A filmmaker recalls his childhood, when he fell in love with the movies at his village's theater and formed a deep friendship with the theater's projectionist.
Cinema Paradiso sincerely captures the paradisiacal pleasure of film. Bellissimo! One of life's greatest delectations is the medium of film, more specifically the cinema establishments. A cinema was, well still is, able to bring together a community of movie enthusiasts and enable the minds in the room to escape the boundaries of reality. Films can influence. Films can inspire. Yet most profoundly, films can entertain. Tornatore's post-WWII Italian drama is an ode to the boundless possibilities of said medium, and as a reclusive cinephile who yearns to be ascended by these moving pictures, I gobbled this feature up quicker than munching on fresh carbonara. After receiving news of the death of his fatherly figure Alfredo, Salvatore reminisces about his childhood and how he discovered his infatuation with film.
As predicted, considering this title won numerous awards between '89-'91, it's stuffed with tropes and sub-plots found in a variety of genres. Most worked in Tornatore's favour, the remaining few on the other hand proved to be a futile exercise in overloaded storytelling. Immediately what springs to mind, and has yet to abscond the empty void that is my brain, is Morricones' composition. Sensationally authentic, with subtle Italian flavours that truly encapsulated Sicilian aesthetics. The ambience, the atmosphere and the almighty sense of communal drive. It's what makes Cinema Paradiso so incredibly enticing. Fully complementing the heartfelt narrative style that Tornatore had lovingly produced.
The plot is unwrapped through Salvatore's perspective, naturally a consequence of this is that his life story is the prominent development function for all characters. Aside from Alfredo, his war widow mother Maria and his childhood love interest Elena, other characters were mere background villagers that were implemented to enhance the overall lighthearted humour. It was a success. Purely shining the spotlight of Salvatore, and experiencing how films had moulded his life, was effective. The glisten in young Salvatore's eyes reminded me of when I received that very same sparkle. Watching my first film, overwhelmed by inspiration.
Whilst Tornatore's intention was to celebrate this popular art form, the drama surrounding his characters also took precedent. For the most part, both elements were well balanced. The second act however, which I can only assume the theatrical cut was edited with a chainsaw, unfortunately lost momentum. Pivotal scenes felt abruptly removed, particularly the sweeping romanticism between Salvatore and Elena, and severely came across as underdeveloped. The romance, being a manifestation of everything that Salvatore had witnessed being a projectionist and having to splice out kissing scenes (more on that in a moment), had no time to truly simmer. Undercooked spaghetti of love, or something of that cuisine. Then randomly shoving in the compulsory military service montage, and the second act truly proved to be voided of purpose. I can only assume that the director's cut, with an additional fifty minutes of footage, resolves these issues.
Fortunately, the concluding act kicks in and rounds off a sterling performance from Noiret who acts as the father figure for Salvatore. A much required dynamic that allowed some emotional connection between Alfredo and Salvatore. Only to the conclude on a whimsically melancholic note that is sure to make you empathise with Alfredo. Yes, the "kissing scene montage" as it's infamously referred as. Profusely removing comedy and pushing sentimentality forward. It's not particularly subtle, but Tornatore solidifies his sentiments of intertwining pragmatism with nostalgia. Closing this coming-of-age narrative with a celebratory tear.
Cinema Paradiso is a reflection. A reminder if you will. That the age of cinema is far from dilapidated. A celebration of an art form that we, the general public, take for granted. And most importantly, it proves that film can inspire generations, shaping their lives for the better. My criticisms I suspect are mostly regarding the international cut of the film, but still need to be addressed. I'll be sure to give the director's cut a gander in the near future, in the hope that it only betters the story. For now, whilst it isn't the greatest export from Italy, it certainly is deserved of its unanimous praise. Even if the lighthearted nature downplays the dramatic elements.
