Stromboli (1950)
July 31, 2024 11:56 PM - Subscribe
Karin, a young woman from the Baltic countries, marries fisherman Antonio to escape from a prison camp. But she cannot get used to the tough life in Antonio's volcano-threatened village, Stromboli.
Lithuanian Karin (Ingrid Bergman) flees her war-ravaged home country and winds up in Italy, where she's sent to an internment camp. There, she meets Antonio (Mario Vitale), a POW who's just been freed. They enjoy a brief romance, punctuated by Antonio's marriage proposal, and Karin, seeing her chance to escape the camp, accepts. But Antonio takes her back to Stromboli, the volcanic island he lives on, and Karin struggles with a language barrier, brutal living conditions and her outsider status.
Erin: Thus, due to her situation, Karin is a sympathetic figure — but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s particularly likable. “You have no modesty,” Antonio’s aunt tells her after three women silently reject her invitation to come inside her newly decorated house. It’s hard to deny that; in Karin’s constant insistence that she’s different from her new neighbors, there’s always an underlying implication that she’s superior to them, entitled to something better. Scoffing at Antonio’s meager savings, she says, “You need much more money for a woman like me.” She has moments of warmth and kindness — the aforementioned invitation to the trio of local women, for instance (though a desire to show off might be tied up in that), or her cheerful involvement in helping some children chase down an octopus — yet she’s also self-centered, haughty and prone to bad decisions. At one point, she even gets a bit too forward with the priest, the only person who seems to understand her. She and the natives of Stromboli literally and figuratively speak different languages, and the hard life and hostile land that many of them accept or love (though, to be fair, many others have left) is torment to her. It’s as if she’s gone from one prison to another.
Dina Iordanova: Stromboli shows a woman who is self-centered and independent and who, as a result, is more alone in a marriage than she would be if she were single. It asserts that a woman’s need for companionship and continuous emotional support may matter more than pecuniary maintenance or dogged loyalty.
Karin has hurriedly accepted a husband who is not her equal and now understands this may mean bearing the consequences for many dreaded years to come. She claims it is difficult to communicate with her spouse; his command of English is so limited, she says, that she must address him “like a child.” However, it is not about language. Even if they shared one, they would still not be able to connect. She is, supposedly, a complex and eloquent person. He is an inarticulate drudge, who may indeed be able to make a good point now and then, but there is no chance that they will ever converse meaningfully (“I am your wife, but I am not like you!”). Staying with this husband would prompt her to incessantly point out his deficiencies, while simultaneously knowing she was not being fair. Nothing is wrong with him; she is frustrated with herself (“I understand him, but who understands me? I am going mad, I am so unhappy”).
Nell Dodson Russell: Stromboli is the picture of a dissatisfied wife. The film gets off to a weak start, dawdles along to an anemic climax, comes to a shaky conclusion.
I left the theatre feeling as if I should at least get back the twenty per cent federal nuissance tax I'd paid on my ticket.
Stromboli has none of the artistic merits of Open City or Paisan, both Rossellini pictures. In spite of the advance newspaper ballyhoo which bills it as a story of 'raging passions," there is not a smack or smooch in the picture. When Bergman announces suddenly that she is three month's pregnant, one can't help but wonder if the feat were accomplished through mental telepathy. The night I saw the film, this scene was greeted with an outburst of knowing snickers from the less inhibited members of the audience.
The Berman performance in the picture is more convincing than those she has turned in for Hollywood, with the possible exception of Intermezzo.
Lithuanian Karin (Ingrid Bergman) flees her war-ravaged home country and winds up in Italy, where she's sent to an internment camp. There, she meets Antonio (Mario Vitale), a POW who's just been freed. They enjoy a brief romance, punctuated by Antonio's marriage proposal, and Karin, seeing her chance to escape the camp, accepts. But Antonio takes her back to Stromboli, the volcanic island he lives on, and Karin struggles with a language barrier, brutal living conditions and her outsider status.
Erin: Thus, due to her situation, Karin is a sympathetic figure — but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she’s particularly likable. “You have no modesty,” Antonio’s aunt tells her after three women silently reject her invitation to come inside her newly decorated house. It’s hard to deny that; in Karin’s constant insistence that she’s different from her new neighbors, there’s always an underlying implication that she’s superior to them, entitled to something better. Scoffing at Antonio’s meager savings, she says, “You need much more money for a woman like me.” She has moments of warmth and kindness — the aforementioned invitation to the trio of local women, for instance (though a desire to show off might be tied up in that), or her cheerful involvement in helping some children chase down an octopus — yet she’s also self-centered, haughty and prone to bad decisions. At one point, she even gets a bit too forward with the priest, the only person who seems to understand her. She and the natives of Stromboli literally and figuratively speak different languages, and the hard life and hostile land that many of them accept or love (though, to be fair, many others have left) is torment to her. It’s as if she’s gone from one prison to another.
Dina Iordanova: Stromboli shows a woman who is self-centered and independent and who, as a result, is more alone in a marriage than she would be if she were single. It asserts that a woman’s need for companionship and continuous emotional support may matter more than pecuniary maintenance or dogged loyalty.
Karin has hurriedly accepted a husband who is not her equal and now understands this may mean bearing the consequences for many dreaded years to come. She claims it is difficult to communicate with her spouse; his command of English is so limited, she says, that she must address him “like a child.” However, it is not about language. Even if they shared one, they would still not be able to connect. She is, supposedly, a complex and eloquent person. He is an inarticulate drudge, who may indeed be able to make a good point now and then, but there is no chance that they will ever converse meaningfully (“I am your wife, but I am not like you!”). Staying with this husband would prompt her to incessantly point out his deficiencies, while simultaneously knowing she was not being fair. Nothing is wrong with him; she is frustrated with herself (“I understand him, but who understands me? I am going mad, I am so unhappy”).
Nell Dodson Russell: Stromboli is the picture of a dissatisfied wife. The film gets off to a weak start, dawdles along to an anemic climax, comes to a shaky conclusion.
I left the theatre feeling as if I should at least get back the twenty per cent federal nuissance tax I'd paid on my ticket.
Stromboli has none of the artistic merits of Open City or Paisan, both Rossellini pictures. In spite of the advance newspaper ballyhoo which bills it as a story of 'raging passions," there is not a smack or smooch in the picture. When Bergman announces suddenly that she is three month's pregnant, one can't help but wonder if the feat were accomplished through mental telepathy. The night I saw the film, this scene was greeted with an outburst of knowing snickers from the less inhibited members of the audience.
The Berman performance in the picture is more convincing than those she has turned in for Hollywood, with the possible exception of Intermezzo.
the twenty per cent federal nuissance tax
TIL this was a thing. Crazy.
posted by phooky at 6:19 AM on August 1
TIL this was a thing. Crazy.
posted by phooky at 6:19 AM on August 1
Woody Guthrie wrote a song about this movie
OK maybe it's more about how he saw the movie and now he wants to have sex with Ingrid Bergman
posted by Harvey Kilobit at 10:31 PM on August 4
OK maybe it's more about how he saw the movie and now he wants to have sex with Ingrid Bergman
posted by Harvey Kilobit at 10:31 PM on August 4
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posted by Carillon at 11:58 PM on July 31