Le notti bianche
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Synopsis
One fateful night on the streets of Livorno, world-weary Mario (Marcello Mastroianni, Allonsanfan) bumps into Natalia (Maria Schell, The Last Bridge), a visibly distressed young woman. As Mario attempts to comfort her, Natalia recounts the story of a lost love (Jean Marais) who she hears is back in town. In a bid to remain close to her, Mario reluctantly agrees to help Maria find him. Adapted from a Fyodor Dostoyevsky short story, director Luchino Visconti (Senso, La terra trema) captures the agony and ecstasy of infatuation in this exquisite melodrama. Headlined by two stellar performances from Marcello Mastroianni and Maria Schell, Le notti bianche won the Silver Lion at the 1957 Venice Film Festival.
Picture 9/10
Luchino Visconti’s Le notti bianche receives a new Blu-ray edition from Radiance Films, who present the film in its original aspect ratio of 1.66:1 on a dual-layer disc. The 1080p/24hz high-definition presentation is sourced from a new 4K restoration, taken from a scan of the 35mm original camera negative. As a UK release, the disc is locked to region B.
The new restoration (and Radiance’s presentation of it) really is a marvel, delivering a near-impeccable, film-like image. I won’t knock Criterion’s old 2005 DVD too harshly, as it was also sourced from a scan of the negative and actually holds up reasonably well, remaining impressive for its time. That said, the improvements here are vast. And they go well beyond simple clean-up and removing print damage—nearly all of which has been addressed from what the DVD delivered, aside from some minor pulsing—with the more significant improvements coming down to contrast and grayscale reproduction, which are far more expansive. Gradations are cleaner and better refined, with shadow detail noticeably improved upon, and the film’s snowy climax no longer appearing as blown out. The range present in the dimly lit interiors is also stunning, especially with the light breaking through the smoke in one sequence.
There’s also a noticeably more natural, less digital appearance overall. Grain is better resolved and more consistent, while fine detail looks sharper and cleaner. The fog that drifts through several sequences is rendered beautifully, appearing wholly natural and free of artifacts. It really is a gorgeous image, and while it’s almost a shame Radiance didn’t take the final step to a full 4K UHD release, their typically excellent encode still makes this Blu-ray deeply impressive.
Le notti bianche - Screen Captures
Audio 6/10
Radiance includes a lossless single-channel PCM soundtrack. It too sees a welcome upgrade, with slightly wider range and a presentation that comes across a bit sharper overall, despite the obvious dubbing inherent to the production. The track is also clean, with no prominent damage or distracting issues. Quite nice on the whole.
Extras 8/10
Radiance throws in a strong slate of supplemental material for their edition, even mirroring some of what Criterion included on their DVD. Chief among these is Le notti bianche: An Appreciation, a 17-minute featurette from 2003 featuring interviews with screenwriter Suso Cecchi D’Amico, cinematographer Giuseppe Rotunno, costume designer Piero Tosi, and critics Laura Delli Colli and Lino Miccichè. The critics share their thoughts and analysis, while the three crew members recall their contributions and working with Visconti, much of it boiling down to interpreting exactly what he wanted. There’s also some emphasis on the film’s relatively modest budget, made even trickier by casting bigger stars like Maria Schell and, eventually, Jean Marais (who literally just walked in, first asking about playing the lead). The discussion around the sets and costumes is particularly interesting, with Tosi noting that the wardrobe was designed specifically to suit the desired grayscale of the photography.
Alongside the 5-minute trailer, Radiance also replicates Criterion’s DVD by including an audiobook version of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s White Nights. Here they opt for a newer public-domain recording featuring multiple speakers, whereas Criterion’s version—also offered as a downloadable MP3—appeared to have been produced specifically for that release. Radiance’s implementation is the stronger of the two, however, presenting the audiobook as a track that plays over the film itself, with chapters neatly broken up to correspond with sections of the story rather than being relegated to an audio-only menu as Criterion's presentation does.
Missing from this edition are the screen tests found on Criterion’s DVD, though, while charming in their own way, they’re hardly a major loss. In their place, Radiance includes a three-and-a-half-minute archival interview with Marcello Mastroianni, filmed for a documentary on Visconti, in which the actor recalls first meeting, and then working with, the director. There’s also a 1963 French television program, Letters from Rome: Luchino Visconti, hosted by André S. Labarthe. Labarthe visits Visconti at his home to discuss his career up to that point, touching on La terra trema, Senso, Le notti bianche, and The Leopard, which was still in development. The conversation later moves outdoors on the outskirts of Rome, where the two delve further into Italian neorealism (Visconti remarking that the “neo” should have been dropped), his interest in theatre and how it possibly informed the more experimental Le notti bianche, as well as his use of color, the importance of depth of field, and his approach to working with actors, whom he memorably compares to purebred horses that must be treated in a particular way. It’s a rich and engaging discussion, packing a great deal into its 33-minute runtime.
Rounding things out is a newly recorded 23-minute interview with Adrian Wootton, who places the film in its historical context, discusses its visual design, and explores some of the films visuals and (I guess) metaphors, such as the bridge repeatedly crossed by the two main characters. He also addresses Visconti’s reasons for making a smaller, more stage-bound film than many of his other works. This segues nicely with the booklet’s first essay, written by Pasquale Iannone, which expands on these ideas before digging into the film’s development, including a sample from the opening of the screenplay, and the film itself. The booklet closes with an extract from Geoffrey Nowell’s book Luchino Visconti (third edition), an author also represented on Criterion’s DVD edition via a separate essay.
All told, it’s a solid and thoughtful set of supplements that explores both the film and its literary source in meaningful ways, ultimately bettering Criterion’s comparatively slim collection.
Closing
A wonderful new edition, featuring a gorgeous presentation and an excellent set of supplements.
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