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I kind of agree. More so than a spiritual I see this as a therapeutic film. It's no secret that Rossellini went through his own experience with the death of a child. Obviously he didn't become a saint as a result, but from misery he did change his films to be more poetic and less just a popular showing of the political moment. Like everything this goes back to Year Zero which saw him move from a political to a spiritual commentator. In that sense the film is optimistic about who Rossellini has become.

I agree as far as Rossellini's own reflective participation in the work, but I feel that the audience's engagement may reach the same result of spiritual shift through different avenues. While Rossellini's reflection of self is present in a lot of his early 50s films he is more interested in exploring the most extreme fantasies or metaphors to reach that therapeutic value. For example, both Stromboli and this film are nightmares-become-fantasies in the swaying of intense emotions and physical demonstrations of action. Rossellini uses these stories to therapeutically evaluate his own stance by going to such extremes in them that are so fantastical they defy his reality. Setting this as an unreachable goal or expression of the ultimate spiritual awakening (Stromboli) for himself certainly allows for him to achieve optimism, motivation, and strengthening his own spiritual drives through melodramatic conventions, but I think that he is just as keen on doing this for the audience, which is where I suppose my interests lie. Thus what is therapeutic for him becomes more philosophical for us, as we are not making the film and infusing our own history into it as it molds into its construction, nor are we playing with conventions to mimic our fears, wants, hopes, dreams. We are observers who are taking in these ideas filtered through these conventions, and have our own spiritual awakening as a result of a process of relating to Rossellini's therapy, feeling and shifting perspectives rather than working through any of our own baggage that planted the artistic seed as Rossellini did. We then project all of these fears, wants, hopes, dreams, various ideas and baggages, onto the material to mold it to us after it's already been created by the artist. We may have a resulting therapeutic experience, or purely a spiritual one (though I'd argue they can be one in the same), or just an emotional response without any more information to yield change, which is perfectly fine on its own. My point is that the film may be very intentionally therapeutic for Rossellini as the artist in his own process of building it, but like a lot of his early 50s work best exemplified by Flowers of St. Francis, he gives us a canvas with which we can access more easily without as much concrete parameters in how or why we will access it. We are offered an opportunity to join him on his (more defined and personally therapeutic) spiritual journey, though he is humble enough to allow us to form that journey ourselves along any kind of process (therapeutic-psychological, therapeutic-spiritual, therapeutic-emotional, as a distanced melodrama, as any of those signifiers sans "therapeutic," etc.) that will give us the degree of optimism and spiritual experience that he has given himself, whilst knowing that it will be and must be individualized - hence the ambiguity of his work.

therewillbeblus wrote: Mon Dec 09, 2019 5:01 pmI'm curious if anyone else read the film this way, or at least ambiguously as a film with both a sad and happy ending?

Thanks for having set up a good question that gives me an idea around which to organize thoughts!

Just rewatching this, I don’t see how this film can be described as pessimistic, unless one thinks that representations of the life of Jesus - or any other spiritual rebel transformed as martyr because of society - are pessimistic. One reading would indeed see this, yes, given Flowers as a recent film of Rossellini’s, as how "Francis wouldn't 'work' today", to use your words, but I think such a reading would ignore that Irene’s story here, the radical mystic-in-action (à la Simone Weil to use a fairy contemporary figure) confronting a limited world, is the archetypal story of the rebel saint, starting with Jesus himself. I’d argue the discussion among the authorities near the end, which centers on the recognition of Irene’s impossibly radical Christian spirit, shows the film has this understanding. The outward “failure” is a sign itself of the spiritual success. (As, yes, expressed also in that last look of Irene’s seeing the love-in-action of her “disciples”.) In that way the film very much feels at one with the Christian philosophy and therefore quite traditional even in the very "radicalness" of its message.

Whether the film works on the viewer therapeutically, in terms of fostering hope, I have a hard time giving a general answer to. The film seems to exist in part to show up the shallowness of the bourgeois world, first, and second to argue that the socialist paradise dream (represented by Andrea’s views) is another false, i.e. spiritually insufficient, option. At the very least engages the viewer to think about modern social life and those perspectives.

therewillbeblus wrote: Wed Dec 04, 2019 5:04 pmEurope ‘51 is a wonderful picture of the transformation of a person from polar opposite sides across the spectrum of humanism. If Stromboli was a portrait of the painful road to achieve the willingness to change one's spiritual position, this takes that idea (the most difficult part of the process, and why it took a whole film to detail) and runs with it by widening the scope of focus to the path of transforming selfishness turned to selflessness.

The comparison with Stromboli is a good one. What I would nuance in the parallel, and why Stromboli works strongly for me whereas this doesn’t nearly as much, is that the former film is precisely about that inner journey, for the whole length of it, like you've said, and it keeps the viewer in its grip for the duration. Here, by contrast, Irene’s transformation occurs relatively early in the film, and even though she still suffers and emotes afterwards, the rest of the film is more about how showing how the world reacts to such a figure. Personally, relative to Karin in the earlier film, I start losing a fair amount of interest in Irene as a character as soon as she achieves this transformation.

Great thoughts, RV! I really like your comparisons to Jesus in the goals in the embodiment of a Saint-like figure, specifically that they are centered on society as an area to mold with positive action coming from within, and yet divorced from society’s impact on their actions. It’s a one way street of emitting positive utilitarian principles into demonstration without a possibility of being persuaded to question such actions because one’s beliefs and identity are so fixed in confidence.

I prefer Stromboli as well, but I think that’s because I love that Rossellini takes a film so show that path to willingness, to the breaking down of the complex ego towards surrender which begets that change within and prompts spiritual growth and acceptance. It’s so relatable, the process of giving up control, universal even (literally everyone encounters and to some degree reaches this developmental milestone just by growing up), but it doesn’t stop- it’s a consistent process that must be continuously applied to various areas of life in both general and specific circumstances. In the most extreme cases, it often takes being completely trapped to require such an intense drainage of the psyche towards spirituality, and Rossellini somehow captured this with a camera.

However, I do love Europe ‘51 because it’s a more hopeful film, and I actually find the second half with Irene becoming Franciscan the best parts by far. Watching her show unconditional devotion and an untainted honesty and commitment in her actions is so powerful in the wake of her tragedy, that it makes me believe that spiritual (not necessarily religious, or actually at all) growth can be found and maintained for anyone. It makes me want to go out and do more, and makes me think, even know, that I can; and that if I do I will be rewarded for it not by society but by that spiritual sensation from within, and Rossellini makes a good argument that this is all that really matters.

Perfect encapsulation of Stromboli's meaning re: surrender/acceptance (or "let go and let God"), tw. I agree it's a universal principle of life, in addition to being a truth at the center of every spiritual tradition, whether you're religious or not. Though some of us having to keep learning it over and over.

Some other random thoughts. I don't think Irene ever truly becomes a saint here, i.e. completely divested of ego. Near the end she's asked about what guides her, and she says it's hate for herself that propels her towards love for others. So not quite the achievement of ego death, but maybe that makes her still more relatable as a person. Perhaps, though, that non-verbal reaction of hers at film's end signals a further transformation towards complete "sainthood".

The director's "spiritual" films of the early-to-mid 50s were criticized for having left behind social commentary and neo-realism. This really isn't the case here. The film starts with a remark (can't remember exactly) by two people less well off in the city as the camera then shows Irene's expensive car rolling by. Irene's following the path of "love" after her transformation makes her leave her privileged world for living among the poor and oppressed (again, Jesus). We also glimpse the reality of factory life. Meanwhile the film constantly foregrounds the general historical reality, world political events currently occurring, the perceived threat of war again, and constant recognition of the previous war's effects. One way this happens are the suggestions of the child's death as a result of war, i.e. Andrea's comments of the "how can a child not be affected by witnessing war?" kind, and the notion that the child's feeling abandoned by her mother was caused by the shift in the attention she gave to her husband after he returned from the war.

One thing occurring in the drama surrounding the child that I don't think the film really resolves or addresses is the strong Oedipal theme at the beginning. The boy wants her mother's attention exclusively, his father is obviously a competitor, and there's a sexual component when the boy (in the Italian version I was watching at least) chastises her for being "naked" when she comes to tell him to stop acting up during the middle of the party in her revealing dress. The father also "seals" the boy's demise by being so insensitive to his distress during that same party. The theme is brought up but is just left hanging when the tragic events unfold.

Rayon Vert wrote: Sat Dec 14, 2019 5:28 pm Some other random thoughts. I don't think Irene ever truly becomes a saint here, i.e. completely divested of ego. Near the end she's asked about what guides her, and she says it's hate for herself that propels her towards love for others. So not quite the achievement of ego death, but maybe that makes her still more relatable as a person. Perhaps, though, that non-verbal reaction of hers at film's end signals a further transformation towards complete "sainthood".

Absolutely, though (I know this is a contentious opinion) I don’t think anyone can be divested of ego; and don’t believe in true altruism, as there’s always some subconscious or unconscious ego drive present even in the most “selfless” of actions, tied to some internal principle that feeds one’s conscience and stability of the self. However this is entirely subjective and in other non-western cultures people score higher on the altruism scales because their social contexts can be more collectivistic, so perhaps I should say I don’t think it’s possible for those who grow up in western cultures.

But it doesn’t matter what the unconscious driving force is here, as her reality is that she commits these actions due to strong convictions that refuse to be compromised by her milieu’s social constructions. I agree that her own selfish (in definition of the term, no negative connotation) motivations only fuel this call to action and the fact that her “self” is involved in the energy she brings to the actions only make them more humane and authentic. Here action trumps the specifics of the intent, although those underlying pieces definitely make her more relatably human in her spirituality than if she became an angelic personification of nirvana. Seeing her spiritual awakening override her restraints of humanity (i.e. self-preservation) is as humbling and inspiring as any film in memory.

Rayon Vert wrote: Sat Dec 14, 2019 5:28 pm One thing occurring in the drama surrounding the child that I don't think the film really resolves or addresses is the strong Oedipal theme at the beginning. The boy wants her mother's attention exclusively, his father is obviously a competitor, and there's a sexual component when the boy (in the Italian version I was watching at least) chastises her for being "naked" when she comes to tell him to stop acting up during the middle of the party in her revealing dress. The father also "seals" the boy's demise by being so insensitive to his distress during that same party. The theme is brought up but is just left hanging when the tragic events unfold.

Also worth noting the father's later confession of his jealousy over Andrea, and his suspicion that Michel wasn't really his son - Irene's moral crusade becomes sexually threatening to him. There are a lot of interlinked jealousies and resentments here. Irene and Michel formed an intense, intimate bond during the bombing raids, and Michel misses that state of mortal danger and the maternal love that came with it (and the absence of his father) so much so that he's willing to injure himself to get it all back. Irene's decadent bourgeois lifestyle is also a 'competitor', drawing her away from him. So when she abandons that lifestyle to help people who are still living in a state of crisis even though the war is over, this is her way of posthumously fulfilling Michel's wishes, and of course her husband (who is so invested in that bourgeois lifestyle) reads Irene's behaviour as marital infidelity, filial impiety (towards her mother), and as rendering their dead son illegitimate; she’s undermining all the pillars of bourgeois respectability. I’m not sure what to make of all the complex Oedipal stuff going on here, beyond saying that: a) I love how Michel’s jealousy at the start is mirrored (and sort of retroactively vindicated) by his father’s jealousy towards the end, and b) more generally, it’s astonishing how many profound and surprising things Rossellini had to say about the aftermath of the war. Kind of an obvious statement, but I thought I should say it before moving on to the next bit...

therewillbeblus wrote: Sat Dec 14, 2019 6:38 amHowever, I do love Europe ‘51 because it’s a more hopeful film, and I actually find the second half with Irene becoming Franciscan the best parts by far. Watching her show unconditional devotion and an untainted honesty and commitment in her actions is so powerful in the wake of her tragedy, that it makes me believe that spiritual (not necessarily religious, or actually at all) growth can be found and maintained for anyone. It makes me want to go out and do more, and makes me think, even know, that I can; and that if I do I will be rewarded for it not by society but by that spiritual sensation from within, and Rossellini makes a good argument that this is all that really matters.

It seems to me that she isn’t only rewarded with a spiritual sensation from within, but by the emotional reciprocation of her feelings from the people she helps. What you said in your earlier post about audiences having the space to react to the film in their own way (whatever personal and therapeutic meaning it might have had for Rossellini) resonates very strongly with me, because I don’t have an ounce of spirituality in me and I don’t primarily see the film in terms of ‘spiritual awakening’. To me it feels very grounded in emotions and relationships. Irene seeks out reiterations of the emotional bond Michel wanted to cling to: she wants to be with people in moments of crisis, stress, death (or near-death, or near-suicide) and just be there for them, telling them that they’re not alone, making them feel loved and cared for.

My problem with the film has to do with the black-and-white contrast between the ways in which people respond to Irene. The poor people she helps are grateful and treat her as a saint; the bourgeois types all think she’s crazy. I guess this serves the radical, confrontational point that Rossellini is making, but I can’t help finding the ending a little bit trite. Flowers of St. Francis felt like a more authentic portrayal of how messy and awkward and comical the process of loving your neighbour is, in practice. The prostitute is belligerent at first, but quickly succumbs to Irene’s kindness; for a minute there it seemed like Masina’s character might be taking advantage of Irene, but no she turns up at the end weeping sincerely over her benefactor’s incarceration… I don’t know, something about it doesn’t ring true for me, but I’m perhaps being overly cynical. Tag Gallagher would certainly think so, judging by his reaction to my (and others’) scepticism over the ending of Journey to Italy a few years go. But I’m not saying that I want the film to show Irene failing miserably in her attempts to do good – just that a little more nuance in the way others react to her would help me to open my heart to this story.

I see this film as occupying a place somewhere in between The Passion of Joan of Arc and Red Desert, and the comparison might help to explain what I’ve just been saying.

In Dreyer’s film, there’s a wonderful moment towards the end where even the most brutal, unsympathetic of the judges burst into tears at the prospect of Joan’s devotion and integrity. It’s not that they suddenly believe – as others do – that Joan really is a saint. Their reaction creates a space in which the audience can feel the tragic force of what’s happening, even if they don’t buy into Joan’s religious experience. I don’t believe in God or angels or miracles, but I also don’t think Joan is mentally ill. I think she’s wrong (factually, not morally) but it’s a measure of the film’s power that I felt like a patronising dick head even as I wrote that. I’m genuinely, deeply moved and humbled by the idea that a person can be as human and fallible and scared of being burnt alive as she is, and yet also be so dedicated to doing ‘the right thing’ that they will willingly go to the pyre in order to do so. It’s an amazing story, and the film sells it by doing justice to the full spectrum of Joan’s emotions and the emotions of those around her. She tries so hard to get through to people, and when she does get through to them it feels hard-won, and earned. There’s a lot of emotional complexity in Europa ‘51 as well, but as with Journey to Italy, I feel like there are also moments of over-simplification that dull the story’s impact, especially at the end.

In Red Desert, there’s a tension between different perspectives on the protagonist’s behaviour: is she mentally ill, or is she the only sane person in Ravenna? What makes Antonioni’s film so clever is that it forces you to see Giuliana from the ‘robot’ perspective a lot of the time, and even to share the frustrations of her prick of a husband. Her predicament is moving and horrifying because you can feel the strength of that community/environment that says ‘stop making a fuss and just conform’. Unlike Irene, poor Giuliana

Spoiler

fails every step of the way, never quite managing to form an emotional connection with anyone – not by being kind to strangers, not even by caring for her seemingly afflicted son who, in a lovely inversion of the Rossellini film, turns out not to need his (suicidal) mother at all.

In Europa ‘51, Irene just seems to have too much incentive to carry on with her new way of life, and no real incentive to return to her old one. I think that lack of tension is problematic. But maybe I’m missing and/or mis-interpreting something?

Sloper wrote: Sat Dec 14, 2019 9:41 pm Flowers of St. Francis felt like a more authentic portrayal of how messy and awkward and comical the process of loving your neighbour is, in practice. The prostitute is belligerent at first, but quickly succumbs to Irene’s kindness; for a minute there it seemed like Masina’s character might be taking advantage of Irene, but no she turns up at the end weeping sincerely over her benefactor’s incarceration… I don’t know, something about it doesn’t ring true for me, but I’m perhaps being overly cynical. (...)

In Europa ‘51, Irene just seems to have too much incentive to carry on with her new way of life, and no real incentive to return to her old one. I think that lack of tension is problematic.

Just to say I feel those things too, and they may be contributing factors to my feeling a little lukewarm about the film.

Sloper wrote: Sat Dec 14, 2019 9:41 pmWhat you said in your earlier post about audiences having the space to react to the film in their own way (whatever personal and therapeutic meaning it might have had for Rossellini) resonates very strongly with me, because I don’t have an ounce of spirituality in me and I don’t primarily see the film in terms of ‘spiritual awakening’. To me it feels very grounded in emotions and relationships. Irene seeks out reiterations of the emotional bond Michel wanted to cling to: she wants to be with people in moments of crisis, stress, death (or near-death, or near-suicide) and just be there for them, telling them that they’re not alone, making them feel loved and cared for.

See I have a very loose definition of spirituality, as do many people I’ve come across, and would define it as any experience that removes one from the neuroses of the self towards a more peripheral perspective of life (not a connection to god but to the world, nature, or other people). You may not think you have an ounce of spirituality in you but I think what you’re describing as your positive experience with the movie is similar to mine, I guess we just categorize it differently. I think Irene’s ability to emerge from the self-pity of her tragedy to extend herself emotionally to others is about as “spiritual” as it gets.

I think people experience the movie as the happy ending it is, when they relate more intimately to the characters from the very first scenes.

revisited Stromboli last night as part of a run through Rossellini's greater filmography and was initially beyond annoyed at Criterion's lack of subtitling English dialogue in films that include other languages. but as the movie went on I learned to live with it - while it made Paisà borderline unwatchable for me (thankful for the BFI's edition!), I think it actually helped Stromboli in a weird way. since I last watched the movie I've become familiar with The Naked Island (basically a silent film) and this movie reminded me a lot of that one in how tuned in with its environment on a remote island is. Ingmar Bergman would hit on this a bit in the 60s with his Faro films too, so it's pretty interesting how these directors all had some sort of synergy with the isolationist feeling of these films. in Paisà, the dialogue is so crucial to the film (much to my behest, I'm not a huge fan of it, but I also don't like omnibus films usually) but in Stromboli I was able to put less focus on what Karin would say, adding another dimension to her inability to communicate with the locals of the island. the smoldering burn of the island itself became all the more fascinating, even in the more melodramatic, Gone With the Wind-esque moments that blended Hollywood melodrama with Rossellini's pure poetry. not a perfect film by any means, but an incredibly fascinating one. already still thinking about it this morning.

that said, as if it wasn't overkill enough to have the animal killings in the movie, Criterion including full length clips of both the tuna hunt and the ferret/rabbit scene in Adriano Apra's interview were borderline sadistic. who on earth made that call? I don't advocate films being cut ala the BBFC, but these aren't exactly scenes I wanted to see again! I don't remember ever watching the documentary about Stromboli that appears on the disc, but I'll be doing that in short order.

I'm pretty sure Criterion Paisà has English subtitles and would be surprised if Stromboli doesn't. Yes it'd be nice if they'd include, say, Italian subs when people speak Italian, et al. I subbed a couple dozen Straub movies and usually included subs in the original language as well as English.
If you want Stromboli neighbor movies, try Dieterle's VOLCANO/VULCANO, with Magnani same year as Stromboli, editions in English or subtitled Italian. It's said she'd scream curses across at Rossellini every night.