Umberto D.
- Jun 17
- 2 min read
“Hello In There” is one of my favorite songs written by John Prine. It’s a melancholy portrait of an older, long-married couple whose golden years are far from golden. Their lives have been tarnished by loss and by feeling alone and forgotten. In his haunting refrain, Prine sings that every day, old people just grow lonesome, waiting for someone to say to them, “Hello in there.” It is a compassionate reminder that we should all practice.
Unable to pay his bills, Umberto teeters on the verge of hunger and of being homeless.
Perhaps nowhere in the history of movies has the plight of being an older person who feels invisible in the modern world been dramatized with such profound emotional depth as in the 1952 Italian film Umberto D. Directed by Vittorio De Sica and written by Cesare Zavattini, it is a touching masterpiece. The main character Umberto Domenico is a poor, retired civil servant, with no family. Unable to pay his bills, he teeters on the verge of hunger and of being homeless.
Yes, there are numerous great films that deal with the struggles of growing older and the inhumane treatment that many older people endure. But to me, Umberto D. is a special wonder. Just as he did in his other classic film Bicycle Thieves, De Sica cast non-professionals in many of the lead roles. The character of Umberto is played by a real-life retired professor that De Sica happened to pass on the street and thought that he had the ideal look for the part. This unpretentious approach to filmmaking, as well as the selection of the tragic subject matter, is one of the best examples of what was known as Italian neorealism, an unflinching style of moviemaking that illuminated the real-life political and economic hardships faced by everyday working people in post-World War II Europe.
And so, as Umberto wanders the streets of Rome, broke, hungry, and alone, he desperately clings to his dignity while struggling with the shame of having to ask anyone for a helping hand. It is a harrowing ordeal that, sadly, is still far too common in our world today. Fortunately, Umberto’s dog Flike is along to keep him company. Their love and devotion for each other aches with tenderness as Umberto’s story reaches a finale that is truly one of the most heart-stopping, emotional endings ever put on film.
I give Umberto D. four out of four stars. To paraphrase John Prine, watching it is like finding yourself inside the tired skin of a lonely, older person who just wishes that someone—anyone—would stop and say to them: “Hello in there.”
