Umberto D.

When I go to the movies, I don't usually go because I want to be shown how I should live my life. I don't go to expose myself to the way that those less fortunate than I am are forced to live their lives. It isn't that I don't care about those things, because I do care a lot. It isn't even that I don't think that movies should do those things, because I think that, ideally, movies should expose us to ways of living that are different from our own, and show us new things about ourselves and the world. Still, when I go to the movies, I want to escape. I want to laugh and have a good time and not worry about the fact that I have to have movie critiques posted on a blog by a certain date. I don't think it would be unrealistic for me to say that most people go to the movies with that expectation. If people went to the movies only because they wanted to better themselves in some way, then I don't think that anyone would have gone to see Twilight, or even Vampires Suck. (Let's face it; I saw both of those movies, and I can't see them having made anyone a better person for having watched them.)
Still, just because people don't go to the movies to make themselves aware of the disparities between social classes doesn't mean that the people who make movies don't want people to do just that. If you've been reading this blog, I'm sure you recognize by this point (unless you started reading at the top and are working your way down, in which case you will recognize this in short order) that Italian Neorealist films were made for just that purpose. Instead of focusing on the rich, they focus on the poor. Instead of focusing on the young, they focus on the old. That is the case with Umberto D, a film directed by Vittorio de Sica later in the movement. The film pits the younger, rich, socialite landlady against Umberto, a poor retired old man. The narrative itself does this, but the film also uses visual tropes and cinematic devices to show us their struggle as well.
The film starts out with a crowd of older men protesting the fact that they don't get enough money from the government for their pensions. Umberto is in the crowd, basically because his rich landlady, Antonia Belloni, is trying to drive him out of her house by making the rent higher and higher, and now he owes her 15,000 lira, more than he can hope to afford. When we get to the boarding house, we are introduced to Antonia for the first time, and she is obviously meant to be a foil. That is, her primary features are the opposite of Umberto's. Umberto is contrasted with his landlady most noticeably at the surface level. She wears fancy clothing, where he dresses conservatively. Her hair is always perfectly styled, whereas Umberto, though clean and well-groomed, is a little haggard-looking. In addition to their surface differences, their values are also deeply different.

Umberto D and his dog, Flike

Umberto seems to be fairly conservative. He has worked hard in his life, and he holds traditional moral values. Not so with Antonia, who has been renting out his room by the hour as a discrete place for married couples to have affairs. Umberto is scandalized by this. He is shocked to find people in his room, and is shocked to discover from the maid, his only human friend, that it is a common occurrence. At the same time, even though Umberto is dismayed to hear that the maid is not only pregnant out of wedlock, but is sexually involved with two men, he is supportive of her. He offers to force the men to do right by her, and offers advice to Maria, the maid. On the other hand, Maria fears that Antonia will fire her if she finds out about the pregnancy, even though Antonia is far from scrupulous in sexual matters. Umberto is moral, even though he is one of the lesser members of society, but he also cares about people who do not abide by his morality. Antonia is neither moral nor caring.
Umberto's friendships, the few that he has, are also more meaningful than Antonia's. At one point, Maria confides in Umberto that Antonia is only interested in her fiance because he owns a movie theater and would be able to get her tickets for free. Umberto’s two best friends are the maid, who is barely able to provide for herself, and his dog, Flike, neither of whom are able to help him materially in any way, not does he expect them to do anything other than provide him with company.

The socialite landlady.

The shots are set up to pit Umberto and Antonia against each other, as well. In one scene in particular, Umberto has a conversation with Antonia, and she is shown from a low angle to be standing at the top of the staircase. The shot of Umberto is at eye level, but he is lower in the screen, and also lower down the staircase than Antonia. She holds the power in the relationship, but it is Umberto with whom we empathize. Our empathy is heightened by the ratio of close ups between the two. Umberto, and even Maria, are often shown at close range, often considering a painful choice they are considering. Antonia is never shown at close range, and is also never shown with any truly human emotions. During this time, it was more common for members of the wealthy class to be portrayed positively, and the poor were shown negatively. This is exactly the opposite of what happens in Umberto D.
I think the film accomplished what it sets out to do. It's a very sad movie, and I certainly wouldn't go see it to escape from my problems, but it isn't overly preachy, either. Umberto, although a good person, is thoroughly human and not infallible. He's kind of a grumpy old man. He is not angelic. He calls Antonia "a bitch," which is definitely not the traditionally moral thing for him to do. But Umberto D helped me to empathize with a character who was much older than I am, and in a much different circumstance, which few films do well. In fact, the only movie I've seen recently in which I identified with an older male character was Up! If nothing else, this film is worth watching because it does offer such a different view, and broadened my ability to empathize with others.