Roberto (Jean-Louis Trintignant) is a young law student who decides to spend Ferragosto,  a national holiday in celebration of Emperor Augustus, studying for his upcoming legal examinations, planning to make use of the quietness of his surroundings to get some work done. This is quickly disrupted when, but pure accident, he encounters Bruno (Vittoria Gassman), an eccentric middle-aged man who arrives outside his door and is in need of help – and realizing that his new acquaintance is going to be alone all day, invites him on a trip for a drink and a light lunch. Roberto reluctantly agrees, mainly through being unable to resist the bombastic charms of a man who seems incapable of taking a refusal as an answer. What was supposed to be a short trip turns out to be a twenty-four-hour odyssey around various Italian cities and hamlets, as the two men grow to know each other while occupying the two seats of Bruno’s luxurious Italian sports-car. The further they venture up the ancient road of Via Aurelia, the more they realize how serendipitous their meeting is, with Roberto being the voice of reason that helps ground the impulsive Bruno, while his spontaneity is a breath of fresh air for the milquetoast student who would never have been able to see this side of life, the “easy life”, had he not hesitantly agreed to journey with a complete stranger. They encounter a range of characters, get into some precarious situations and only narrowly avoid danger – all the while celebrating their liberty and joie de vivre, while not being aware that life is not nearly as easy as they believe it to be, and that anything can happen, especially when you’re so engaged with achieving the perfect “sorpasso” (reckless overtaking of other cars), that you lose sight of what really matters.

Il Sorpasso is an incredible film, the kind that is almost too good to describe in coherent terms. It helps significantly that Dino Risi, one of the most fascinating filmmakers to work in the sub-genre of commedia all’italiana, made such an effortlessly simple comedy that transcends the boundaries normally established by more elaborate works of comedy, and instead ventures towards a kind of revolutionary narrative that seems displaced from anything the audience has seen before, yet still carrying all the traits consistent with the genre it’s working from. Italian neo-realism has always been an area in which I have been profoundly fascinated, but what tends to become even more compelling is when filmmakers like Risi not only recognize the importance of this particular movement, but embrace it in a way that employs the same understanding of inextricably human issues, but goes about doing it in a tenderly subversive manner that causes us to question not only the form this film comes in but also the message embedded deeply within it. Il Sorpasso is a deeply compelling work that balances quirky comedy with serious socio-cultural commentary, oscillating flawlessly between the two without ringing as inauthentic for a single moment, finding an honesty in the comedic form that no one could expect from a film that purports to be merely two hours of mindless entertainment. This is an undeniably joyful film on the surface – and it has an endless amount of charm – but it is in the moments where this facade momentarily shifts to the side, and we see the hideous reality Risi intended to convey through very subtle means, that consolidates Il Sorpasso as a vital work.

Attempting to provide a working definition of commedia all’italiana is about as straightforward as catching lightning in a bottle – we can try, but there isn’t any way to accomplish it without giving up halfway through. Italian cinema at this period was deviating in so many different directions, all of them borne from the same fundamental set of ideas. Yet, some of the most potent work comes in the form of these intricate comedies that present us with an outrageous story, and intend to take the audience on a riveting journey. In the case of Il Sorpasso, this is quite literal – the story of a young man being essentially shoved into the convertible of a total stranger and spending roughly twenty-four hours with him, engaged in some mild debauchery and undergoing a series of misadventures, is tantamount to many of the most mindlessly endearing comedies made in later years. However, Risi is singularly uninterested in leaving it there – there’s a depth to this film’s use of comedy that is simply extraordinary. Here, the comedy functions less as a means to make us laugh, but also as a way for us to gain insights into the version of the world Risi is so meticulously constructing. Humour can be a powerful narrative tool when used right, and the manner in which the director ventures inwards and finds a certain elegance in the irreverence is incredible. From the first moments of the film, the story is off to the races – one hilarious moment after another, as it gradually loses its sense of reality, where the boundaries between what is real and what are fabrications or delusions of the main characters’ fragile mental states (excused here as being their off-the-wall personalities), and it gradually just grows to reach a crescendo, which suddenly ends in the shattering climax that jerks the audience out of the gleeful stupor we’ve been put in, and reminds us life, for lack of a better word, sometimes tends to be very unfair.

Risi did something truly worth recognizing with Il Sorpasso, which somehow manages to be one of the funniest films of the 1960s, as well as a biting, terrifyingly dark statement on the dominant mentalities in the postwar period. Despite being a dyed-in-the-wool comedy from beginning to end (or rather, with the exception of the final scene, which is one of the most shocking endings I’ve ever seen to a film), there’s a heft to this film that is almost impenetrable. Il Sorpasso doesn’t present itself as a regular comedy – while it is funny right from the beginning, there’s an undeniable sense of foreboding that persists from the first moment, where something is slightly amiss, and which gradually develops into an uneasy sensation that doesn’t quite abate until we realize exactly where this film is heading, but which point it’s too late – we’ve performed a sorpasso of our own, with no hopes of turning back, so we watch as the carefully-constructed world of joy we’ve been a part of for nearly two hours disintegrates into anarchy. Risi knew exactly what he was doing with this film, so it’s hardly accidental that Il Sorpasso would be such a layered work, venturing beyond the confines of an ordinary comedy and presenting the viewer with something quite extraordinary, if not immensely unsettling – he holds a mirror up to society, and gives us the chance to laugh for a few hours, before sobering us out of that hilarious daze and showing us the truth about our banal existence. In the hands of a less daring filmmaker, Il Sorpasso simply would not have worked – but considering Risi was in something of a league of his own when it came to subverting expectations, it shouldn’t be surprising that this film, perhaps his crowning achievement, followed the same pattern of leading us in carefully, and pushing us out with immense ferocity.

In realizing the film, Risi works with two astonishing actors – Jean-Louis Trintignant was an actor who, alongside Michel Piccoli, commanded European arthouse cinema during this period, showing up in some true masterpieces around this era and always being exceptional. In Il Sorpasso, his performance as the meek Roberto may not be one that gives him the chance to explore the depths of his talents, as he is most reactionary to the absurd events going on around him, a comical foil that exists almost entirely to be a platform on which the other eccentric characters can perform their absurd humanistic routines. However, Trintignant does do quite a bit with the role – his journey from stuffy academic to free-wheeling libertine in the space of a single day is very compelling under his control, with the actor finding himself occupying the unenviable space of being the more subdued of the two characters, but the one we identify the most with. Trintignant is contrasted beautifully by the incredible Vittorio Gassman, who gives a truly impressive performance as the easy-going Bruno, who always sees the bright side of life and doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, leading a perfect existence – until it’s revealed that his upbeat persona hides a truly broken man struggling to come to terms with his own middle-age. The two actors play off each other so exceptionally well – they extend beyond the “odd couple” archetype and go in search of something much deeper and more compelling, bringing effortless humanity to these roles that could’ve so easily been a pair of disposable comedic characters who don’t have any weight to them. The actors are really the reason Il Sorpasso succeeds – and their work bolsters this film and elevates it dangerously close to the realm of an absolute masterpiece.

Outrageously funny, with carrying a venom that strikes the viewer when we least expect it, there’s no doubt that Il Sorpasso, otherwise known as “The Easy Life”, is a pivotal piece of Italian cinema, one that deserves to rise from its status as a well-loved but undervalued cult comedy, and instead be seen as an important moment in alternative neo-realism, one where the misery we normally associate with the movement being replaced by a buoyant and irreverent sense of humour, but ends up being just as unnerving and hopeless as anything done by De Sica or Rossellini at their most downbeat. This is a profoundly brilliant film – how it manages to negotiate the boundaries between effervescent comedy and stark social drama is incredible, mainly through the fact that each moment of outrageous humour is countered by a foreboding melancholy that speaks directly to the broader issues at the time, without actually directly exploring them. Needless to say, Il Sorpasso is something of a masterpiece – undeniably simple in its execution (how can a film where the vast majority of the plot takes place in a car speeding down a highway be so incredibly compelling?), but resonant in the themes it gradually amasses along the way. A work of comic genius in numerous areas, and an effortlessly funny, heartbreakingly real work that finds method to its madness, and ends up being nothing short of an incredible experience, and an unforgettable piece of mid-century Italian filmmaking that transports us to another world, and makes us truly appreciate our own.