Where does one start when talking about Luchino Visconti? A filmmaker who consistently challenges conventions, while becoming quite a formidable creative force in his own right, his career was populated by a wide array of films occurring across multiple genres, each one a masterpiece that challenged certain conventions while immediately proving themselves to be worthwhile additions to the canon of incredible cinematic stories. What is most interesting about Visconti is that fact that while he certainly has a few unimpeachable masterpieces that very few would argue with (The Leopard and Death in Venice both being amongst the finest works produced in their respective decades, and with good reason), his career is brimming with work that has touched so many people, each person finding something new in one of the director’s many films, warranting every bit of acclaim that he has received over the course of his career, which immediately established him as one of the most important filmmakers of his or any generation. My personal favourite film Visconti directed was the astounding Rocco and His Brothers (Italian: Rocco e i suoi fratelli), a daring familial odyssey that is simultaneously epic and intimate, the rare film that manages to convincingly make an argument for both sides of the spectrum, while being an incredible work all in its own right. The film traverses complex subjects with an effortlessness that can only come from a director who is so at ease with his craft – yet we shouldn’t mistake this for complacency, since every frame of this film is brimming with a kind of aching melancholy that is extracted from Visconti’s fascination with the world around him, and his willingness to labour endlessly until his vision was realized. Rocco and His Brothers is quite simply an extraordinary achievement in every sense of the term, and should be celebrated as a masterpiece not only of Italian cinema, but of artistic expression as a whole.

While such effusive praise may carry some sentiment of hyperbole (which I’m certainly not a stranger to), everything that makes Visconti an astounding filmmaker can be found in this film. Whether it be his unique perspective on family, his masterful control of language, which is repurposed to be both authentic and thoroughly poetic, or his ability to extract so much emotion from the most inconsequential situations, Rocco and His Brothers is a poignant demonstration of everything the director was capable of, and to the degree that it may even be able to overtake some of his more canonical masterpieces to be perhaps his most heartbreakingly brilliant work. In addition to this, the more abstract sides of the story are accompanied by some of the most striking images of its era, yet another indication that this is a film hailing from one of the great cinematic minds of his era, a complex and layered portrait of family that should theoretically be a heavy-handed piece of social commentary, but almost instantly establishes itself as one of the finest pieces of filmmaking produced at the time. The themes that Visconti is exploring with Rocco and His Brothers may seem pedestrian at first, but it gradually grows into a hauntingly beautiful portrait of a group of individuals facing an intimidating world, one where they don’t have any direct prospects for success, and are armed with only their ambition, willingness to work towards a goal they aren’t even sure of themselves, and (more than anything else), their unimpeachable humanity that keeps them optimistic when faced with even the most bleak reality, which has always been at the heart of everything the director made throughout his incredible career.

Is it not fascinating when an artist decides to forego any of the more glamorous subjects that are often the basis of creative works, and instead decides to venture into the realm of something far more fundamental? There are few subjects quite as far-reaching as that of family, with many individuals working towards presenting it in their own unique vision of what a family is. Cinematically, we’ve seen every kind of family presented on screen, in both positive and negative ways, and thus there’s not really much to be said about an entirely unique perspective of a traditional (or non-traditional) family, since every possible configuration has been found somewhere in the artistic zeitgeist at some point. However, where Visconti deviates is in how he presents this particular story to us, both in the intentions he has and the methods he employs in executing them. As a whole, Rocco and His Brothers is a story about, as the title suggests, a family of sons, each one of them a distinct individual who experiences different sides of life after moving from an impoverished village to the bustling city of Sicily. At three hours in length, the film certainly has enough space to explore every recess of these characters and their lives as they traverse hostile socio-cultural territory in an effort to make their mark on a world they don’t quite understand. Each one an individual who is bound to each other by virtue of being the “five finger of [their mother’s] hand”, the film not only looks at their unique experiences, but their relationship with each other – and this is precisely where the film comes into its own and makes quite a poignant statement without revealing too much or being preoccupied with the specifics of what is already a very complex, but undeniably gorgeous, exploration of the human spirit.

Visconti always demonstrated a keen understanding of humanity, and this so often manifests in the work he does with his actors. One of the rare directors who was able to effortlessly oscillate between style and substance, he found a balance between the two that brought out the very best in everyone he worked with. Rocco and His Brothers is exceptionally well-cast, with Visconti assembling a tremendous ensemble to act as the chorus to his incredible ode to family. The titular Rocco is played by Alain Delon, who was establishing himself as one of Europe’s most enigmatic young stars – and taken alongside his equally-impressive performance that same year in Purple Noon (where his Tom Ripley is just about as far from the character of Rocco Parondi as one can get), it’s not difficult to see why Delon was such a sensation. Despite being the central figure (to the point where his narrative is squarely in the middle of the film, both literally and metaphorically), Delon is giving a very quiet, subdued performance that flourishes in the more intimate moments, each of his interactions with one of the other characters being filled with a restraint that showed a frank understanding of the part, and a willingness to explore every side of the character. Delon is complemented (rather than eclipsed) by some of the more explosive performances given by Renato Salvatori and Annie Girardot, who give bold but still very compelling portrayals of their characters, finding the earnestness in a pair of individuals who, just like Rocco, are trying to make their own way through life. Girardot in particular is wildly brilliant – using nothing but her wry smile and incredible expressivity, she navigates Visconti’s world with a kind of elegance that perfectly counteracts the rugged masculinity provided by her male co-stars, striking the right balance between gritty realism and poetic romanticism, which is yet another nuance the director makes sure to explore to its fullest extent throughout the film.

This is certainly not a film that should be taken for granted – despite being overshadowed by some of the director’s more traditionally stunning films, very few works from this era have been able to strike the raw nerve on the human condition that Rocco and His Brothers managed to do, both in terms of its visual scope (with Giuseppe Rotunno’s cinematography being absolutely astonishing in capturing every wayward emotion expressed on the faces of the actors) and how it approaches the story. I’ve previously spoken about it in prior discussions on Visconti’s work, but what makes something like Rocco and His Brothers so compelling is that it has one of the director’s most distinct qualities – an appreciation for simplicity. Despite its length, and the promise of being an epic glimpse into the life of an ordinary family trying to make a living in a time and place hostile to their existence, Rocco and His Brothers is not a convoluted film. Visconti keeps everything on the fundamentally human level, never deviating from the truth embedded in the story – part of this is based on his literary sources, with the trio of Thomas Mann, Giovanni Testori and Rocco Scotellaro being influences on this film in various ways, all of them firmly intent on exploring the experiences of ordinary people – simple, unfurnished tales that aim to get to the root of existence in a way that feels authentic, abandoning the grandiosity that normally comes prepackaged with these kinds of films that purport to get to the root of the human condition, but rarely ever make any meaningful contribution to the discourse as a whole. The director weaves a poignant tale of several individuals who find themselves faced with a series of intimidating challenges, which only gradually become worse as they find themselves settling into their new lives, which may not have been as bright as they expected.

As demonstrated throughout this film, the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, and Visconti does so well in conveying this message without ever becoming overwrought, or delivering this commentary in a heavy-handed manner. The graceful simplicity of the execution stands in stark contrast with the numerous layers of the story, creating a vivid tapestry of existence that only someone with the intricate understanding of such issues could possibly hope to create. Between its gorgeous cinematography, which manages to capture even the most subtle nuance, to the powerful performances given by a cast who implicitly understand everything about the characters they’re playing, to the exceptional writing that finds a rare poeticism in the most ordinary of situations, Rocco and His Brothers is an absolute masterpiece. It carries an emotional gravitas that works alongside the intentionally paltry story to create a dynamic portrait of humanity that is as beautifully soulful as it is absolutely heartbreaking. Visconti cuts to the core of some very big issues in a manner that is both elegant and impactful – and the result is an absolutely gorgeous glimpse into the life of a family doing what they can to survive. This film’s standing in Visconti’s career has been contentious – it has received rapturous acclaim, but has always been seen as something of a lesser work. Fortunately, true devotees to the director will note that he rarely made anything that wasn’t worth watching, and while it may not be the formidable period drama that has come to be seen as The Leopard, it is still an incredible achievement, and a truly exceptional work that finds the beauty in the most unexpected places, and proves that absolutely any circumstance can become the basis for a truly incredible piece of commentary should one take the right approach to the material.