Adua and Her Friends

The city is closing down the disorderly houses, but Simone Signoret and her fellow working girls have a plan. They'll open a restaurant in the suburbs and and take men upstairs. Yet, as they work hard to get the restaurant up and working, they find themselves changing.

The 1960s saw the Italians produce some serious movies about working girls, but director Antonio Pietrangeli has directed a fine one here, one that shows the women as individuals, and gotten some fine actresses in the roles; not only Signoret, but Sandra Milo, Emanuelle Riva, and Gina Rovere. They do a fine job, and the script but Pietrangelo with Ettore Scola and Ruggero Maccari makes it clear that the problem is not just with the women, but with the corrupt and venal attitudes of the men around them.

At first I thought this was too long a movie -- it's more than two hours from start to finish -- but there's not a wasted moment.

Antonio Pietrangelli's ADUA E LE COMPAGNE (ADUA AND HER FRIENDS) is a slice of Italian neo-realist film-making.

Legal brothels have just been banned, and now four professional girls must find a new occupation. Adua (Simone Signoret, Room at the Top, Ship of Fools), Milly (Gina Rovere, Life is Beautiful, and Best Actress winner for this film at the Avellino Neorealism Film Festival), Lolita (Sandra Milo, Juliet of the Spirits, nominated for Best Supporting Actress for this film by Italian National Syndicate of Film Journalists), and Marilina (Emmanuelle Riva, Hiroshima Mon Amour) create a restaurant with the plan to make an illicit brothel of the upstairs rooms.

When obstacles prevent opening their restaurant, they turn to Dr. Ercoli (Claudio Gora), a local "fixer" who'll make the license happen, but only for a price. They carry on, but know the past will eventually come knocking. With a restaurant that's slowly becoming successful, and the attentions of car salesman Piero (Marcello Mastroianni), Adua and the girls adjust to their new lives. One starts a new romance; another reconnects with her young son.

If you are looking for titillation in a story about four prostitutes, you need to look elsewhere, as this film, with some stirring jazz, focuses on the characters in transition.

Very fine, gloriously black and white, very well acted drama involving four girls who decide to pool their resources and run a restaurant together when their brothel is closed down. There are so many moments where this could easily have become sentimental and doesn't and is much to the director's credit that this looks so good throughout. The jazz soundtrack is a great help as are the snatches or 'real life' - the steam trains rushing below car dealer Mastroianni's window, the fine moment in the main street when he passes off Signoret's failing car to another whilst slipping her into one more. But the best of all such sequences is the final shot upon the cobblestoned street in the pouring rain and without a cloying close-up, we all know exactly what the facial expression is. As I say all the acting is good but Signoret particularly puts in another excellent performance where she ranges from sexy to sad and energetic to dejected, but perhaps best of all her verbal onslaught upon 'the landlord'.

Anybody who saw this film upon it's original British release under the title 'Hungry for Love' would have suffered a grievous disappointment to discover that behind the provocative title there actually lay an ambling bittersweet anecdote showcasing the ripe charms of Simone Signoret as an earth mother presiding over a quartet of tarts with hearts who in the Italian way are more concerned with preparing food than making love.

The characters smoke so much - to the extent that Signoret inquires of a youthful Marcello of his constant renewal of cigarettes "Is it to save matches?" - it should carry a health warning. Piero Piccioni provides the proceedings with a busy jazz score, while Armando Nannuzi's mobile photography glides gracefully through both the palatial interiors and the surrounding landscape.

Italian screenwriter-director Antonio Pietrangeli died young at the age of 49, during a drowning accident while shooting COME, QUANDO, PERCHÉ (1969), and ADUA AND HER FRIENDS, perhaps is his most distinguished work treads the post-Neorealism soil with a broad comic vibe.

Adua (Signoret) and her three friends, more specifically, her workmates, Lolita (Milo), Marilina (Riva) and Milly (Rovere) are prostitutes, who are out of work due to the Merlin law, which made brothels illegal in Italy in 1958, together, they invest all their savings to open a trattoria in the suburbs of Rome, hope to start a new business and leave their dishonourable past behind, but a second chance seems to be a dashed dream for people like them. The restaurant business is thriving, at one time, their customer even includes the famed cantautore Domencico Modugno, but soon the reality check will catch up with these girls, a bleak coda shows that the society is not ready to welcome them back with warm arms.

The synopsis sounds rather despondent, but the movie is beguilingly infused with a boisterous commedia dell'arte sheen. The quartet itself doesn't hold together in the first place, Lolita is a hackneyed bimbo, gullible and care-free , who foolhardily believes in her swindling beau Stefano (Tedeschi); Marilina is the cynical one made up with plenty of bile and has an unbaptised son to care about; Milly, is an unassuming hard-worker, who is really close to a happy marriage with their one of their frequenters Emilio (Rais); finally Adua, the oldest and wisest among them, has a worldly perception but her ill-fated romance with a smooth-talking Italian Romeo Piero (Mastroianni, in his usual dashing and flirtatious flair) can only spell happiness is nothing but a dashed dream for her, Signoret again cement the scenes where superficial comedy head-butts with harsh realism.

Pietrangeli never shifts his sympathy towards these women of ill repute in his vigorous portrayal, even for Marilina (Riva is equipped with searing fierceness here), whose wanton behaviour initially occasions a fervent sense of objectionableness, but her hard edge begins to mellow once her son is back in her life. They are far from perfect, but at least, they try very hard to be self-sufficient, which is in sheer comparison with all the men in their lives, are either ignoble self-seekers, callous brutes or dreadful cowards, save for the layman priest (D'Amore). The condemnation is sublimated in the ending, where although only Adua is present, but if she is at her wits' end, it is not difficult to imagine what happens to the other three. On balance, the film is a diverting romp carrying a scorching message, deserves the attention of hardcore cinephiles.