Rocco e i suoi fratelli
Luchino Visconti (1960)
In political terms highly relevant and controversial at the time of its original release, Visconti’s gripping melodrama has acquired other layers in the half century since. It seems strikingly to foreshadow features of The Godfather – not only by the splendours of Nino Rota’s score (one of the main melodies is only a note or two away from the ‘Godfather waltz’) but also in its description of the strength and tyranny of family. This central theme is wonderfully realised in the opening scenes: Rosaria (Katina Paxinou), the matriarch of the Parondi family, arrives from the poor rural south with four of her five sons, to start a new life in Milan. They more or less gatecrash the engagement party of the fifth and eldest son, Vincenzo (Spiros Focas), already settled in the big city with his Milanese fiancée Ginetta (Claudia Cardinale – excellent). The movement of the party from noisy conviviality to the first outbreak of hostilities between the Parondis and the future in-laws is dizzying. There are more detailed resonances with The Godfather in the story: the middle son Rocco (Alain Delon) completes his national service and makes clear he doesn’t want a career as a boxer like his immediate elder Simone (Renato Salvatori). For the sake of the family, Rocco not only follows Simone into the ring but aborts his relationship with the former prostitute Nadia (Annie Girardot). Rocco is convinced he is doing the right thing; the consequences of his decision are tragic.
Rocco and His Brothers doesn’t stand comparison with the first two Godfather films in terms of dramatic substance. So much of the power of the Corleones’ story derives from the impact of familial imperatives in the public world, which Rocco can’t hope to emulate. More important, Rocco, unlike Michael Corleone, isn’t someone who starts off by distancing himself from the values of his family. Towards the end of the film, he’s fairly described by Ciro (Max Cartier), the elder of his two younger brothers, as a ‘pure heart’. Rocco’s development is from natural, harmless loyalty to willed, dangerous loyalty but his self-sacrifice is lacking in tension. There’s a weakness too in Visconti’s beautifying approach to some of the main characters. Alain Delon is very skilful, emerging from his quiet early scenes within the family into the moral centre of the film. He has a lovely blend of modesty and determination in the scene with Nadia that establishes their romance; but he’s not convincing as a successful professional fighter, even if his face gives him an added nobility and vulnerability. Annie Girardot, although she’s magnetic, is too elegant and civilised to be other than an expressionist study of the soul of a streetwalker with the desire and potential for a better life.
There are scenes of conflict that lack the complexity they need to make them more than melodramatic. But there are also many moments that excitingly communicate the pulse of life in a big family and tremendous, sometimes horrifying sequences – such as Simone’s rape of Nadia, and the climactic family meal to celebrate Rocco’s latest boxing win. (This occasion provides a grim symmetry with the opening party.) And the increasing yearning of the Parondis to return to the simple life of their past gives the story a larger dimension; it gets at something inherent in family life and memory. Some of Visconti’s usual collaborators were involved: Giuseppe Rotunno behind the camera; Piero Tosi as costume designer; Suso Cecchi D’Amico as one of the co-writers of the screenplay (which is based on a novel by Giovanni Testori). The youngest of the sons, Luca, is played by Rocco Vidolazzi. Adriana Asti has a memorable cameo as a sexually hungry laundress.
7 May 2008
