After the crying fiasco of PINOCCHIO (2002), it is conceivable that Roberto Benigni's next film, THE TIGER AND THE SNOW gingerly recollects a familiar thematic tack from LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL (1997), melding an amplified ode to love against a war-inflicted backdrop, and garnishing it with a plethora of poetry in the recipe.
Opening with a celestial wedding ceremony between Attilio de Giovanni (Benigni) and Vittoria (Braschi), with a humble Tom Waits humming the infectious YOU CAN NEVER HOLD BACK SPRING, this surreal dream sequence will recur many times with slight variations to indicate Attilio's undying affection for her, also with a sly cue to the film's well-kept secret. In reality, Attilio is a literature professor, a divorcé with two adolescent daughters, hounding Vittoria with amour fou, after a botched date, next thing we know, Vittoria is wounded in Baghdad during the ongoing Iraq War, and the narrative concisely spirits Attilio away to the war zone where he touches base with his old friend Fuad (Reno), a poet who returns to his fatherland after years living abroad, and is experiencing his own identity crisis in the face of deep disillusion and lament, which Attilio is too preoccupied to notice before it is irremediable, an emotional punch that comes off as an offhand reprimand on a man's preference swayed by his subliminal sexual impulse.
"Concise" is possibly a misnomer whether one has the stomach for Benigni's interminable wittering, not just about poetry and probably a symptom of compulsive hyperactivity, which has become Benigni's cinema alter ego (with varying degrees of the said symptom). However, what brings home in the story's "sleeping beauty" scenario, when Attilio tends to a comatose Vittoria inside a mangy Iraqi hospital, trying everything to keep her on this side of the world against a ticking clock, is the ultimate bona-fides of one's love, all in its purity and altruism, and Benigni confers it with a romantic spin which actually works even to some dry-eyed souls, it is saccharine, but still within the palatable boundary.
Numerous vignettes in Baghdad range from earnest (seeking help from an elderly pharmacist), farcical (a camel and its bad breath) to topically nerve-wracking (encountering a team of nervy, trigger-happy American soldiers) or somewhere between (the minefield incident for instance), anti-war message is duly purveyed but doesn't elicit the same catharsis as in LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL mostly because of the blasé structure and curt tonal shifts.
But, Benigni bequeaths us one last reveal near the finish-line when the true relationship between Attilio and Vittoria surfaces up, which encourages viewers to construe the entire movie as a radical redemption of a cheating husband, earning forgiveness from his ex-wife, with whom he is still very much in love and Vittoria's final realization is a brilliant touch, and given that a tiger and (ersatz) snow literally materialize concurrently in a prior sequence, the film reaches a satisfyingly poetic ending, if we bear in mind that Benigni has been on hiatus as a film director ever since (with only one acting job after), Attilio's exit scene could also providentially mark the valediction of Benigni's enduring screen avatar, loopy, puckish, importunate, and above all, incorrigibly romantic.
Opening with a celestial wedding ceremony between Attilio de Giovanni (Benigni) and Vittoria (Braschi), with a humble Tom Waits humming the infectious YOU CAN NEVER HOLD BACK SPRING, this surreal dream sequence will recur many times with slight variations to indicate Attilio's undying affection for her, also with a sly cue to the film's well-kept secret. In reality, Attilio is a literature professor, a divorcé with two adolescent daughters, hounding Vittoria with amour fou, after a botched date, next thing we know, Vittoria is wounded in Baghdad during the ongoing Iraq War, and the narrative concisely spirits Attilio away to the war zone where he touches base with his old friend Fuad (Reno), a poet who returns to his fatherland after years living abroad, and is experiencing his own identity crisis in the face of deep disillusion and lament, which Attilio is too preoccupied to notice before it is irremediable, an emotional punch that comes off as an offhand reprimand on a man's preference swayed by his subliminal sexual impulse.
"Concise" is possibly a misnomer whether one has the stomach for Benigni's interminable wittering, not just about poetry and probably a symptom of compulsive hyperactivity, which has become Benigni's cinema alter ego (with varying degrees of the said symptom). However, what brings home in the story's "sleeping beauty" scenario, when Attilio tends to a comatose Vittoria inside a mangy Iraqi hospital, trying everything to keep her on this side of the world against a ticking clock, is the ultimate bona-fides of one's love, all in its purity and altruism, and Benigni confers it with a romantic spin which actually works even to some dry-eyed souls, it is saccharine, but still within the palatable boundary.
Numerous vignettes in Baghdad range from earnest (seeking help from an elderly pharmacist), farcical (a camel and its bad breath) to topically nerve-wracking (encountering a team of nervy, trigger-happy American soldiers) or somewhere between (the minefield incident for instance), anti-war message is duly purveyed but doesn't elicit the same catharsis as in LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL mostly because of the blasé structure and curt tonal shifts.
But, Benigni bequeaths us one last reveal near the finish-line when the true relationship between Attilio and Vittoria surfaces up, which encourages viewers to construe the entire movie as a radical redemption of a cheating husband, earning forgiveness from his ex-wife, with whom he is still very much in love and Vittoria's final realization is a brilliant touch, and given that a tiger and (ersatz) snow literally materialize concurrently in a prior sequence, the film reaches a satisfyingly poetic ending, if we bear in mind that Benigni has been on hiatus as a film director ever since (with only one acting job after), Attilio's exit scene could also providentially mark the valediction of Benigni's enduring screen avatar, loopy, puckish, importunate, and above all, incorrigibly romantic.