Final Rating: 3/5
In the first seconds of Luchino Visconti’s Le Notti Blanche, we see a man and a woman talking by a bridge over the canals. Natalia (Maria Schell) and Mario (Marcello Mastroianni) converse about their sadness; she is utterly depressed about the situation with a lover, and he is curious about her words.
Despite the imagery of a post-war Italy, reminiscent of the late period of Italian neorealism, an era when names like Vittorio De Sica and Roberto Rossellini became titans of the art form, the young generation worked with those geniuses and became references in cinema. Visconti, Fellini, and Antonioni, to cite a few, are not thought of immediately when we talk about that era. Yet, their œuvre began during the moment of reconstruction of the country after the fascist regime.
In this sense, Le Notti Blanche (White Nights) looks more like a neorealist film rather than an adaptation of the book of the same name by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Co-written by the director and Suso Cecchi d’Amico, one of the most prominent and important screenwriters of the 1900s, responsible for films like The Bicycle Thieves, The Leopard, Rocco and His Brothers, and Miracle in Milan, among others, the film utilizes the story of the Russian author in a mid-1950s Italian setting.
In the short but relevant and impactful book, Dostoevsky narrates four encounters between a man and a woman, both of whom are suffering for love. Known as one of his shortest and arguably easiest to read, in contrast to the density of “The Idiot”, and “Crime and Punishment”, among others, the brilliance of White Nights lies in its simplicity: the complicated attachment between two individuals who fall in love, even if they love someone else. D’Amico and Visconti craft a love story in the Italian manner.
Visconti, whose more acclaimed works were released later, such as The Leopard, which is the adaptation of another classic (“Il Gattopardo” by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa), constructs his film almost as a theater play. The director opts for horizontal shots, which frame the couple and the architectural features of the bridge in the same shot.
This creates the camera perspective that moves briefly, especially when it goes to the lady’s house, which is utterly important for the story; it is the setting for the passion between her and the house’s tenant. It is a film that is visually very similar to the other entries of the Italian cinema at that time, mostly because it was the turmoil of neorealism until the new generation broke it, including Visconti with Leopard and Rocco and His Brothers.
As a singular film, there is not much to expand on Le Notti Blanche; it is a work that is a tad timid in its core. The great Marcelo Mastroianni delivers a performance similar to most of his roles, boosted by the quality of the material. Maria Schell provides a fascinating performance as a woman on the verge of a romantic breakdown; love has made her sick.
As an adaptation of the Dostoevsky book, it suffers in comparison to Robert Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer, which has been restored recently and praised for its fascinating construction of the classical story. Visconti provides a better adaptation in the 1963 film The Leopard, which became his magnum opus and is frequently cited as an honorable adaptation.
Finally, Le Notti Blanche has its moments with the performance by Maria Schell, and as a demonstration of the shift of Italian filmmakers from neorealism to other approaches to filmmaking. Still, compared to other adaptations of the same source, The White Nights, it lands as an underwhelming entry.
Thank you to Janus Films and Cinetic Media for the screener.
