Classic Review: Journey to Italy

Journey to Italy (1954) is the most famous of Roberto Rossellini’s post-neorealist drama films, in which Ingrid Bergman frequently appears. This element of stardom, coupled with the English Language in this feature, could mark a significant shift from the director’s earlier style and production choices, which are characterised by on-location filmmaking and the use of unknown actors. Surprisingly, Rossellini defies this, beginning his film with camera movements loose and energetic.

His camera is always observational, and he appears to frame images contrary to standard filmic expression, often foregrounding minor characters or those who have less dialogue in a scene. This comes to emphasise the tragically passive-aggressive relationship of the two leads as we search the frame for the always-irritated faces of the party who is being insulted. It is as if we are somehow aligned with the aggressor, and in a way, we are, because this term applies to both characters, who take it in turns to insult each other.

It is simply a film about a couple (portrayed by Ingrid Bergman and George Sanders) coming to terms with the failings of their marriage through a fairly standard trip to Italy. The storytelling is meandering and occasionally mundane, perhaps anchored by the fracturing of the couple and Rossellini’s brilliant and varied direction in the two different stories. I found myself enjoying the Bergman portion far more, as Rossellini’s documentary-like aesthetic perfectly undercuts the severe emotion of the film, allowing us to simply disappear into the brilliant locations of Capri, Naples, and Pompeii. It is a testament to his direction that Rossellini understands when a location can speak for itself, and it’s an utter pleasure to watch Bergman navigate through one of the most beautiful countries in the world. It is important to note that her performance is amazingly subtle, and I’m sure that there are many nuances to revisit, perfectly manufactured by the dynamic of hidden spite beneath the guise of a healthy relationship.  

The camera sometimes departs from the more objective lens to display the grandeur of the landscapes in Italy, but more often the architecture. In one scene, Ingrid Bergman’s character is astounded by some Ancient Roman statues, which appear to echo the romanticism of her worldview, but also of a former love interest who was a poet. There are repeated details like this that do suggest the couple’s incompatibility, which makes the ending feel all the more disappointing in its rather Hollywood attitude in ignoring these details. The intimidating brilliance of the statues are accentuated by the use of high-angles that dwarf Bergman in the frame.

Like Citizen Kane before it, these items of grandeur come to represent these memories; all of us carry regrets with us. Perhaps the most powerful element of the film is the recognition of the fact that these things are inevitable, but also not as important as current concerns. Akin to this, the early frenetic camera movements in the film as we are zoomed along roads, (almost mirroring Godard’s Breathless in its youthful energy) are carried throughout. Oftentimes, the camera pans, imitating the movement of Bergman’s head as she tries to hold her gaze on relationships and events that are obscured out of view as she drives past. There is always a sense of this ‘Journey’ in the film – always underscored by the notion that this movement must come to a close; the couple must meet again. When they do, it is abrupt, but beautiful.