[psycho d]

The Bicycle Thief (1948). Vittorio De Sica's masterpiece has stood the test of time for one primal reason, the plight of man has yet to change. The proletariat, the commoner, will forever be relegated to the social periphery, ceaselessly manipulated by the whims of the world's rich and powerful, at least until the time is near for votes to be cast. The titular object of this film is of no particular importance to everyone but its owner, but his very survival, his family's survival, rests upon that dang bicycle. And this tale is one of the commoner as he is faced with the reality of his significance in the eyes of the world as opposed to his dependents.

This is a rather grim tale, and it really captures the mood of an Italy at a time when survival is the is a family's chief concern. Our protagonist is just a down and out commoner, no better or worse than the rest, and hence when we feel the ache of his plight it is the plight of most of his countrymen. To judge the actions of these desperate men, where hocking bicycles and even your bedding is the only means by which to obtain a meal, is a difficult endeavor for us today, comfortably chubby and ensconced in our loveseats.

The acting was phenomenal, even more so as this Italian paradigm of neorealism used unprofessional actors in the lead roles. These were people whose plight in life was real, and this translates supremely in the hand of Vittorio. The father son relationship is one of particular importance, marking a symbolic transcendence from the naive to the real world, and in as grim a manner as can be imagined. A special note should be said of child actor Enzo Staiola. When this kid literally looked up to his father one could almost sense his pride and faith, as strong as any pilgrim has of his god.

Little more need be said of the direction. Serving as the go to example of Italian neorealism, The Bicycle Thief rightly confers Vittorio's name to be equated with cinematic brilliance for eternity.
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