Cinema Paradiso and Classical Hollywood Cinema

Cinema Paradiso recounts the life of Salvatore, a filmmaker looking back on the memories of his childhood, highlighting the time during which he fell in love with the movies at the local theater and formed a deep friendship with the theater projectionist, Alfredo. This film is interesting because it demonstrates the magic and power of the movies through a movie. Although the film drags on at times (the directors cut is 170 minutes and the international version is 123 minutes), the lasting themes of love, friendship, and youth make it worth sitting through.

Examining this film in relation to classical Hollywood cinema, I do not find that it conforms to the guidelines of classical Hollywood cinema. Classical Hollywood narration involves a particular set of standard options for representing the story and manipulating the composition and style, according to David Bordwell in his article, “Classical Hollywood Cinema: Narrational Principles and Procedures. Bordwell informs us that there is a specific formula that Hollywood screenplay-writing manuals emphasize- there should be four stages to the plot: an undisturbed stage, the disturbance, the struggle, and the elimination of the disturbance. Looking at Cinema Paradiso, there is no evidence of this format in use; in fact, there is not much conventional action that takes place at all. The viewer is engaged in the narrative not through action, but through the exploration of relationships, particularly that of Alfredo and Salvatore (a father-son-like relationship) and life and the movies. The film is largely driven not by any particular event but by using the device of the flashback. Opening the film in the present and then quickly jumping back to the past has viewers posing questions such as: What events in the past influenced him to become the person we just glimpsed in the future? How has Salvatore changed as person over the course of his life?

Another point in which the film does not match up with the standards of classical Hollywood cinema is in its conclusion. Bordwell notes the pressures of rulebooks for a happy ending and a logical wrap-up. In Cinema Paradiso, the ending sequence involves Alfredo’s funeral and the complete demolition of the local movie theater, neither of which I would consider to be happy events. In addition, Alfredo doesn’t end up with his love interest, Elena. Despite the fact that the ending does not conform to the classical Hollywood ending, it does manage to come full circle by answering the initial questions raised in the opening scene. The fact that Salvatore finally gets to see the censored scenes that he long begged Alfredo for is particularly satisfying. Moreover, having a film about movies end with the viewing of a film makes for an even more clear-cut conclusion.


Although I argue that the film as a whole does not conform to classical Hollywood cinema, there is one section where I do see it employing classical techniques. Bordwell writes that classical Hollywood cinema tends to incorporate two plot lines, one of these being a romance and the other involving work, a mission or another personal relationship; this characteristic is something Cinema Paradiso lives up to. As a teenager, Salvatore falls in love with the new girl at school, Elena, whom we do not get to know very well. She seems to fill the position of the beautiful Hollywood actress who is meant largely in part to be looked at. The pattern of the classical Hollywood narrative is fulfilled as we are led to question whether or not Salvatore will end up with Elena. Salvatore’s successful courtship and passionate embrace in the rain furthers this typical Hollywood romance that parallels the protagonist's main journey.

How Does Film Affect the Way You See the World?

Film is earth shattering as an art form and highly effective as a political medium because of its intimate connection with our eyes and ears. When we cry or laugh at a film, it is not because of the actors. On the contrary, our primary identification is with the camera itself. What the camera sees is what we see. What the camera records is what we hear. We are lead to feel a certain way about various characters and situations. In this manner, we are prevented from thinking what we want to think; the moving images replace our own thoughts. Moreover, what we see and hear on the screen is in many ways a distorted reality. For instance, imagine a shot where the characters are walking at a distance but their voices are heard close up. In reality, this is not the way sound works. Or how about an ending scene where there is a close up of the faces of a couple kissing. When are we ever that close to a couple in an intimate embrace? Not to mention how this kind of shot makes us believe that this is what happily ever after looks like, which is not necessarily the case.

In these ways and more, film technology has the ability to transcend our world. In his essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” Walter Benjamin supports this notion. He points out that technical reproduction can bring things closer by means of the close up and slow things down by means of slow motion. Film technology truly transforms the way we perceive the world by impacting our eyes and ears so that we look at things differently. Benjamin also notes that what we think we see on the screen might not actually be what is. For instance, a jump from a window can be shot in the studio as a jump from a scaffold, and the resulting flight can be shot weeks later when outdoor scenes are taken. In the final cut, these shots are smoothed together as one grand leap from a window. Through film, reality takes on a whole new meaning.

Because our eyes and ears have become so habituated to technology, we automatically accept the language of cinema. Film has become so habitual that we hardly realize the fact that it is in itself a second language. How is it a second language? Examine the shot-reverse-shot, a film technique in which characters speaking to each other appear on opposite sides of successive frames, each looking in the direction of each other. Even if the characters are speaking in a foreign language or the television is on mute, it is understood through the language of film that these two people are having a conversation. I had this kind of experience when I saw Amelie. The first time I watched the movie (without English subtitles) was in my high school French class. My French language skills only allowed me to understand about half of the dialogue, but nonetheless I was able to comprehend the overall meaning of the film.

Amelie illustrates in many ways how film tends not to show us what really is. In the film, we are able to simultaneously see two people’s whereabouts. For example, take the scene in which Amelie is taking her picture in the photo booth and Nino is hurrying to the train station. The camera switches back and forth between shots of Amelie, Nino, and the clock, which creates a sense of urgency and suspense. In Amelie, we are able to see through various people’s eyes. For instance, we see through Nino’s eyes in the shot in which the camera is looking down at the torn up photo of Amelie. The majority of the film (and most films for that matter) however, is seen through the eyes of a kind of all-seeing god.

Amelie is also demonstrative of the way in which film can help us understand certain feelings and emotions on a whole new level. Amelie’s panick when Nino is late showing up to the café is conveyed by the simultaneous use of fast motion and black and white. Also, when Nino walks out of the café still not knowing that Amelie is his admirer, her heart melts. This is shown literally as she transforms into a splash of water. Film is unique in that it can communicate in ways other art forms can’t.