Il Postino

Il Postino (The Postman) (1995), directed by Michael Radford

How do outward events influence film? Certainly the fact that Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor were married gave an added dimension to Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? The eerie parallels between Gloria Swanson and Norma Desmond strengthen Sunset Boulevard. And you can't help but think about Massimo Troisi when watching Il Postino. This beloved Italian actor suffered from a heart ailment while making this film. He could have abandoned the production to get a heart transplant, but he stayed until the film was finished: it was a labor of love for him. As probably everyone knows by now, he died within hours of finishing the film.

Troisi's death adds an unbearable level of poignance to an already poignant film. When we see the face of Mario Ruoppolo (Troisi) we see the face of a man thoroughly worn down by life. Despite everything, however, we see his eyes smiling wistfully, enjoying what is left of life.

Il Postino is one of the most beloved films of recent years, which became, via word of mouth, the highest-grossing foreign-language film in US history. The simply story of an assistant postman who befriends exiled Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, and falls in love with a serving wench should not be as moving as it is, nor as accessible to Americans.

That it is brings up an interesting point: foreign films are foreign not only in language, but in film idiom. Russian and Japanese film, for instance, depend on long shots and long takes: German film often has a less-focused narrative, Italian film uses unfamiliar symbols and imagery (these are broad generalizations: sorry). Il Postino, however, was directed by an Englishman, Michael Radford: this film seems very American, only the language is different.

Radford's cameras concentrate on the lively, very human faces of the actors, particularly the leads, Troisi and Philippe Noiret. Nothing makes us in the audience smile more than when Noiret's Neruda visibly recognizes the quality of Mario's poetry, or wehn Mario discovers that he just created a metaphor.

Poetry is the center of this film: actual poetry in the beginning, the poetry of human relationship in the end. Many have criticized the film's ending, but I find it inevitable. I ask you: can you think of a better ending? I thought not.

Troisi creates a wonderfully vivid character, one that justly received recognition, even if he had to die to do it. Philippe Noiret, even dubbed, is also very fine. Luis Enrique Bacalov won an Oscar (and deservedly so) for his haunting score, one that utterly captures the tone of the film.

It is just about perfect. It almost hurts just to think about it. It is suitable for all ages (nothing offensive at all), but I consider it to be the best adult film of 1995.

One final note: isn't it curious that this film, the story of the travails of a pair of communists could be so widely accepted here?