A movie blogger urging readers to go see The Bicycle Thief on a big screen is like a book reviewer urging people to check out this Faulkner fellow. But so perfect was the Siren's experience of this masterpiece, which is playing in a remastered version at Lincoln Plaza through Nov. 20, that she would feel churlish if she didn't urge her New York readers to go. The Siren had not seen Vittorio de Sica's masterpiece since the days when she could be found most weekends searching for a seat with no spring damage at Theatre 80 St Marks. Even in the rear-projection, odd-angle St Marks venue the Siren loved The Bicycle Thief. But oh, the bliss of seeing it again in a movie theatre, even with an imperfect print.
I could take in Lamberto Maggiorani's shoulder blades poking into his thin jacket, the way Enzo Staiola's mini-grownup face crumples back into heartbroken toddlerhood at a blow from his frustrated father, feel again the incredible release in the beautiful shot of the boy at the top of a staircase, just as we begin to share Maggiorani's fear that he has drowned.
The Bicycle Thief is much concerned with the burdens of family, piled onto viewers with scenes such as Maggiorani's infant on a bed, its exposed legs miserably thin. Just the sight of the baby alone would underline the man's desperation.
But the movie is also about the consolations of family, as a son's hand becomes the sole barrier to complete despair.
You could do much worse with your weekend. Just go see it again, all right?
The Bicycle Thief is much concerned with the burdens of family, piled onto viewers with scenes such as Maggiorani's infant on a bed, its exposed legs miserably thin. Just the sight of the baby alone would underline the man's desperation.
But the movie is also about the consolations of family, as a son's hand becomes the sole barrier to complete despair.
You could do much worse with your weekend. Just go see it again, all right?
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