IMDb #238 Review: La Strada (1954)

Source: Wikipedia

For nearly two hours (months, in-story), a weird girl follows a beefy alcoholic grouch until tragedy strikes like a brick to the teeth. It’s black and white and Italian, so it’s art.

Yes, there’s more to it. Aforementioned grouch is Zampanò, a “traveling artist” so poor he lives in his motorcycle trailer. He’s a strongman. Meaning, whenever he musters enough bravado to draw a crowd, he follows a routine:

1. Remove shirt. (Very important.)
2. Flex.
3. Attach chain with quarter-inch links around chest.
4. Flex so as to break chain.
5. Collect booze money in hat.

He buys a girl from her mother (just go with it) to wear mime makeup, beat a drum, and pass the cash-collecting hat. First she’s unhappy, then slightly less unhappy, then…well…look, you’ve seen movies before, ain’t ya?

Problem is, Z-man isn’t exactly a diamond in the rough. More like a lump of coal. He sure acts dumb as one. He starts drunken brawls, stomps around, and looks funny in a pinstripe suit. As for the girl he bought? Early in their relationship, he whips her with a switch till she learns to play the trumpet. Their relationship hardly improves.

He’s a grump, a drunk, a womanizer. She wobbles between smiling sadly and mewling like a mopey puppy.

However, they meet a circus troupe, and a charismatic tightrope walker who insists everything has a purpose.

Is this a comedy? A romance? It skeeves me out.

A tragedy? It’s like watching the first act of Beauty and the Beast in super-slow motion.

Fortunately, it’s art.

104 minutes.