Viva l’Italia!

Although it is rarely ranked among the most acclaimed or influential of Roberto Rossellini’s films, Viva l’Italia! (1961) was a particularly important venture for the director himself. Having been enamoured with the revolutionary zeal and military acumen of Giuseppe Garibaldi since he was a child – enacting the general’s actions in his family’s living room and revelling in his grandfather’s personal anecdotes – when the time later came to pay tribute to Garibaldi and commemorate the first centenary of Italy’s unification (Risorgimento), Rossellini was among those approached for an epic feature about this fateful undertaking. Initially conceived to have related instalments by the likes of Federico Fellini, Luchino Visconti, and Vittorio De Sica, this omnibus proposition was ultimately abandoned, but Rossellini remained. The result was a “documentary made after the event,” according to the director, “trying to figure out what happened.”¹

As an opening scrawl declares, Viva l’Italia! is dedicated to the “living memory” of Garibaldi, a testament to his enduring legacy as well as that of his legendary Thousand, a corps of volunteers who led the charge to bring the divided states of Italy together as one nation. Credited to a handful of writers including Rossellini, all utilising the diary of Garibaldi’s aide de camp Giuseppe Bandi as a primary source, Viva l’Italia! is, like Rossellini’s 1946 masterpiece Paisà (Paisan), a progressive march through varied Italian landscapes amid times of tremendous change and upheaval. While somewhat simplistic in terms of structure, the plot is nevertheless an effective and efficient sequence of episodic touchstones, usually following the repeated pattern of rest, strategic deliberation, action, and the advance to the next phase in Garibaldi’s quest. Throughout the picture, as the assorted players and moving parts of the campaign are judiciously provided context without an overwhelming textbook of names, dates, and locations, the forward momentum of the operation, like that of the film itself, seldom falters. 

To illustrate the mounting crusade, Rossellini employed gorgeous Eastmancolor photography (with Luciano Trasatti manning the camera) and bolstered the drama with a rousing score by his brother and stalwart collaborator, Renzo. With an aesthetic that is consequently rather conservative by Rossellini standards, Viva l’Italia! celebrates the most appealing of traditional epic trappings, and his expert choreography of crowds amid scenic splendour contributes to the cinematic polish. His roaming camera traverses the countryside from a frequently distanced and detached vantage, canvasing the fierceness from afar and taking in the scope and sweep of the skirmishes as the iconic red shirts of Garibaldi’s men pepper the earth toned panorama. By contrast, and more aligned with Rossellini’s prior work, the focus when zeroed in on particular characters during combat, or when the film diverts from the fighting altogether, is one of subjective impressions and pointed emotional resonance. See, for example, the subdued conclusion of the picture. It is a bittersweet finale, with the mission largely accomplished but Garibaldi and his men now cast away as reserves.

At the centre of all this is, of course, Garibaldi. As played by Renzo Ricci – recognizable from the film he made just prior to Viva l’Italia!, Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Avventura (1960) – Garibaldi is a compendium of heroic features. He is at once stern and sober, driven by his patriotic zest and devotion to the cause, and yet he compels as a starry-eyed idealist: skilled in oratory inspiration, accessible, and human. Ricci and Rossellini treat their characterisation with a subtle naturalism that is both quirky and authentic; the great leader is seen taking in a quick snack before battle, drowsily waking in his nightshirt, acknowledging the burdens of his responsibilities, and lamenting his rheumatism. 

More than anything, though, this Garibaldi embodies the ragtag rebellion. He is compassionate, pragmatic, and voices the infectious enthusiasm of he, his men, and those united in their plight – “We’re here to make Italy or die!” Sometimes, this enthusiasm gets the better of those loyal to the man and his mission, as when soldiers eagerly push ahead despite Garibaldi’s advisory lamentation, “Can’t you stand still?” Or, when celebratory masses surround Garibaldi, he attempts to calm their adoration by entreating, “I’m just a man like you. … We’re brothers, we’re equal.” As time passes, Garibaldi’s actions gain the attention of writers like Alexandre Dumas, who later wrote of the commander’s life and efforts, and inquisitive foreign journalists (newspapers played a significant role in the reality of Garibaldi’s campaign and support the film’s exposition). 

While allowing for sporadic, distinctive outliers, the common appraisal of Rossellini’s filmography divides his work into fairly well distinguished periods, from his films made during the Fascist reign, to his Neorealist output, to his modernist collaborations with Ingrid Bergman. For its part, Viva l’Italia! heralded the final stage of Rossellini’s working life, where his attention turned to historical films about critical figures from the past. Though nowhere near as pared down as the productions he subsequently made for television, Viva l’Italia! shaped the mould. Writes Rossellini biographer Tag Gallagher: “Roberto for the remainder of his life campaigned unceasingly for ‘didactic’ films, for films that would resemble each other not in style, but in being informative.”²

Inevitably there would be criticism over these films and their veracity, and such was surely the case with Viva l’Italia! What Rossellini did or didn’t include in the film and how he interpreted Garibaldi, his allies, and his adversaries roused debate among scholars, critics, and even the writers of the film itself. But these discrepancies essentially miss the point. As Gallagher observes, “Rosellini’s changes compress the reality, purify it, strip away the ‘unessential,’ sharpen the drama and heighten the ‘myth.’”³ Rossellini’s genius, he adds, “was not his realism, but his ability to overwhelm people with emotions linked to actuality – which is quite a different thing.”⁴ Rossellini also acknowledged the complexities of tackling such a momentous moment in time and such a revered individual catalyst: “I shot the episodes with the same scrupulousness as a documentarist, except I had to shoot them, unfortunately, a century later.”⁵

In any case, Viva l’Italia! succeeds because of what it is, not because of what isn’t or what some wanted it to be. It is a film where the revolution in the air is palpable, where the gravity and tension of the “people’s rebellion” generates a gripping work of unambiguous patriotism, proudly waving its tricolour and embracing fervent chants and hymns. Political dynamics are entwined with the lofty ambitions of those rushing forward against the odds in this pivotal “war of liberation.” For Gallagher, Rossellini would therefore “play his role as his nation’s cinematic poet laureate.”⁶ And for Rossellini, Viva l’Italia! became the film of which he was most proud. “I consider it important as a work of research,” he reflected, “as the most carefully done of all my films, and then because I feel it to be intimately true. I must confess, at the risk of sounding ridiculous, that when I watch Viva l’Italia! – and it’s the only one of my films that I’ve seen two or three times – my hair stands on end and tears come to my eyes.”⁷

Viva l’Italia! (1961 Italy/France 129 mins)

Prod Co: Francinex, Galatea Film, Tempo Film Prod: Oscar Brazzi Dir: Roberto Rossellini Scr: Sergio Amidei, Luigi Chiarini, Roberto Rossellini Phot: Luciano Trasatti Ed: Roberto Cinquini Mus: Renzo Rossellini Prod Des: Giuseppe Mariani Cos Des: Marcella De Marchis Sound: Oscar Di Santo, Enzo Maggi

Cast: Renzo Ricci, Paolo Stoppa, Franco Interlenghi, Giovanna Ralli, Leonardo Botta, Carlo Gazzabini, Marco Mariani, Gérard Herter, Giovanni Petrucci, Pietro Braccialini, Nando Angelini, Vando Tress, Attilio Dottesio

Endnotes