We push ourselves so hard.
So that we may see beauty.
For me, it’s this.
Though I can barely hold my eyes open, I see it.
I see what Godard saw when he was just a lad.
A very mature film from Roberto Rossellini.
But by mature, we don’t mean sexual.
Actually, more nuanced than that.
A celebration of woman as human being.
A celebration of Ingrid Bergman as auteur.
Just as much as her husband, the director.
And it’s unlike any other film I’ve ever seen.
she fell in love with his genius.
The war trilogy.
We have talked about the great films.
Just after WWII.
Rome, Open City.
Germany, Year Zero.
[in not quite that order]
These are our English names.
But Journey to Italy is a weird feast of linguistic absurdity.
“…you shameless hussy”.
It’s like this, see…
George Sanders and Ingrid Bergman are British,
but they’re speaking Italian.
This was so the Italians didn’t have to read subtitles.
But then George says to a prosititute,
“I don’t speak Italian” (or something)
in English…WHEN HE’S BEEN SPEAKING ITALIAN FOR THE FIRST HOUR OF THE FILM!
And then there’s the Italian tradition of postproduction.
No live sound.
In this film, no ambient noises.
It’s like George and Ingrid are touring Italy in a fucking Tesla Model S!!
And a bit of dialogue.
And a clip-clop and a cloche.
Get out of the way, donkey cart!
Such that at a certain point, we wonder whether Roberto was exploding not only genre (to reference James Monaco), but the Italian version of “the tradition of quality” against which the French New Wave set themselves so polemically.
“Do you think I’m insane,” asked Elon Musk.
No, of course not.
You’re South African like me.
But at the heart of this film (this is a film review, right?) are the same marital arts (!) which made Benatar sing love is a battlespace. What?
Before Godard and Karina, it was Roberto and Ingrid.
And the tension rubs.
Gimme friction, said Tom Verlaine.
And Paul Verlaine said some stuff which was ignored.
And Rimbaud shot his hand. Or ran guns.
Back when Abyssinia.
Main point is this is beautiful film.
And it’s no accident Mr. and Ms. Joyce.