The story concerns Jane Hudson, a middle-aged woman from Ohio who has come to Italy to have an adventure for the first time in her life. She's never been married, and you quickly get the sense that her life has always been rather loveless. She's always been an observer, not a participant, in life, and that approach continues even after she arrives in Venice. You can tell this by the numerous moments in the film where she's filming with her little personal camera. She's enchanted by the city, of course, but even in Venice, she's surrounded by people in love and that just makes her feel even lonelier. She is an outsider, a "third wheel," even among the American tourists she encounters.
Jane is played by Hepburn, who gives what I would consider the greatest performance of her career. In fact, it's one of the greatest performances, by a woman or a man, on film I've ever seen. She allows us to see Jane's emotions so very clearly, and we readily empathize with her, perhaps especially if we've ever felt like we were not attractive enough to find someone to love us. And I do think most of us have felt that way at some point in our lives.
Jane's trip changes, of course, when she meets Renato, an antiques dealer, who is played by one of the best looking men in the movies. (Brazzi was perhaps not the most talented actor, but man, was he a looker.) Their first encounter is a lovely moment. They are at separate tables in St. Mark's Plaza, and she notices him looking at her. They eventually strike up a conversation, and he vows to show her Venice. Reluctantly, she agrees, but it takes her a while to allow herself to become open to the possibility of love with this handsome Italian who seems devoted to making her feel special and beautiful. What follows is a series of scenes depicting romantic moments the likes of which Hollywood has never been able to duplicate. What passes for romance nowadays is a pale imitation of what filmmakers in the past could accomplish.
However, this being a romance, you know there must be a complication. Renato is, of course, married. I realize that some readers might think that constitutes a spoiler, but the movie's been out since 1955, and I honestly don't think that knowing that piece of information could possibly ruin the movie for a new viewer. It certainly isn't the ending of the film, which I won't spoil. The conventions of a romantic movie, even one from more than fifty years ago, were already well established.
Jane, naturally, is incensed by Renato's infidelity. She feels betrayed because she has let down her defenses only to have someone misrepresent the nature of their relationship. She accuses him of not being serious about romance the way that Americans are. He accuses her and other Americans of not fully appreciating what love has to offer. He then makes an astonishing statement: "You are like a hungry child who is given ravioli to eat. 'No," you say. 'I want beefsteak.' My dear girl, you are hungry. Eat the ravioli." I'm sure the metaphor isn't too difficult to comprehend. When I posted that quote on Facebook a few months ago, along with a picture from the film, it generated quite an interesting discussion, most of it from female friends who were talking about the gender implications of that statement. I realize that it's certainly a product of its time period, and it demonstrates quite clearly the distinctions between men's and women's expectations back then. However, I couldn't have imagined that a movie from so long ago could stir up so many emotions.
As you probably have already guessed, she does "eat the ravioli," so to speak. However, other than a rather intense kiss, the movie doesn't show much else of their sexual union. Instead, you get a close-up of one of Jane's shoes. It's quite the symbol, full of Cinderella connotations. I know that if this film were to be made today, the scene that follows would be very graphic, but it would lose that delicacy that we once had in the movies. As much as I enjoy current movies, we did lose something by becoming more "realistic."
What I perhaps most love about the film is how much you yearn for Jane and Renato to become lovers. We want to see them happy, and we start to believe that they truly might be soul mates. That must have been pretty radical for a 1950s audience, to root for infidelity. I've not read all of the reviews from that time period, but I'm certain there was criticism of that theme, criticism of the characters' "irresponsible" behavior. What helps an audience overcome its resistance, though, is the star power of the performers. It's a testament to Hepburn's particular talent that she shows us the change from Jane's intense and confining lifelong sadness at the beginning of the film to the relaxed and beautiful posture of a woman who has perhaps fallen in love for the first time in her life. It's quite a remarkable transformation.
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