Umberto D. marks a turning point in the career of director Vittorio De Sica. After being showered with awards for his critically acclaimed Shoe-Shine (1946) and The Bicycle Thief (1948), both devastating accounts of poverty in postwar Italy, the world renown Italian icon of neo-realism met resounding box office failure with his 1951 release of Umberto D. Apparently tired of depressing postwar depictions, Italian audiences wanted lighter fare, and De Sica's film didn't gain critical recognition until it reached U.S. distribution nearly five years later. Unable to combat market forces, De Sica returned to making comedies and light drama for the next twenty years, becoming one of Italy's most popular directors. But most of those films are hardly recognized by U.S. movie buffs that are much more inclined to watch De Sica’s melancholy neo-realistic works.

It's not that De Sica’s 1951 film was no longer relevant that turned off Italian audiences at the time. Ironically, Umberto D. depicts the very challenges his own father was facing as a retired worker who could barely survive on the government pension. De Sica dedicates the film to his father.

Opening with an overhead shot of a major Rome avenue, Umberto Domenico Ferrari (Carlo Battisti) joins a large group of protesting pensioners seeking increased benefits. The protest doesn't get far--the police turn them away and into disarray for failing to obtain a parade permit (which they couldn't get even if they tried navigating through Italian bureaucracy). Umberto is desperate. Without family and friends, his meager pension has left him in debt, and he can't even afford to buy food for his loyal and lovable small dog, Flike. Note early where Umberto sneaks his soup kitchen rations under the table to illegally feed Flike--it's obviously not the first time he's done so.

Even more threatening is his greedy landlady, who often rents out his room by the hour to illicit lovers or prostitutes. Umberto’s rent is in arrears, and she demands that he pay up by month’s end or face eviction. His fixed income is no match for living expenses, so Umberto does what he can to survive—selling his cheap watch and dwindling possessions and faking illness to spend a day at the hospital under the auspices of Catholic charity. After observing a fellow pensioner “earn” extra income through panhandling, Umberto gives it a try in one of the film's most poignant and subtly humorous scenes. In front of Rome’s ancient Pantheon Umberto attempts to hold out his palm to beg, but he is far too self-conscious and proud to do so, pulling it back at the last minute when a potential benefactor approaches. He then prompts his dog to hold his hat for collection purposes, but can't bring himself to carry out the plan. What alternatives does the old man have?

Facing eviction and without close family ties, Umberto naturally contemplates suicide, and De Sica's unhurried camera leads the audience to that logical conclusion by allowing us inside Umberto’s mind. We look at the passing train beneath his apartment and recognize these thoughts inside his empty gaze. That's where Flike takes center stage, for the dog remains Umberto's last connection to this world. Many of the film's most compelling shots derive from his efforts to board Flike, give him away, and face his final denouement--a classic case where the scene stealing dog dominates the film's last stages.

As important as the dog is, the two leading actors give Umberto D. its natural and compelling tone. Both are nonprofessionals, in the truest sense of Italian neo-realism. They are cast strictly for their appearance and internal character, inadvertently discovered by De Sica. (Rome must rank high in this area, as Fellini once stated that he often populated his films with people he'd meet in the subway) Playing the lead character is 70-year-old Carlo Battisti, a University of Florence professor of comparative philology that De Sica encountered on the way to a lecture in Rome. Battisti had great difficulty remembering his lines, but the film performance enhances the believability of the pensioner's desperate situation. Although Battisti was a one-film wonder, not so with Maria-Pia Casilio), who plays the mostly upbeat supportive maid Maria. Casilio had never even seen a film before encountering De Sica in a large casting call (that she only attended to give her friend company), but she went on to an extensive acting career following this striking debut.

Casilio has one of the film's most striking sequences in a long silent coffee-grinding scene. Set as a lively contrast to Umberto, the wide-eyed fifteen year old maid is pregnant to one of two soldiers--a tall one from Naples or a short one from Florence. Neither man will acknowledge his paternity, and the snobbish landlady will certainly turn Marie loose on the street as soon as she realizes that she's pregnant. Despite facing inevitable eviction herself, Maria puts on a cheerful front, particularly for the pitiful Umberto. However, she absolutely nails this silent scene, staring blankly while grinding the beans as tears gently stream down her face. Note: the young actress rejected the usual tricks of using cut onions, telling the crew that she’d manage by thinking of a sad time.

Thankfully, The Criterion Collection now offers a definitive DVD version of this hard to find film, complete with a significant Italian language documentary (English sub-titled) overview of De Sica's acting and directing career and a modern day interview with Maria-Pia Casilio that contributes insight into De Sica’s directing techniques.

Many scholars mark this as the last "true" neo-realistic film from the era, with Italian audiences beginning to seek refuge in romantic comedies with familiar actors. Although The Bicycle Thief will likely remain atop critical polls as the supreme example of Italian neo-realism, in many ways Umberto D. tells stronger and longer lasting truths. The personal film is certainly relatable and universal since most will face parallel situations as they grow older. As Thoreau states, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation," and this serene little film seduces the audience powerfully, as its ordinary old protagonist attempts to face his final days with dignity.