity to change her life forever. One might say that for much of the film there is no plot at all; these are Cabiria's days and nights and we simply follow her down and through them. Like most things, however, something deeper lies beneath the surface.
In some ways Nights of Cabiria is the mirror opposite of another movie in the 2012 Film Challenge, namely Black Narcissus; in that earlier film, we see characters who have pledged their devotion to God but who are tormented with thoughts of the secular world; in Cabiria we have a character who would seem to have the basest profession of all but who is haunted by thoughts of the sacred. Though she lives in the moment, Cabiria is reminded of her own bleak future, and she finds herself achingly drawn to those who have devoted themselves to charity, accepted holy orders or renounced worldy things.
The theme of the sacred and the profane echoes throughout the film and on into us, the viewers, no matter what our profession; it makes the us think about what we sell and what we give away for free, what small part of ourselves we lose to make our daily bread, and the prices we put on things that seem as though they should never be measured by the weight of gold.
But, despite that undercurrent of seriousness, Nights of Cabiria is not a grim and doleful movie. Like the rest of us, Cabiria must set aside dark thoughts to make it through her day, and so alongside these bitter truths is a wellspring of joy and humor. Cabiria is a "nut," a free spirit who has both a tough outer shell and a warm, vulnerable heart. The character is played by Giulietta Masina, an actor easily the equal of Chaplin and Keaton in physical comedy, and Cabiria's every gesture and smirk has some little impish sense of fun to it. She is truly one of the most memorable characters in all of cinema.
To me The Nights of Cabiria is a film that will always stand the test of time and be moving and meaningful for as long as people go on watching movies, which I hope is forever.
How did it hold up? Really well. The ending still chokes me up.
Netflixxable? Yes, for disc, no for streaming.
A note about titles: some readers might feel inclined to correct me about the title of the film and remind me that the generally accepted translation leaves off the definite article, despite the fact that it appears in the original title in Italian. Yeah, I know, I did that on purpose. "Nights of Cabiria" always sounded abstract and pretentious to me—as though "cabiria" were some kind of mental or gastronomic funk that a person sometimes has to suffer through after a late dinner. No: Cabiria is a specific person, and these are her specific nights. So there you go.
The film takes place in Rome in the 1950s, and the main character of the story is Cabiria, a prostitute. However, let me say quickly that, despite the subject matter, the film is neither puerile nor moralizing. We never see Cabiria about her trade, or at least not beyond her standing by the side of the road and nodding at passersby. Likewise, the film does not feel obligated to teach us the lesson that the life of a prostitute is not all dancing and champagne; it assumes that we have probably guessed that already. Simply put, its purpose is not to shock or titillate us, but only to tell us the story of a fellow human being who is neither good nor bad but some mixture of the two.
We first meet the shrimpy Cabiria upside-down and half-dead, hauled out of the river where her paramour has thrown her after snatching her purse. She bounces back like a cat, however, and her story is full of similar ups and downs, with film stars and magicians and crooks, until a chance encounter seems to offer an opportunity to change her life forever. One might say that for much of the film there is no plot at all; these are Cabiria's days and nights and we simply follow her down and through them. Like most things, however, something deeper lies beneath the surface.
In some ways Nights of Cabiria is the mirror opposite of another movie in the 2012 Film Challenge, namely Black Narcissus; in that earlier film, we see characters who have pledged their devotion to God but who are tormented with thoughts of the secular world; in Cabiria we have a character who would seem to have the basest profession of all but who is haunted by thoughts of the sacred. Though she lives in the moment, Cabiria is reminded of her own bleak future, and she finds herself achingly drawn to those who have devoted themselves to charity, accepted holy orders or renounced worldy things.
The theme of the sacred and the profane echoes throughout the film and on into us, the viewers, no matter what our profession; it makes the us think about what we sell and what we give away for free, what small part of ourselves we lose to make our daily bread, and the prices we put on things that seem as though they should never be measured by the weight of gold.
But, despite that undercurrent of seriousness, Nights of Cabiria is not a grim and doleful movie. Like the rest of us, Cabiria must set aside dark thoughts to make it through her day, and so alongside these bitter truths is a wellspring of joy and humor. Cabiria is a "nut," a free spirit who has both a tough outer shell and a warm, vulnerable heart. The character is played by Giulietta Masina, an actor easily the equal of Chaplin and Keaton in physical comedy, and Cabiria's every gesture and smirk has some little impish sense of fun to it. She is truly one of the most memorable characters in all of cinema.
To me The Nights of Cabiria is a film that will always stand the test of time and be moving and meaningful for as long as people go on watching movies, which I hope is forever.
How did it hold up? Really well. The ending still chokes me up.
Netflixxable? Yes, for disc, no for streaming.
A note about titles: some readers might feel inclined to correct me about the title of the film and remind me that the generally accepted translation leaves off the definite article, despite the fact that it appears in the original title in Italian. Yeah, I know, I did that on purpose. "Nights of Cabiria" always sounded abstract and pretentious to me—as though "cabiria" were some kind of mental or gastronomic funk that a person sometimes has to suffer through after a late dinner. No: Cabiria is a specific person, and these are her specific nights. So there you go.
Labels: Movies
posted by Joe Gola at 7:40 PM
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