2 days Ago By Alissasimon
“There’s Still Tomorrow,” the stirring Italian box-office juggernaut of 2023, finally lands in American cinemas. Set in June 1946, just before Italian women first voted in elections, the beautifully crafted, slyly funny, black-and-white feminist dramedy looks at the resilience of an abused, working-class housewife in post-war Rome. It marks the audacious feature directing debut of talented multi-hyphenate Paola Cortellesi , who not only stars but also co-wrote the tight script with Furio Andreotti and Giulia Calenda.
It sounds paradoxical to say that a film depicting violence against women is exhilarating, but the film’s handling of those scenes along with its adroit shifts in tone and top quality on every cinematic level make it something very special. A critical as well as popular favorite, “There’s Still Tomorrow” debuted at the Rome Film Festival in 2023, where it nabbed three prizes, including the audience award. Since then, the film and its universal message of female fortitude and empowerment found favor in festivals around the world.
It claimed top kudos in Sydney, Goteborg and Pingyao and received numerous national awards. In struggling post-war Rome, American military police still patrol the streets. Times are hard for the working class, who must contend with low pay and food shortages.
For most women, things prove even more difficult; regarded by their men folk as second-class citizens, they silently accept a lifetime of mistreatment because that was simply the culture back then. Hardworking Delia (Cortellesi) shares a humble basement apartment with her physically and verbally abusive husband Ivano (Valerio Mastandrea), two rowdy young sons, pretty teen daughter Marcella (Romana Maggiora Vergano) and her misogynist, bedridden father-in-law Ottorino (Giorgio Colangeli). The film’s opening moments show the sad domestic situation that has become her lot in life: a slap on the face from Ivano before she even gets out of bed, Ottorino trying to cop a feel when he collects his bedpan and the disdain of Marcella for her inability to do something about it.
She even has to ask Ivano’s permission to leave the house. Despite the lack of respect she receives at home, the worn but willowy Delia is esteemed (albeit not so well paid) for the heavy load of work she performs outside of it: assembling umbrellas, mending lingerie, dispensing injections and doing laundry. Even though Ivano demands her meager earnings and those of Marcella, whom he forced to drop out of school and learn a trade, Delia has managed to squirrel away nearly 8,000 lira, which she plans to spend on a wedding dress for her beloved daughter.
When Marcella becomes engaged to Giulio (Francesco Centorame), the son of snobbish cafe owners, Delia believes that her daughter will have a better life. But one day she overhears the way the lad is talking to her daughter and it sets off alarm bells. With the deus ex machina aid of a friendly American serviceman (a sympathetic Yonv Joseph), Delia sabotages the relationship and thinks of a better way her money could benefit Marcella.
The smart, thoughtful screenplay contextualizes the specific time when the action takes place and helps viewers to understand that world. It also cleverly plays with audience expectations by introducing the gentle car mechanic Nino (Vinicio Marchioni), a former admirer of Delia’s, who still has feelings for her and she for him, as well as the arrival of a mysterious letter addressed to Delia. The tasty dialogue, wherein most of the humor lies, indicates the difference between classes but also the history and expectations of the milieu in which Delia exists.
The incorrigible, scabrous Ottorino gets many of the best lines, as he rattles on about the benefits of cousins marrying cousins as well as his former sideline in grave robbing and selling artifacts to wealthy Fascists. Fashioned in the style of Italy’s “Pink Neorealism,” that is, realistic characters with a love story in the background, Cortellesi and her team take it one step further with their use of music. At times, the action provides counterpoint to the romantic period songs.
On other occasions, she adapts the choreography of musicals to depict the domestic abuse. As the ordinary woman who ultimately gains awareness and develops from doormat to defiant, the expressive Cortellesi is excellent. She’s surrounded by equally fine actors, in parts both large and small, who understand the story and the tone.
Particularly moving is the sisterhood of women like Delia, the housewives of the neighborhood, who see how she suffers and help in the only way they can, through sympathy and the loan of household goods. The craft credits are also praiseworthy across the board. Especially notable is Valentina Mariani’s precision cutting that highlights the contrasts between Delia’s domestic situation and those that she encounters outside the home.
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