Film: Cinema Paradiso
Release date: 21st May 2001
Release date: 21st May 2001
Certificate: PG
Running time: 170 mins
Director: Giuseppe TornatoreStarring: Philippe Noiret, Enzo Cannavale, Antonella Attili, Isa Danieli, Leo Gullotta
Genre: Drama
Studio: Arrow
Format: DVD
Country: ItalyThe Cannes-storming masterwork from Giuseppe Tornatore is a heart-warming tale of a middle-aged man (played by real life filmmaker Jacques Perrin) who is compelled to re-visit his village when informed of the death of an old friend.
Toto, as we know him in short trousers, is a little boy with a keen eye for mischief. When an elderly projectionist by the name of Alfredo (a charming Philippe Noiret) takes a shine to him, a bond is formed over decades of love and war, with the power of cinema as the binding tie along a rocky road of plentiful peaks and troughs.
Along the way, he meets and loses the love of his life, eventually becoming a soldier in the army, and all the while searching for something that appears constantly elusive; still pining for the lost days and brighter times that so defined his early years - those bygone times spent operating the projector under the tutelage of a now blind and frail master…
Of course, it could be said that, once in a decade, there’s a film that comes along and restores your faith in cinema.Tarantino did it to the culture-shocked ‘90s with his censor-baiting, hip-as-anything slice of Pulp Fiction; Guillermo Del Toro tendered his own brand of mythological magic for the soulless, nihilistic ‘noughties’ with the majestic Pan’s Labyrinth, but Paradiso does something more.
The film speaks directly to anyone who’s had a passion in their lives; not just for cinema but for people, too – in fact, it is arguably a film about community, as much as it is cinema. Take, for example, when the dilapidated theatre comes down toward the end, an elder Toto looks around him to take in the larger community gathered in mourning. It is at this point, perhaps more than any other, when we realise, as Toto does, that this place was a planet, and the villagers, himself included, were all satellites. Its loss brings about a sharper reality: we aren’t getting any younger, something that is probably harder to take when you’ve grown up with images of youthful beauties stealing kisses from handsome cads up on the silver screen. It’s a heartbreaking scene, and the film has plenty more.
Make no mistake; this is a film where the relationship between fantasy and reality regularly comes into play. If you look at the young Toto, who has all his energies channelled into a love of fantasy and imagination, through to the teenaged Toto, whose primary goal is to experience ideal ‘love’ – very much like the kind he’s witnessed on screen, then finally the adult, middle-aged Toto: a film producer, whose job as a purveyor of fantasy is merely a natural extension of his childhood need for the extraordinary; something that keeps the child inside him in constant wonder as age slowly creeps in and takes a few good friends along the way.
It is, as usual, very easy to view the Director’s Cut as superior to the original theatrical version, mostly because the film feels all the more satisfying with the re-inserted scenes (for example, Toto’s final meeting with his teenage love Elena provides one of the most tense and tentative moments in the narrative), which give the film an air of grandiosity that lends greater credibility to the arcs of both Toto and Alfredo, as we witness their lives unfold.
Yes, a longer running time is something a lot of filmmakers are wary of, usually expecting the audience to leave the theatre before the credits roll, but here the emotional investment is so deep that, by the time the credits ‘have’ rolled, you can scarcely believe you’ve been sitting there for little under three hours. In fact, the film ends right where it ought to, as an adult Toto finds himself alone in his private screening room, away from the ruthless business end of his profession, and the projector begins to roll, Ennio Morricone’s beautiful score reaches its final peak, and the lost kisses of those youthful beauties and handsome cads fill the screen for one last time.
A delightful piece that can proudly sit amongst a very special breed of big, sprawling, emotional classics. It’ll have you weeping buckets, so have both them and a pack of tissues firmly at the ready, but it’s also one of the best of its kind in nailing that particular brand of love, admiration and appreciation born out of a special connection with the cinema. JPS
Toto, as we know him in short trousers, is a little boy with a keen eye for mischief. When an elderly projectionist by the name of Alfredo (a charming Philippe Noiret) takes a shine to him, a bond is formed over decades of love and war, with the power of cinema as the binding tie along a rocky road of plentiful peaks and troughs.
Along the way, he meets and loses the love of his life, eventually becoming a soldier in the army, and all the while searching for something that appears constantly elusive; still pining for the lost days and brighter times that so defined his early years - those bygone times spent operating the projector under the tutelage of a now blind and frail master…
Of course, it could be said that, once in a decade, there’s a film that comes along and restores your faith in cinema.Tarantino did it to the culture-shocked ‘90s with his censor-baiting, hip-as-anything slice of Pulp Fiction; Guillermo Del Toro tendered his own brand of mythological magic for the soulless, nihilistic ‘noughties’ with the majestic Pan’s Labyrinth, but Paradiso does something more.
The film speaks directly to anyone who’s had a passion in their lives; not just for cinema but for people, too – in fact, it is arguably a film about community, as much as it is cinema. Take, for example, when the dilapidated theatre comes down toward the end, an elder Toto looks around him to take in the larger community gathered in mourning. It is at this point, perhaps more than any other, when we realise, as Toto does, that this place was a planet, and the villagers, himself included, were all satellites. Its loss brings about a sharper reality: we aren’t getting any younger, something that is probably harder to take when you’ve grown up with images of youthful beauties stealing kisses from handsome cads up on the silver screen. It’s a heartbreaking scene, and the film has plenty more.
Make no mistake; this is a film where the relationship between fantasy and reality regularly comes into play. If you look at the young Toto, who has all his energies channelled into a love of fantasy and imagination, through to the teenaged Toto, whose primary goal is to experience ideal ‘love’ – very much like the kind he’s witnessed on screen, then finally the adult, middle-aged Toto: a film producer, whose job as a purveyor of fantasy is merely a natural extension of his childhood need for the extraordinary; something that keeps the child inside him in constant wonder as age slowly creeps in and takes a few good friends along the way.
It is, as usual, very easy to view the Director’s Cut as superior to the original theatrical version, mostly because the film feels all the more satisfying with the re-inserted scenes (for example, Toto’s final meeting with his teenage love Elena provides one of the most tense and tentative moments in the narrative), which give the film an air of grandiosity that lends greater credibility to the arcs of both Toto and Alfredo, as we witness their lives unfold.
Yes, a longer running time is something a lot of filmmakers are wary of, usually expecting the audience to leave the theatre before the credits roll, but here the emotional investment is so deep that, by the time the credits ‘have’ rolled, you can scarcely believe you’ve been sitting there for little under three hours. In fact, the film ends right where it ought to, as an adult Toto finds himself alone in his private screening room, away from the ruthless business end of his profession, and the projector begins to roll, Ennio Morricone’s beautiful score reaches its final peak, and the lost kisses of those youthful beauties and handsome cads fill the screen for one last time.
A delightful piece that can proudly sit amongst a very special breed of big, sprawling, emotional classics. It’ll have you weeping buckets, so have both them and a pack of tissues firmly at the ready, but it’s also one of the best of its kind in nailing that particular brand of love, admiration and appreciation born out of a special connection with the cinema. JPS
