A Special Day is the second of two movies I planned to review in tandem - one new and the other (this one) from the mid 1970s - tied together only by their freshness and recommendability. The new movie is Lucky Grandma, and my review of that film can be found HERE. Somewhat belatedly, this post is about the wonderful 1977 film, which feels as original and new as the day it was released (at least it would if you had never heard of its internationally famous lead actors).
A Special Day stars the fabulous duo of Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni, this being the eleventh of thirteen pictures they made together. While most of the others are rom-coms, this one is most definitely not; in a rather unusual way it could be said to be romantic, but it is very much a drama. Yet it truly IS special and definitely among their very best pairings - along with Marriage Italian Style (1964) and Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow (1963). Those two films were made when Sophia was in her late twenties and Marcello in his late thirties – which is to say at the height of their respective hotness - and both pictures were directed by Vittorio de Sica [Bicycle Thieves (1948), Two Women (1960)]. By 1977, when A Special Day was released, Sophia was 43 and Marcello 53, both still international mega-stars and both still attractive but no longer sex symbols. This film was written and directed by Ettore Scola, a pretty big deal director in European circles but with far less US name recognition than de Sica, fewer of his pictures having been released here.
The story takes place in an apartment building in Rome on a single day, May 8, 1938, the special day of the title – special because it’s the day of the big parade celebrating the state visit of Adolf Hitler and his retinue (among them Goebbels, von Ribbentrop and Hess) with Italy’s revered leader, Benito Mussolini aka “Il Duce”, the man who invented fascism. We learn about this in the first six minutes of the picture which is made up of exclusively of archival footage: der Fuhrer’s train racing toward the Italian capital; tens of thousands of joyous Italians lining the way, waving, cheering, and exulting; an Italian propagandist’s voiceover breathlessly hailing Hitler’s “triumphal journey” and the grand significance of the occasion. Meanwhile in Rome, the announcer proudly tells us, “The fascist emblem meets the swastika and the two nations’ flags stream side by side in the wind!” Looking forward, the exuberant narrator gushes “The climax of the visit will come tomorrow … when the full force of the mighty Italian war machine will parade before Hitler. No citizen of Rome would miss this historic event that will seal the pact of friendship between two peoples destined to be allies.”
All of this is prologue. We do not attend the great military parade. Hitler and Mussolini do not appear again. The focus instead shifts to a tale of two isolated people who live on opposite sides of a what appears to be a large middle-class housing project. As the day breaks on the morning of the big event, patriotic flags are being hung. In the apartment of Antonietta (Loren), it’s 6 a.m. and her family: a boorish, domineering husband and her six (!) children - ranging in age from about 7 to 17 - are waking up and getting ready to participate in the big event. Antonietta, who is staying behind, is expected to do all the household and parenting chores - essentially treated as a servant. Her flat affect and doer expression suggest that she feels like one. Surrounded by her family, she is nevertheless alone.
Before we go any further there are a couple of quite remarkable things one notices already at this point early in the movie. First is that Sophia Loren – a stunningly gorgeous lady - looks drab and apathetic. Her eyes are dull. Her hair is a mess, her cheap, washed out house frock is what in Yiddish is called schmatta. It also hides her famously marvelous figure, not that she seems to care at this point. This appearance is aided by the second interesting visual feature: although filmed in color, the picture is so desaturated that it almost (but not quite) looks like a sepia-toned black and white movie; except that the bright red of the Italian Tri-color and the swastika’d German national flag hanging in the courtyard are a deep wine red; the flowers printed on Antonietta’s dress have a bit of a rose tint; and her skin color is not gray, but a pale olive-brown. If you pay enough attention, you might notice how her skin tone warms up and, in fact, the color cast of the picture as a whole becomes subtly richer and a little brighter, reflecting changing circumstances as the story progresses.
These changes begin soon after the rest of the family leaves en masse to join nearly everyone else in the building - and by extension in the entire city – as they throng to the center of ancient Rome for the day’s patriotic festivities. Antonietta is alone at last. Or nearly. The building’s caretaker stays behind, as she apparently must, but she’s got the radio on, tuned to an unbroken broadcast describing all the glorious events celebrating the Mussolini – Hitler concord, loud enough so she can hear it wherever she goes – as can we, as an ongoing, foreboding background to the intimate drama we are about to witness.
That part of the story begins on a fluky cinematic pretext – while Antonietta is cleaning the cage of her mynah, Rosmunda, the bird takes the opportunity to flit over to the window and then out before Antonietta can intervene. Eventually, Rosmunda lands across the way and a couple floors higher, on a fire escape. It is then that Antonietta notices the sole other resident who has stayed home on this special day – a solitary man, sitting with his back to her, by his window just a few feet from the bird’s roost. When he does not respond to Antonietta’s shouts, she decides to go over there to get his attention and hopefully retrieve her rascal pet.
The man is Gabrielle (Mastroianni), a dapper, dispirited fellow whom we meet sitting at a paper strewn desk, morosely eying a pistol he has just removed from the desk drawer. Although fastidious, he too looks rather beaten down. The cause of his disheartened attitude has yet to be discovered, but we sense loneliness and perhaps even hopelessness in his eyes and demeanor. Whatever his immediate intentions, Gabrielle is interrupted by Antonietta’s rap on his apartment door. Their meeting, as Bogie once said in a different context, is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
The pairing of Sophia and Marcello has to connote images of romance – in part because both of these film stars are known to be ultra-attractive actors and in equal part because they have played romantic partners in several movies and romantic leads in many more. A Special Day plays on these expectations, but the relationship that develops between Antonietta and Gabrielle over the next several hours, while a romance of sorts, is of a different order than what we’ve come to expect.
In order to discuss the themes of this movie and a little about these characters requires me to reveal what you may consider a spoiler. I hesitate to call it that because this is not primarily a plot-driven movie; rather it’s about the unique relationship that develops between the two protagonists and why it is so significant for them – so foreknowledge of a key “plot” point ought not ruin anything. In other words, surprise is not necessary to enjoy or appreciate the film. Still, if you want to be surprised, don’t read beyond this paragraph. I say can three things about the film without any story reveal, so as to encourage you to see it: The writing and direction are pitch perfect; and Loren and Mastroianni are superlative, the beauty and subtlety of their performances widely acknowledged to be high points in their storied careers. And because the grace and humanity of their characters stand in such stark contrast to the expectations and morality of the time and place in which the story is set, this is considered an important and classic movie. It’s also one that remains relevant to issues in the current moment.
I’m sure you’re wondering what becomes of Rosmunda, but this is really a mynah point. [Sorry, couldn’t resist!] What is important is that when Antonietta and Gabrielle meet, a spark of simpatico passes between them. Gabrielle’s mood lightens. Antonietta is a little slower to appreciate what is happening, but she feels some attraction, even though this fellow is certainly very different than her. He is a man of education, a man of words. She never finished school. He is more than a little skeptical about the fascist regime’s herd nationalism and distains the Mussolini cult. She has admired the great leader, and has kept a worshipful scrapbook of clippings about him. He was a famous radio announcer for Radio Italia, before he recently was sacked. She was a no-nothing serf to her family, bullied by an unloving husband.
But why was he sacked? For being a “degenerate” – officialdom’s code for a homosexual. Now he’s a pariah, reduced to a menial job addressing postcards, and facing internal exile.
Slowly, especially on her part, they begin to open up to each other. Gabrielle eventually tells Antonietta the truth about his sexual orientation, and about what life as a closeted gay is like. He tells her of his efforts to conceal his identity. “The worst part is – you try to seem different from what you truly are. They force you to feel ashamed of yourself. To hide.” At one point, Gabrielle leafs through Antonietta’s Mussolini scrapbook, pausing at a couple of her handwritten quotes from the Italian dictator. One, under a photo of Il Duce greeting a group of female admirers, says “Fascist women, you must be the keepers of the hearth.” Another, accompanying a famous photo of Mussolini with his family, intones “The man who is not a husband, father, soldier is not a man.” Gabrielle, of course, is none of those things. Later, there’s a quote about how only men are biologically and intellectually capable of greatness. Gabrielle’s skepticism forces Antonietta to consider, perhaps for the very first time, what that implies about her own identity and place in her world.
There are no bombshells, no flashes of lightning in the story of these two lonely people, just a subtle, brilliant script and wonderfully nuanced, engaged performances by two great actors as a couple of people stumbling toward a new understanding. Gabrielle is reminded of what it means to simply connect with and be accepted by a fellow human being; Antonietta begins to awaken to what it means to actually BE human. Like Gabrielle, she has not been permitted to consider and express who she really is. Just as Gabrielle has been humiliated because of his sexual orientation; Antonietta comes to feel similarly, to recognize that she has been constrained and exploited because she’s “just” a woman. In both cases, the suppression of the individual is both social and political.
Although this movie was made in 1977, nearly 35 years after the destruction of Italian fascism, one significant aspect of this special day in 1938 - and one of the subtle yet unforgettable achievements of the movie A Special Day, is how clearly it evokes the willingness of a mass of people to repress and submerge their values and their critical thinking in the thrall of a charismatic leader who exudes power and confidence, and of the appeal more generally of patriotic authoritarianism. The Mussolini dictatorship glorified the dual fantasies of nationalism and of one great unified society – a society which, as we see and feel, embodies a consuming mob-think, politically and in mores as well - with its expectation of uniformity and with all its unthinking prejudices, social cruelty and injustice. As the landlady tells Antonietta at one point, it’s okay to be a thief or a scoundrel so long as one supports the Party; but an antifascist or a skeptic is scum, can not to be tolerated.
In our increasingly polarized modern world, the lessons of that time and place continue to resonate and, sadly, remain crucially relevant in our own.
Yet, A Special Day is not a history lesson; it is so much more than its themes or pedagogic content. First and foremost, this is a work of cinematic art. It is a beautiful, entrancing story, featuring great performances by great actors, solid direction and wonderfully evocative cinematography. In short, it is a classic. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?
1 hour 47 minutes
Grade: A
Available streaming – free with subscription to The Criterion Channel, Fubo and DirectTV; or to rent (approx. $3.99) from Amazon, Apple, Google Play, YouTube, Vudu and other services.
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