The "Holy" Quintet and Its 6th Member

Who comes to your mind when you think about Italian cinema of the 20th century? If you said Adriano Celentano, I'm genuinely happy for you. But what if we think of someone older? You can name Fellini and his La Dolce Vita (1960). If you prefer existentialism: Antonioni's L'Aventura (1960) or La Notte (1961). The list goes on: De Sica, Rossellini, and Pasolini. Those are the 'saints' of Italian Neorealism and its shift towards the Italian New Wave of the 1960s.

Why didn't I name Germi as the first one? Partly because I'm writing about his marginalized position, and partly because he really is overlooked by the many. Think about this: De Sica's Matrimonio all'italiana (1964), a critique of toxic masculinity portrayed by Mastroianni, is known as one of the greatest social dramas. Germi's Divorzio all'italiana (1961), also starring Mastroianni (poor guy), pushes the same themes of masculinity, honor, and hypocrisy — but with the humor so sharp you can hear the most prim audience gasp from shock while watching it.

One of The Neorealists

IMDB's list of «Major figures of Italian Neorealism» features only eight people. The top five are: Rossellini, De Sica, Zavattini, Visconti, and De Santis. Once again, Germi is not mentioned there, even though he was at the beginnings of the movement.

Why is he out? The issue may be in the difference of themes, maybe even in the difference of locations. Roma, città aperta (1945) is, of course, about Rome. Ladri di biciclette (1948) is also about Rome. Pietro Germi, born in Genoa, looked at the map of Italy and instead chose the island of Sicily.

And his choice was quite deliberate. Post-war Rome was the symbol of poverty, struggle, and reconstruction. Sicily was a bit different: a symbol of moral standards, honor, and the mafia, which Mussolini promised to suppress back in the day. Germi himself put it this way: «I dare to say that Sicily is Italy twice, in short, and all Italians are Sicilians, and Sicilians are simply more Italian.» The locals, as he shows them, are playing exactly the roles they are best at: grumpy, slightly aggressive, and suspicious to the people who were born more than one kilometer away from their village. With this approach Germi is free in capturing both the life of Sicily and the global issues of Italian society.

Location is Known, What About the Themes?

Now we have the stage, but as any toddler knows, there is no play without a plot. Germi's earliest films have the very same recurring idea: be a good man, just, morally impeccable, and — most importantly — have an honor code that everyone in the film will protest against. Il testimone (1949) can be summed up by only one word: guilt. The guilty man is freed by the deceived man; the deceived man feels guilt for being deceived and dies of it; the murderer feels guilt for lying and then confesses to his loved one out of guilt.

The same idea appears in In nome della legge (1949), his first truly Sicilian film, where morality and the honor code intersect with the power of dissatisfied masses. There, a young judge visits a small town to work, but conveniently enough for the viewers, the town is filled with mafia and angry locals who follow the same twisted idea of loyalty. In this film you can truly see the master of Germi's director skills. Crowded streets, tense gatherings that press both on the judge and the camera, and characters framed in such a way that Kurosawa would have been jealous. All of these visual details serve the same purpose: to show the individual agency vs. the collective brain and its expectations.

Pietro Germi is somewhat of a fatherly figure that at the same time acts as an observer. He is so fascinated by human behavior that he decides to replicate it and underline what is bad and what earns you the respect of the ones close to you. In nome della legge and Il testimone may be serious and noir-ish, but they already hint at that love for observing and punching up that would later define Germi's comedies.

Enough Seriousness, Time for the Laughs

Germi's later career (1960s) is mostly about playfulness (if scandals can ever be playful). That doesn't mean that his obsession with guilt and honor disappeared. They just shifted into being open satire so that you at least have fun while contemplating your life choices. In Divorzio all'italiana (1961), Sedotta e abbandonata (1964), and Signore & signori (1966), characters are no longer just victims of circumstances. Instead, they are active cells of this block that often willingly exaggerate their own hypocrisy.

Divorzio all'italiana spikes the codes of masculinity and honor while also making Mastroianni balance traditional values and modern styles of married life. In Sedotta e abbandonata, Germi points out the illogical patriarchal violence inside Sicilian families by making a tragic story more or less laughable. Signore & signori is about a small Italian town, where everyone, of course, gossips and behaves immorally to entertain the audience.

Of course, it's witty, but Germi never moved away from being serious. Every exaggerated gesture or sarcastic comment carries a deep weight of social critique. He still continues to observe the Italians but now with a lighter touch. Sicily is still both the location and the character: its traditions, codes of honor, and morals are still central, but now with the sunglasses of comedy. The difference is that Germi now filtered these heavy themes through laughs, creating humorous existentialism. Few of his contemporaries could do the same. After all, I cannot imagine Antonioni's L'avventura (1960) as a comedy.

The Great Pantheon Robbery

Why is it that when you ask a high schooler about his favorite Italian director, he's more likely to name Pasolini? Luciano Vincenzoni, who worked with Pietro Germi on Signore & signori (1966), had the answer: «He was not loved. […] And above all because in Italy they don't forgive success.» Germi had the audacity to be popular, critical, funny, and above all, successful in his family life (which is a cardinal sin in the film industry). Too mainstream for cinephiles, too 'thinking' for the mainstream: no wonder he ends up last on the list.

But behind all of this sarcasm and satire, there was something more personal. Germi once said: «I believe that I could not make a film without a deep sympathy and, I would say, love for the things I show.» That's what makes him different from other Italian directors. While Fellini was a dreamer, Antonioni a philosopher, and Pasolini a politician, Pietro Germi stayed with the people who actually watched his films: grumpy, hypocritical, but somehow lovable.

In the end, he's not on the top, not because he failed, but because he succeeded too well. An Oscar, a Palme d'Or, box office hits, and the audience loved him — what else could a director dream of? His filmography has a wide range of everything for any type of viewer. Call it a robbery, call him an underrated prophet, but chances are that Germi himself was perfectly fine with being an outsider.