The problem of this film is that it puts the quality of endurance of the audience at a sore trial. "One sledgehammer tragedy after another" is just the thing, and not everyone can survive that. However, let's stick to the main qualities of the film, that are as undeniable as the best neo-realistic classics of Visconti, Rossellini and de Sica, although there is not a trace of any good humour here. This is nothing to laugh at. It is life pushed to the extreme, and the frame of the drama is the conditions of the workers at the Carrara marble quarries, and almost everything happens around there. The qualities of the actors are also supreme, notably Francoise Rosay as the mother and Yvonne Sanson as the victim of some of the foulest intrigues ever perpetrated on film by the scoundrel slave-driver of the workers at the Carrara quarries. Amedeo Nazzari is the male lead and is perfectly correct as the count and does nothing wrong, while Enrico Olivieri steals all the affections as Bruno, the nun's son. The cinematography is also outstanding in documentary realism all the way, but the real thing here is the architecture of the story. It starts from nothing with a lovely romance and some typical family intrigue, but then slowly but consistently builds up to a towering drama, one foul play act leading to an avalanche of tragedies, as the criminal, as always, finds the only way to get away with his crime committing worse crimes and accelerating the force of the increasing landslide, with consequences, devastating more lives than one. There is also the problem of the obligation of silence at a Catholic confession: the priest knew but said nothing, because he was under the seal of confession, but in some cases that seal must be broken, if the conscience commands it. It's like a Greek or Shakespearean drama of destiny, where people are helpless against the force of circumstances that no one really can be held responsible for.
