Marriage and Divorce Italian Style: Love, Death, Mastroianni (and Sophia Loren)

Divorce Italian Style (1961) and Marriage Italian Style (1964) are two very different movies, from two different (and excellent) directors, with differing intentions, different cinematographers, and mostly different casts. What they have in common is a satirical take on Italian attitudes at the time, and Marcelo Mastroianni as their leading man. Both films are entertaining and remain well worth watching. Mastroianni is always fascinating; while SophiaLoren, his co-star in “Marriage,” gives a must-see performance.

I’ve seen quite a few Italian pictures over the past year, but not many comedies; plus, these two titles appealed to the professional sensibilities of my day job. Sadly (or perhaps fortunately), although Mastroianni engages the services of legal counsel in each of these films, neither provided instruction qualifying for CLE credit.

“Divorce” and “Marriage” arrived in the U.S. a half century ago, in the vanguard of a new wave of European cinema that was garnering American attention. Films such as L’avventura  (Antonioni), La Dolce Vita and 8 1/2 (Fellini), Two Women  (De Sica),  the Leopard (Visconti)  and Boccaccio’70 (various) from Italy;  along with Shootthe Piano Player and Jules and Jim (Truffaut), Last Year at Marienbad (Resnais), Contempt (Goddard),  and Umbrellas of Cherbourg (Demy)  from France, were opening American eyes to a more “adult” style of filmmaking than much of the Hollywood product of the time.

Divorce Italian Style (Divorzio all'italiana) arrived first. Writer-director Pietro Germi won an Oscar for the screenplay in 1963 (two years after its release in Italy) and was also nominated for best director that year. At Cannes, "Divorce" was nominated for the Palme d’Or and won an award as the best comedy. “Divorce” is the story of Ferdinando, a melancholy, down at the heels Sicilian nobleman (Mastroianni), unhappy in his marriage - in fact, repulsed by his clingy, chattering, unattractive wife, Rosalia (Daniela Rocca) - who falls in love with a pretty young cousin, Angela (Stefania Sandrelli), and cultivates fantasies of a future life of bliss with the young princess. Aside from a ludicrous 20 year age difference, Ferdinando's problem here is that there is no divorce in Sicily. Undaunted, he is determined to find a way out.

Soon, Ferdinando has a flash of inspiration and a scheme (and a plot) is born. It seems that in the traditional and chauvinistic society of mid-century Sicily, and by extension, southern Italy as well, killing one's wife is not necessarily a bad thing; in fact, if she is having an affair, it is the manly thing to do. All Ferdinando has to do is catch her in the act, and knock her off in the heat of passion. He might get three or four years for manslaughter, but then he’ll have the rest of his life to spend with Angela, his little angel. [This is not much of a spoiler, as this set up is developed in the first 20 minutes of the film.] For the rest of the movie, we get to watch Ferdinando try to arrange a love affair for his wife, as he imagines various, hilarious closing arguments by his melodramatic, Shakespearean defense lawyer (Leopoldo Trieste) at a presumed murder trial.

A great moment in the movie is when word spreads throughout the village that Rosalia has run off with another man. Ferdinando does nothing except walk around with a hangdog expression. At first he is pitied, but soon sympathy turns to scorn, and then to outright ostracism, because he is not chasing after her to seek revenge. (This is what he was waiting for!)

Mastroianni’s  character is the center of "Divorce". He is silly, woebegone, bumbling, dreamy and yet strategic throughout. Handsome, of course, but in an effete, world-weary sort of way. His performance is wonderful, but only one of the reasons to seek out this film. The other is the indelible images  (beautiful black and white cinematography) and impressions presented to us of life in a small Sicilian town in which everyone knows everyone else's business, in which church, family, social hierarchy and conservative values are paramount, and in which taboos abound but are frequently broken.  The picture takes us to and satirizes another time and place. As it lampoons the moral hypocrisies of these Sicilian villagers, we are encouraged to consider our own.  I found it funny, but I expect it was even more amusing and on point to the Italian audiences of its day.

One inside joke: Fellini's film La Dolce Vita  (released the previous year) is featured in an important couple of scenes in "Divorce".  Posters are everywhere, featuring an iconic image of Anita Ekberg. It is the talk of the village.The priest denounces it. Everyone flocks to see it on its opening night. The male star of that film was, of course, Marcello Mastroianni!

Although Divorce Italian Style did not invent Italian cinematic satire, it was much imitated, and gave rise to the linguistic term describing the genre: commedia all'italiana.

Marriage Italian Style (Matrimonio all'italiana), obviously named to capitalize on its predecessor, is another commedia all’italiana picture, perhaps more usefully described as a romantic comedy.  A comedy by Vittorio deSica? De Sica of neo-realism fame? The director of The Bicycle Thief (1948) and Umberto D (1952), two of the bleakest movies ever made? Yep! But don’t fear: like the best romantic comedies, “Marriage” has a conscience and a heart, too - in this case embodied in its central character, brilliantly portrayed by Sophia Loren.

As the film opens we meet wealthy, sophisticated,  middle aged businessman Domenico Soriano (Mastroianni again) as he is making final arrangements for his marriage to a pretty, much younger, cashier at one of his shops. He gets word that there is an emergency: Filumena, his mistress is ill, very ill. He needs to come right away. He doesn't have time for this, but, annoyed, he rushes off to see what’s up. His attitude changes when he first lays eyes on Filumena (Loren). She is wan and weak, lying in her bed, whispering his name. She appears to be dying, and two doctors confirm the diagnosis.  Domenico feels terrible. He has been involved with this woman for 22 years. With the encouragement of the parish priest, he grants Filumena her last wish and marries her.

But wait, it's a trick. She's not really dying. She does feel entitled to intervene, however, in Dommi’s plans to marry the young babe. Filumena has not only been his mistress for these 22 years, she took care of his dying mother, she managed his bakery business, and she put up with his philandering and his other crap all that time. He owes her, she tells him in no uncertain terms.

About this time, the film flashes back to tell the story of Dommi and Filumena's relationship, starting with their meeting, during a World War II bombing raid, at the Naples brothel where she worked as a prostitute, through a lustful courtship and  several vignettes from their life together. As the story unfolds, and this is really Filumena's story, we meet a beautiful, illiterate and endearing young woman and watch her grow into the tough, loving, soulful and intelligent middle-aged mistress we met at the beginning. We learn her secrets, we feel her pain, we root for her.

This is one of Sophia Loren’s best roles, multifaceted, sexy, complicated, and completely human. As we watch, she takes us on a journey which starts as an appreciation of her (considerable) outward beauty and develops into an appreciation of her strength of character and inner truth. The woman could act! It also bears repeating that she was gorgeous – one of the all-time screen beauties in a very competitive field. She owns every scene she's in. There is a great moment early in the picture where Loren, as young Filumena, is going out with Dommi. She is wearing a light print dress. She is happy, smiling. She sashays down the street and every guy along the way, young and old, stops what he's doing and stares in admiration. Couldn’t help themselves!   [and yes, fans, Sophia is near the top of my  “girlfriends” list – a hall of famer, in fact)

Domenico is good-looking, of course, but not a likable character. He is arrogant, self-centered, chauvinistic, and patronizing. We have little sympathy for him, although he does provide many comic moments, as we watch him squirm.  All these years, he thought he was in control, but we come to realize the power Filumena has had over him. When he learns of Filumena’s deepest secret, he reacts boorishly (but, typical of this picture, comically). There is a wonderful chemistry between Mastroianni and Loren (which may explain the many pictures they made together). Surprisingly, it is not sexual chemistry, but more a symbiotic male-female relationship. They are remarkably comfortable together.   When Domenico and Filumena argue, we believe they mean it. As they struggle with rapprochement, we feel what they feel.

This is a comedy, and there are laughs; but there are also tears. It is more than just a "whore with a heart of gold" story, more than just an early version of Pretty Woman (1990). The movie is a commentary on the sexual politics of the time. For most of his life with her, Domenico saw Fillumena as a sexual object, and later as a possession. We come to see Filumena as a woman with depth of experience:  joy, bitterness, motherhood, victimization, triumph. She is sexy, but so much more.

De Sica’s films of this period are seen by some critics as a fall from grace, a sell-out, compared to his earlier work. I disagree. I loved Umberto D, and I admire The Bicycle Thief (although it’s too long). The fact that “Divorce” is a more commercially entertaining film does not detract from its power or its richness. And De Sica knew how to bring out the best in Sophia Loren. Despite her looks and ability, she made a lot of clunkers, so let’s give the director some credit here!

It may be hard to appreciate in our own libertine times, but “Marriage” dealt frankly with matters that American films, still under the sway of the infamous Motion Picture Production Code, simply skirted or ignored: sex, prostitution, cohabitation, out-of-wedlock children, etc. This openness and honesty, within the confines of a romantic comedy (as opposed to, say, a documentary) must have been titillating and refreshing to 1964 audiences. The influx of such movies no doubt contributed to the greater openness in our cinema beginning later in the decade. The “Code” was abandoned in 1968.

One more word about Marcello Mastroianni: David Thomson, the great film critic/historian, describes him this way: “Melancholy and postcoital disenchantment shine in his eyes.” His characters convey “a mixture of advertised sex appeal and actual apathy verging on impotence.” Having just watched these two films, I think Thomson’s got a point. In “Divorce”, Ferdinando was not interested in sex; not with his wife (who was interested) and not with his dream girl, Angela. In “Marriage”, Domenico frequents brothels, is certainly attracted to Filumena, and apparently was catting-around with other women, but this seems to have had more to do with power than with lust. There is an air of apathy and disappointment in both of these roles. I recall similar attitudes in his L’avventura and 8 ½ characters. Nevertheless, women of my acquaintance seem attracted to him despite, or maybe because of, these attributes.

Both films are available as DVDs from Netflix; Marriage Italian Style is also available for streaming.