"Life isn't like in the movies. Life... is much harder.": What Cinema Paradiso has to teach us.

Well my 50th blog post passed me by last week, so for my 51st post, I want to begin by thanking everyone who has read and engaged in the blog so far. It means a lot.

I am genuinely surprised that it has taken me so long to mention Giuseppe Tornatore’s 1988 Cinema Paradiso. It is one of those classics of European Cinema that made its way to the mainstream, much like its Italian brother Roberto Benigni’s La Vita e Bella. Cinema Paradiso is a love letter to cinema and life. It is utterly charming, but its simple story allows it to address some of the harshest realities we face as we grow up with wit and sensitivity while also reminding us about the joys and importance of a simple life. Pure poetry can be found in the everyday.

Italian cinema has held a place in my heart since discovering Neorealism. Again, the key here was realism and simplicity. Those two things disarm as well as engage a viewer, and once they have us hooked, they teach us a fundamental lesson. Post-Neorealism cinema is different because, with the change in culture, politics and economy, post-WWII films became more hopeful while still wanting to teach us something.

Culture is a huge part of Italian cinema, and with that comes a celebration of landscape, beauty, weather, food, community and family bonds. So many films are critiques of country, society, culture and political systems, so it is refreshing to see a style of filmmaking in which critique and challenge are possible while still celebrating what is good and essential.

Cinema Paradiso follows the life and times of Salvatore, from his childhood in Sicily to his adulthood in Rome. What always struck me about the trailers for Cinema Paradiso was how much they focus on the love story between Salvatore and his teenage sweetheart, but, for me, that is not the most remarkable love story in this film. What is so magical is watching Salvatore fall in love with cinema and discover his passion and, subsequently, his career. His affair of the heart with film had simple beginnings, starting in a small cinema in a humble village that did much more than show films.

Cinema Paradiso captures what cinema used to be, a tradition most likely lost forever. Cinema used to be a collective experience, and cinemas were places where a community came together to laugh and cry (out loud). It was where teenagers came to kiss in the dark. It was a place to cheer for a hero and boo a villain. It brought discussion and debate and a running commentary from the audience. Cinema is so insular now, which is not always bad - cinema is a personal experience, but surely it has closed us off from discussion and understanding.

As a young boy, Salvatore bonds with the cinema’s projectionist Alfredo, who assumes a role as the patriarch in the boy’s life. Cinema Paradiso is deceptive, much like Le Vita e Bella. Its simple and often silly nature makes the inconvenient truths that Alfredo teaches the young boy easier to hear. Some are so difficult to realise that most people won’t even acknowledge them. Alfredo’s lessons come from his life and the films he has seen.

Life has more sacrifices than we might realise. Every path we choose means something is lost on another, and while this is difficult to live with, it is ultimately essential to decide and to stand for something. This burdensome but paramount lesson causes Salvatore to make some difficult decisions. Only when he returns to Sicily as an adult can he see the sacrifices he has made and what was lost on one path by choosing another. This film produces utter poetry. Its dialogue is something to marvel at. While I never like saying too much about a film, it would be a crime not to let Alfredo speak for himself:

Alfredo: Get out of here! Go back to Rome. You're young and the world is yours. I'm old. I don't want to hear you talk anymore. I want to hear others talking about you. Don't come back. Don't think about us. Don't look back. Don't write. Don't give in to nostalgia. Forget us all. If you do and you come back, don't come see me. I won't let you in my house. Understand?

Salvatore: Thank you. For everything you've done for me.

Alfredo: Whatever you end up doing, love it. The way you loved the projection booth when you were a little squirt.

I could share every gem of dialogue with you, but this is not a film to read; you have to live it. The true romance of this film is a love of life. It has its difficult moments, and without them, the moments of love and triumph would not taste nearly as sweet. Film has taught me so much about life and has helped me work through the difficult questions and situations it poses to me, and that is why it means so much to me and has made my list of favourites. Watching Alfredo pass down everything he has learned from his life and every movie he has watched will always bring a tear to my eye, and I am sure it will have the same effect on you. Happy viewing.