The Way We Laughed

Just released on DVD, Gianni Amelio's 1998 film The Way We Laughed is a heartfelt chronicle of the fortunes of two brothers over a six-year period in postwar Italy that parallels the growth of the country from an agricultural to an urbanized, industrial society. Winner of the Grand Lion Award at the Venice Film Festival, the film derives its title from its constant reference to old-fashioned jokes on the back page of an Italian magazine from the fifties. Though I do not feel it is quite on the same level as Amelio's earlier work (L'America, Stolen Children), The Way We Laughed is a soulful and captivating film that evokes a world little remembered except in the great Italian neo-realism films from the 40s and 50s. But the film is far from being a historical or political drama. As Sokurov explored the complex relationships between mothers and fathers and their sons in his Russian films, Amelio investigates the bond between brothers and the issues that result from self-sacrifice in a close-knit Italian family.

The film is separated into six parts labeled "Arrivals," "Deceptions," "Money," "Letters," "Blood" and "Families", each taking place on one day during the period from 1958 to 1964. While this technique allows us to understand the events taking place in Italy during this period, the sudden changes in the lives of the characters is difficult to follow and we are left having to put the pieces of the puzzle together on our own. As the film opens, Giovanni (Enrico Lo Verso), a poor illiterate worker arrives from Sicily to visit his teenage brother Pietro (Francesco Giuffrida) in the industrial north of Italy who is studying to become a teacher. Determined that his brother Pietro will get a good education, he decides to remain in Turin to support him.

It is clear from the outset that all is not well with Pietro. He hides behind a pillar at the train station rather than meeting his brother, then goes out of way to help a Sicilan family who are lost until he finally gives up in disgust. He is very handsome but there is a haunted look in his eyes and it is never clear what his secrets are. Giovanni, magnificently portrayed by Lo Verso, is quite different. He is a giving person -- open and warm hearted. He sacrifices for Pietro, working low paying menial jobs but the younger brother seems unmotivated and does not take studying very seriously. Their love is not at issue, but each has an idealized picture of the other and they never fully come to grips with each other's reality.

As the years go by, Giovanni begins to move up the economic ladder and becomes a low-level Supervisor, then the boss of a cooperative. Pietro meanwhile has gone to a private teacher and has received his degree. The brothers remain close but when Pietro witnesses Giovanni getting into a fight with a presumed underworld figure, the consequences that result from self-sacrifice and the betrayal of morality are explored in a powerful conclusion. Like Giovanni's rise to a position of power through suggested shady dealings, The Way We Laughed seems to be saying that as modern Western societies have become rich, they have arrogantly forgotten the values it took them to get there.

Set in late '50's, early '60's. Brave emigrants from impoverished Sicily make their way in industrial Turin. This movie gives you time with a good-hearted Catanese, Giovanni (Enrico Lo Verso), a man who loves desperately, adoringly. The object: his teenaged brother Pietro (Francesco Giuffrida) who is urbane while Giovanni is elemental.

Giovanni's love and personal honor require that he believe no ill about Pietro. The older brother works like an ox to shield his Pietro-on-a-pedestal from the harsh world of manual labor, to give him better lodgings than he himself enjoys and to keep him in school (where Pietro actually is an inveterate hookey-player and a bored, listless daydreamer).

Though Pietro is detached he nevertheless feels guilt for his deceptions and he loves Giovanni for his sacrifice and natural goodness. ("Giovanni is far too good," he says to the whore-waif his older brother has taken under his protection. "He loves everybody").

But while the facile and literate Pietro drifts, the illiterate but intelligent Giovanni makes useful friends, exploits opportunities and rises in life.

Always Pietro remains at the center of Giovanni's heart. And one night Pietro is given the opportunity, finally, to repay Giovanni's selfless devotion.

If there is a "revelation" in this film, it is near the end when we see that the adoring Giovanni has an unexamined, unquestioned faith that his Pietro has the same devotion to him. As a given, he believes that brotherly sacrifice is a two-way street. The immense decision that his younger brother has made against himself and for Giovanni is merely the kind of thing brothers do for eachother. In a horrifying moment Giovanni opens to us: his great love is unselfconsciously, blanketingly possessive, devouring.

Palermo-born Lo Verso is a great actor. That his beautiful, movingly expressive face is not world-famous is a misfortune. But he is only forty now (early thirties in "Cosi Ridivano"). There is time. Jim Smith-----------------------

Watched on Italian DVD (using the standard-Italian subtitles for the hearing-impaired to decode the Sicilian dialect) for the first time March 2005. Winner of the top prize "Leone d'Oro" at Venice. Actually available as of 2004 on a US code DVD.

The title, referring to an old joke column, is ironic. The film's review of Italian post-war economic miracle years is deeply tinged with sadness and a sense of the price paid in innocence lost to gain security and status. The whole focus is on the love between two Sicilian brothers, Giovanni and Pietro. The angel-faced Pietro (Francesco Giuffrida) from the first appears devious. When his brother arrives at the station, he slinks off and hides from him. He's lazy, a dandy, a liar, a faker, a bad seed. Yet he's worshiped by the innocent, muscular, illiterate Giovanni (Enrico Lo Verso), who has turned up with other southern immigrants at the Turin railway station intending just to visit his baby brother as the film opens and then stays on in the North to support him.

The mise-en-scène is visually beautiful but conventionalizes the period into a kind of grimy poetry more worthy of twenty or thirty years earlier, no doubt consciously echoing Italian neorealist films (Amelio has been called the new De Sica) or becoming a glossier color version of Visconti's mournful epic tragedy of southern Italians in Milan, "Rocco and His Brothers" (1960). My DVD's Italian jacket copy translates a paragraph from Stephen Holden's 2001 NYTimes review expanding one of its key ideas: "'Così rideveno'has the power to keep its own secrets," this Italian version reads. "Without ever being moralistic, by the end it becomes the metaphor for a whole society that makes a kind of tacit pact with itself never to look too deeply into the hidden effects social processes have on individuals and their destinies." The interest -- and yet the frustration -- of the film is that its sequences each appear revelatory, but shed little light on the intervening periods of time. It is organized in a "rather elegant" manner (Rosenbaum) into a structure of microscopic views of single days out of each year from 1959 through 1964, each day designated by a key word: "arrivals," "deceptions," "money", "letters, "blood," and "families." This neat structure masks a surrounding mystery in the relationship between the two brothers, and we deduce for ourselves from the way they seek out and avoid each other how alike and interdependent they are. Each cherishes illusions about the other; one is proud, the other ashamed. Vivid and touching as the film is, it's also highly artificial, notably in how little of the two characters' lives is made clear, how little the world outside their relationship is explored.

Metaphorical indeed, "Così ridevano" explores an inseparable (and ultimately false) dichotomy between innocence and experience, naiveté and sophistication that may go to the heart not only of North-South relations but of the Italian soul. Both actors, Amelio regular Lo Verso and newcomer Giuffreda, are remarkable, and the scenes between them are heartbreaking.

So far the only other Amelio film I've seen is "The Housekeys" ("Le chiavi di casa," 2004), which being a documentary-like chronicle of a short stretch of contemporary time, seems so different, and yet on reflection is so similar in feeling. Obviously Amelio is an extraordinary director and I must see "Lamarica" and "Stolen Children" ("Il ladro di bambini"), both also starring the intense, soulful Lo Verso, which have received the highest praise of any of Amelio's films.

This is to me the finest foreign language film to appear on American shores in many a moon. Gianni Amelio as well as the two splendid actors, Enrico Lo Verso and Francesco Giuffrida are to be congratulated for giving us this amazingly moving film about the human and fallible relationship between two brothers...a relationship laced with unabashed love (yet never sentimentally portrayed) that brings a feeling that these are two sides of one person...The older brother is intelligent, but illiterate and therefore enamored of education (a scene in which he hugs his brother's books through the streets of Turin without a word of dialogue makes a fully felt experience). His sacrifices to further his young brother's studies is brilliantly off-set by the ironic disdain that the 16 year old demonstrates...until he later comes to realize the value of his intellectual capacity.

The non-linear structure...set on six separate days, from 1958 to 1964...is completely in keeping with the curvilinear unfolding of the events and emotional reactions throughout this splendid film.

It's powerful ending achieves the exact right tone. I only wish that awful music that accompanies the closing credits didn't nearly jar my sensibilities out of the rich rewards of the movie.

The Way We Laughed works best as a study of familial obligation. The assumptions that "Blood" result in, the mendacity that can occur only within the structure of brotherly (sisterly/fatherly, etc.) expectation, and the assumption (or non-assumption) of responsibilities that either lie in the character, or despite the character. There's some good stuff about class urban/mainland prejudice included in the film, and some comments about the nature of intelligence. All told via a narrative structure that I find particularly pleasing. By skipping from year to year, we see growth and change, but there's a certain amount of work that we need to do to fill in the intervening spaces. This film makes that work worth it, although near the end I found myself wondering how long it would go on.