When the Academy Award nominees for Best Picture of 1995 were announced in February of 1996, two film's included came as a complete surprise. First there was the talking pig movie, "Babe," an Australian import. (This may be discussed at some other time). Then there was the Italian film that had only played in art houses, "The Postman." Of course, this isn't the first time a foreign film has been nominated for Best Picture, but it's the first time in a long time. Plus, there was this buzz on "The Postman" which said that the lead actor had died just hours after finishing the last scene.

I haven't seen "Babe" yet but I have seen "The Postman" - and it's a charming, subtle romantic, sweet ode to life, love, femininity and poetry. The film, set in Italy, seems to have no time frame. Director Michael Radford doesn't distract us with title-pages that tell us where the action takes place or what year it is. He simply begins to tell his story. We meet Mario and are immediately drawn into his humble, simple world. His opening monologue, spoken to his quiet father, let's us know exactly what kind of person he is.

Mario goes to the movies and, in a segment that eerily evokes Radford's "1984," he watches a newsreel which informs him (and us) that a communist poet has been exiled. Soon, we learn that this wordsmith has been exiled to the small island on which Mario lives. And, as luck would have it, the next day, Mario gets a job as a postman delivering the poet's mail.

How Mario delicately works his way into poet Pablo Neruda's life is a miracle of plot, sub-text, acting and editing executed by Radford and his two stars, Massimo Troisi (Mario) and Phillippe Noiret (Neruda). The two initially seem to have nothing in common and yet, eventually, Troisi's placid demeanor and shy charisma win Noiret over. When the two begin discussing poetry, the film seems to enter a magical realm where words can seduce women and change political ideals. This idea of words as powerful elements continues throughout the film. It is no small accident that the initial relationship is between a postman and his customer. The beauty of the film is how the nature of the relationship changes until both men bring each other words, thoughts and ideas.

Soon Mario falls in love and Neruda helps him woo his conquest. But, here again, the film is sublime. There are no hackneyed plot points like having the men fall for the same woman or the woman falling for the wrong man. Instead we are treated to a wonderful segment of the film where the ideas of words and poetry as seducing elements and even evil impulses are explored, sometimes to delightfully humorous results. The object of Mario's desire, Beatrice (Maria Grazia Cucinotta), has a strict mother who complains to Neruda of how he has helped the practically destitute Mario seduce her daughter. It is a wonderfully funny sequence that must be seen (and heard) to be appreciated.

Some politics are thrown into the pot with minute effect. We are never totally sure why these sub-textual themes are explored and yet they somehow add to the magic of the film. I guess it's a further exploration of how words and ideas are important in matters of finance and living as well as love. Neruda is a communist and Mario, of course, follows his mentor's lead. This plot point is used to prove Mario right in a sequence that leads us to believe that Beatrice has chosen correctly by opting for her poet over a politician. Politics also plays a small part in the epilogue of the film. These may be important elements to the film but to those of us unfamiliar with Italian politics, they are a bit unfamiliar. Luckily, Radford keeps everything on a pretty basic level.

The actors here are wonderful. Troisi, the one who has died, opted to finish a film that is a sweet ode to life over living on himself. The actor, who helped Radford and others write the script (from a book called "Burning Patience" by Antonio Skarmeta), surely had an emotional investment as well as a financial one in the film. But this is all unnecessary info. Troisi is, to put it simply, wonderful here. His Mario is sweet, unassuming, and wide-eyed in a way that we haven't seen on screen in a long time. Although he appears a bit old, Troisi portrays Mario's innocence and sense of wondering at the world around him quite effectively. His pure nature wins us over almost immediately. He begins the film a bit tired of the terrain which is his life's setting and yet, at the film's end, he learns, thanks to Neruda, of the beauty in his own backyard. Troisi brings this thought to life allowing us to see that Mario's sweet poem, at the film's end, is poignant and soft. Troisi's interplay with Noiret is also an important part of the film. Aged and rather rotund, Noiret is a wonderful mentor to Troisi's Mario. We enjoy the way he talks to the simple fellow (the way he talks to Mario changes throughout the film's course) and how he grows to admire and appreciate his (supposed) inferior even though the Postman is not on the same intellectual level as himself, a celebrated poet. Troisi, of course, aids Noiret by being such a delightful man, yet it is Noiret's ability to eventually see this eager doe-eyed student as a real person and his ability to appreciate this that draws us to the poet. Cucinotta, meanwhile, has less of a part to play in the epic. Still, she manages to seduce us as easily as Mario subdues her. In order to win her love, Mario tells Cucinotta's Beatrice, "Your smile is like a spreading butterfly," surely not the most original thought to ever be expressed. Yet Cucinotta makes us believe that this simple compliment wins her over. That when Mario speaks, she melts. We have no trouble believing that she would chose this shy, slightly unattractive, pauper/would-be-poet over the more suave politico type who is courting her. Cucinotta's part in the film, which could seem trivial when viewed quickly, is actually integral to the plot.

Radford, who has made one other film with Italian influences ("Another Time, Another Place," 1983), wisely films the piece in Italian with subtitles. The film seems an ode to Italian films of the past. It's odd that from such a unwashed, run-down looking setting Radford makes such beautiful images. He has the vast seascape and a few natural landscapes to aid him, but mostly Radford's images are of decaying city streets, crumbling villas and dusty, cramped interiors. Radford allows his character's dreary daily surrounding become a backdrop for the beautiful words and ideas that echo throughout the film. Much like it's leading man, Radford's film is shy and quaint. In the final moments of the film, we see the island setting as the beautiful place too. We see it as Mario comes to see it.

The film, which was titled as "The Postman (Il Postino") on the print that I watched, is a joyous delight. Near perfect, it encapsulates the beauty of poetry in a way that one might think it is impossible for cinema to do. In fact, this may be the greatest movie about the magic of words ever lensed. And the climax finds us surprised in two ways. For the worse, the ending is a bit of a comedown. It offers up a poignant message but it is a tad bit to derivative to be truly rewarding. It's sweet yet a bit hollow. We want something a little more substantial from the film. But, on the plus side, we learn that Pablo Neruda is a real person and that the film is set in 1953. We wonder if this is based on a true story. The poem by Neruda which is scrolled after the film's final, sorrowful, long shot, is a perfect quote with which to end the film. When it is credited to Neruda we suddenly learn that he is a real person. Maybe I'm just unenlightened but I didn't know this fact while watching the piece. When we have the knowledge that this piece may be a true story, it warms our hearts a little bit more; We tend to forgive the conclusion's sappy qualities. We are allowed to love the film for the truly charming piece that it is. "The Postman" is a charming, subtle romantic, sweet ode to life, love, femininity and poetry. Amen.

Note: In Italian with subtitles and sparse, un-subtitled Spanish.

Director of Photography is Franco Di Giacomo. Music by Luis Enrique Bacalov.

Troisi could only work about 1 hour per day. Much of his screen appearance is actually handled by a double.

From my "Encyclopedia Americana:" Pablo Neruda is a Chilean poet born in 1904. He was still alive in the 70's. He served as a Counsul to numerous places and acted as a senator in the late 40's. (This is touched upon in the film). "He is considered an outstanding poet in the Spanish language."

Financially, even before the Oscar nominations, this was the most successful foreign film of 1995.

Oscar nominations: Best Picture, Best Actor (Troisi), Best Director (Radford), Best Adapted Screenplay (Radford, Troisi, Anna Pavignano, Furio Scarpelli, Giacomo Scarpelli), Original Dramatic Score (Bacalov).

There was an Italian film nominated for Best Foreign Film in 1995 as well, "The Star Maker."

Review written in 1996

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