Federico Fellini’s La Strada (1954) is something of a magical fable revolving around picturesque carnival performers traveling in Italy. It is also a classic road film, literally, since “La Strada” means "the road." It is a tragedy, but, in the end, it is more up-lifting and exhilarating than depressing. In my opinion, it is superior to Fellini’s more famous film, La Dolce Vita (1960), and the equal of the great film Amarcord (1974).

Historical Context: La Strada is of embryonic importance to Fellini's oeuvre. It was the first truly “Felliniesque” film. It marked Fellini’s transition from neorealism (which had dominated postwar Italian cinema for almost a decade) to more universal human and spiritual themes. Fellini took a lot of heat, when La Strada appeared in theaters, from the Italian left wing that supported social realism and the preeminent influence of social classes in determining reality. Fellini was accused of betraying the cause. Nevertheless, La Strada secured Fellini’s international reputation and in America won the Academy Award in 1956 for Best Foreign Film. While some of Fellini’s later work is marred, in my view, by his precipitous slide into the abyss of excessive self-indulgence, La Strada is fresh and original and free of the director’s later excesses of ego.

The Story: The story begins on a beautiful sandy beach where water, sky, and sand all seem to stretch into eternity. There we see the diminutive figure of Gelsomina (Giulietta Masina) walking in solitude. Gelsomina is a simple and dim-witted girl who nevertheless possesses a keen wonderment and appreciation of the beauties of nature. She is a daughter in a large fatherless family. Her mother is barely able to feed them all; money and fewer mouths to feed are the family necessities. This is the day when Gelsomina will be sold by her mother for 10,000 lire to a man named Zampanò. Her eldest sister, Rosa, had been previously sold to Zampanò and had died in his care (we never learn why or how), so Gelsomina’s future seems precarious indeed.

Zampanò (Anthony Quinn) is a coarse and beastly kind of man. He makes his living as a strongman, touring Italy to participate in carnivals and circuses. His pathetic act consists of breaking a chain by expanding his chest muscles, while blustering about how he might go blind or how blood might start gushing because of the danger inherent in this great deed. Although Zampanò clearly has more “street savvy” than the innocent Gelsomina, he is only marginally more intelligent. Worse, he is bitter and cynical and largely insensitive to his own nature or the universe that he inhabits. He is something of a one trick pony and one imagines that he long ago memorized the absurd patter that accompanies his act, probably having been taught it by some long-forgotten carnival barker.

Zampanò and Gelsomina travel together in a beat-up wagon pulled by a motorcycle. Zampanò treats Gelsomina badly, though it seems more from ignorance than conscious maliciousness. He is a brutish man who behaves like a canine and treats her like one as well. He needs an assistant and trains her to the task like one might train a dog. She learns to parade around in a clown outfit, beat the drum, play Zampanò's theme song on the trumpet, and to pass the hat. He abuses her physically and sexually, hitting her with a stick when she makes errors in her performance routine, berating her verbally, and forcing her to satisfy his sexual needs. Yet, what seems hardest for Gelsomina is his doltish insensitivity to both love and beauty. He exhibits no feelings for either people or the natural world. He seems to exist only to meet his own daily needs for food, sleep, and sex.

Despite his cruelty and insensitivity, Gelsomina is loyal to Zampanò and naïvely views him as a true artist and as her protector. In truth, she is protected more by her own limited intelligence and childlike innocence. Her bond to him is not so much like that of a battered woman to an abusive husband as that of a dog in a pack to the dominant pack leader. Lest there be any doubt about the feral nature of their relationship, Fellini drives home the comparison in one scene, after their performance at a wedding, when Gelsomina is seen competing with the family’s dogs for crumbs off the floor. Although Zampanò calls her his wife for show purposes during his performances, he evades discussing marriage with her when she inquires. On one occasion, he even flirts with a buxom woman right in front of Gelsomina and later unceremoniously dumps her by the side of the road so he can spend the night with his conquest. When Gelsomina tries vainly to communicate tenderly with him, he cuts her off and says that he wants to sleep. Later, however, when she is asleep, we see an exceptional glimpse of affectionate behavior from Zampanò, when he pulls the covers up over her. We thus learn that part of his mean exterior is that old macho fallacy that any sign of humanity or affection will appear to be weakness. Zampanò may actually have some crude capacity to feel, "but he can't say it because he's like a dog and just barks" (as it is later put by another character).

The dysfunctional relationship between Zampanò and Gelsomina is further destabilized when they encounter the Fool (Richard Basehart), at one of their stops. The Fool is a flamboyant high-wire artist who performs wearing wings and tights. He is witty but rude as well as a comedian and sensitive violinist. Gelsomina is immediately attracted to him because he possesses all the awareness and joie de vie that Zampanò is lacking. His joie de vie, however, is really more of a devil-may-care irreverence. He has a sadistic streak and uses his intelligence to mock Zampanò. The Fool and Zampanò are a complete mismatch, since one possesses all of the advantage of wit and the other all the physical superiority. Zampanò is taunted into attacking the Fool and is thrown into jail as a result. With Zampanò in jail, Gelsomina is alone and the circus offers to take her with them. The Fool inadvertently convinces her to stay and wait for Zampanò when he explains to her, "Everything in this world is good for something. Take . . . this stone, for example." She asks, “What's it good for?” The fool then adds, "I don't know . . . but it certainly has its use. If it were useless, then everything would be useless -- even the stars." Gelsomina sees a parallel between the stone and Zampanò – both are unaware of the world in which they exist. She knows that if she leaves him he will have no one. She decides to wait loyally for Zampanò. When he is released, they leave together.

On the road, later, they encounter the Fool and, in an altercation, Zampanò unintentionally kills him and then unceremoniously disposes of his body. This proves too much for Gelsomina’s fragile psyche and she becomes increasingly depressed. Zampanò abandons her on the side of the road while she is sleeping. Many weeks later, Zampanò regretfully searches for her but learns that she has gone mad. The film concludes with Zampanò sitting at night on a desolate beach staring out at the sea, feeling regret and realizing, perhaps for the first time, that he had something precious. Like many Fellini characters to follow, he has foolishly turned away from love and understanding out of restless preoccupation with selfish daily needs.


Themes: Each of the three principal characters is archetypal. The Fool is the embodiment of the clever mind, Zampanò represents a well-developed body, and Gelsomina embodies human spirit and aesthetic sensitivity. Since an artist’s job is to engage the audience with the human spirit and the aesthetic, it comes as no surprise that Gelsomina is the most sympathetic of the three characters. La Strada is a forceful reminder that existence lacking any one of these three elements is incomplete and tenuous.

In La Strada, as in so many of his films, Fellini resorts to his hallmark assortment of images, for both visual and symbolic purposes. We see here circuses and parades with their richness of color and movement. In the Fool on the tightrope, we see the classic Fellini symbol of a human figure suspended between the earth and the eternal universe. In Gelsomina, we see the Fellini elf-like woman, full of innocent wonderment. Then also, we see here, as in other Fellini films, the sea as the symbol of the timeless universe. Fittingly, La Strada both begins and ends at the seashore, as life (in birth and death) both begins and ends in unity with the eternal. Gelsomina’s capacity to touch the essence of the universe, depicted in the opening scene, has been transferred in some small measure to Zampanò, despite his brutish resistance.

Production Values: Guilietta Masina, who was Fellini's wife, delivers an inspired performance as Gelsomina. Playing a character of limited intelligence, she gets scant dialogue and must reveal her character mainly by physical performance: with her gestures, movements, and facial expressions. What she provides, with her saucer-shaped eyes, sad face, and baggy clothes, is reminiscent of Chaplin. Like a silent clown, she evokes both sympathy and pathos. Her face is the image that most endures in the mind’s eye after watching this film Masina starred in several of her husband’s films, including Juliet of the Spirits (1965) and Ginger and Fred (1986), basically playing the same character each time, but in La Strada, Masina steals the show.

Quinn's performance is quite outstanding as well, although it naturally doesn't elicit the sympathy that Masina does. His role is made all the more difficult because the audience has to dislike him for most of the film and yet sympathize enough with the limitations of his basic nature to appreciate the significance of that final small glimpse of meaning that he musters in the end. Anthony Quinn had a distinguished career that included such films as The Ox-Bow Incident (1943), The Guns of Navarone (1961), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Requiem for a Heavyweight (1962), and Zorba the Greek (1964).

Nino Rota provided a musical score for La Strada that is both distinctive and moving. A longtime collaborator of Fellini, Rota integrated circus music, wailful accordian and saxophone music, and popular songs.

Bottom-Line: La Strada is often said to be the most accessible Fellini film, by which tactic reviewers seemingly imply that his later films are really better but require a more sophisticated palate. In my opinion, it’s simpler than that: among Fellini’s later films, only Amarcord is comparably exhilarating and poetic. The film was lovingly restored by Martin Scorsese, who particularly admired the film because its resolution implies that human spirit overcomes brute force. Fellini was honored in 1993, shortly before his death, by a special career Oscar, with his wife and lifelong collaborator sitting tearfully in the audience.

La Strada is in Italian with English subtitles. The DVD provides several worthwhile extras although they come at the added cost of a two DVD set. The extras include a Fellini autobiographical piece, an audio commentary by Peter Bondanella (who is a Fellini scholar and author of The Cinema of Federico Fellini), and an essay by Peter Mathews. I enthusiastically recommend this film for anyone wanting an introduction to Fellini’s work as well as those simply seeking a worthwhile viewing experience.

Recommended:
Yes

Video Occasion: Good for a Rainy Day
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age