I’m not going to add anything to the scholarship on Roberto Rossellini’s War Trilogy, but holy moly are these films breathtaking. I’d seen Rome, Open City previously, but, no, I really hadn’t. A good print, as characterizes the new Criterion transfers, is indescribably immersive. Post-war Europe comes alive. First up is Rome, Open City, shot in Rome (also known as the seat of Benito Mussolini’s fascist regime) in 1945, I repeat, 1945! Apparently Rossellini and Federico Fellini (you may have heard of him) and Sergio Amidei started the script about two months after the allies tore through Italy ousting the Germans from Rome. While the war was still raging throughout most of the continent and beyond. Which events would be depicted in spiritual sequels Paisan and Germany, Year Zero.
I cannot overstate how fascinating I find this. But had this film come out of the late ‘60s or something, it would still be one of the great works on World War II, like Melville’s Army of Shadows, not least as a document of the real city of Rome in 1945. It’s not even two hours long, but it’s divided into two segments that break cleanly along the point of no return, a grisly surprise for this viewer who was too caught up in the resistance to expect the event that closes out Act 1. No wonder the first half keeps returning to that spiral staircase, all skewed in Rossellini’s vision, up or down, either way, we eventually lose our bearings. In a telling visual, a bunch of kids return home after curfew, and as the gaggle make their way inexorably up the spiral, kids peel off at the doorsteps of their worried parents to meet their respective, furious ends.
The story of the resistance naturally lends itself to the film’s web structure, a reflection of the Schroeder Plan that divides the city into sectors, boundaries protruding like spokes from the center. The first twenty minutes are a knotty sprawl, as we sneak from scene to scene meeting about twenty agents of varying significance until finally we get a sense of the ultimate shape. Religious filmmakers can be alienating (see below), but at least in Rome, Open City, our hero is speaking my language: “I am a Catholic priest. I believe that anyone fighting for justice and liberty walks in the ways of the Lord, and the ways of the Lord are infinite.”
The priest sequence in Paisan, on the other hand, nearly takes down the film for me. Okay, not really, but can we just pretend that sequence never happened and move on? At first, it appears Rossellini would validate not only multiculturalism but American multiculturalism. But, no, in the end, our right-thinking priest sees the error of his tolerance for spiritual diversity through the passive aggressions of the Italian monks. Forgive me if I don’t venerate before Rossellini’s persuasive genius.
But it really is easy to forget (and some of that sequence remains insightful) as one of the six episodes of Paisan, a short story cycle/rumination on communication and major influence on Inglourious Basterds/tour through Italy as the allies storm Sicily, liberate Naples and Rome, fight insurgents in Florence, and go behind enemy lines on the Po. And, again, Rossellini must be reading my diary: “You’re all alike. You, the Germans, the Fascists. You people with guns are all the same.” Not that I completely agree, but to the nonviolent, what’s the difference?
Germany, Year Zero supports my theory of (slightly) diminishing returns in the trilogy in direct proportion to blatancy of manipulation (all films manipulate us; subtlety is the sticky factor). Paisan’s smash cut to “Fine” is here replaced by the obvious ploy of making a child the protagonist. I won’t go into the narrative, but boy is this an elegant marriage of intellectual argument and emotional involvement. Similar to the others, it’s a real, ‘live portrait of the streets of my reigning favorite city Berlin in 1948. And where Rome, Open City is defiant and Paisan is ambivalent, Germany, Year Zero is necessarily mournful and rightly set in the Nazi capital. The defining moment of the 20th century was an epic tragedy that we’re still mourning.
Which reminds me of a moment of Rossellini’s generosity, a trait that seems only to grow as his work matures. I can’t remember in which film, but probably in Germany, Year Zero, there’s a scene where two Germans are talking about their life after the war. At the end, one of them laments, “Before the war we were national socialists. Now we’re just Nazis.” Rossellini doesn’t linger or let them off the hook, but he humanizes them in a fleeting moment of connection. Talk about grace.
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Brandon Nowalk writes about film and television for the Maroon Weekly in College Station, TX and at his blog But What She Said. His favorite films beyond the usual suspects include Henry King’s The Gunfighter, Alain Resnais’ Last Year at Marienbad, Orson Welles’ The Trial, Jan Nemec’s Diamonds of the Night, and David Lynch’s Inland Empire.
