Luchino Visconti between neorealism and artifice, literally -- the Cinecitta satire is situated between La Terra Trema and Senso, a foundation for La Signora Senza Camelie, Lo Sceicco Bianco, Hollywood or Bust, et al. Cesare Zavattini's original conception is little-people patronizing, though the tone remains subtly operatic from the beginning, an orchestra rehearsal, disproportionately lavish, swelling for the radio spot advertising a bambina cattle-call. Cue the tumult outside the studio, and Anna Magnani in long-shot, no less overpowering than in close-up, searching for her pea-sized daughter (Tina Apicella); fame and the cinema are Mamma's grand passions, and maestro Alessandro Blasetti (playing himself) is picking the star for his next flick. "What's acting, really," Magnani asks in front of a mirror, and, like all stage mothers, she is the one craving the spotlight, bulldozing through photography offices and dancing studios with Apicella by the hand when not catching an outdoor showing of Red River. Hardly a "minor anomaly" in the Visconti oeuvre, the film surveys the medium itself for his beloved clash between illusion and reality -- gesticulating neighbors in the balconies offer spectacles to match the screen's, yet victims of cinema cram the narrative, from an elderly actress (Tecla Scarano) painted in silent-movie pancake to the former starlet now sent down to the editing department. However, it's pretty much The Anna Magnani Show all the way, with the robustly milfy actress essaying one cyclonic outpour after another -- amid a titanic shouting match, Magnani unchains the sobs to clear the air, only to segue into guffaws and song moments later, hugging Apicella. Watching her daughter's disastrous screening test in the projectionist's booth, she adjusts her gaze into a wounded laser at the guys cackling below, and Visconti keeps his camera close, recording raptly. Zavattini may prefer the humbled heroine at home with her long-suffering hubby (Gastone Renzelli), although Visconti understands the charged theatricality of ordinary life, as long as Magnani is hogging the camera. Visconti, Suso Cecchi d'Amico, and Francesco Rosi contributed to the screenplay. With Walter Chiari. In black and white.
--- Fernando F. Croce
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