There’s something so charming about Italian comedy, even those films that are not necessarily all that original. They’re often made with such wonderful sensitivity, we can’t help but be beguiled by the endearing nature of these stories. It helps a lot that many of the greatest ones were made by directors who were fully-fledged artists in their own right (being able to easily oscillate between comedy and drama without any hesitation), and had unforgettable stars that defined a particular era of Italian cinema. The Sign of Venus (Italian: Il segno di Venere) is one of these films – an early effort from Dino Risi, one of the finest directors to ever work in his national cinema, and featuring an ensemble of familiar faces that help guide this story along. The film itself may not be anything particularly unique – it is very often aimless and put together with a kind of roughness that many of the more notable entries into the genre carefully avoided, but there is still such an immense charm to this film that just never quite abates, and we’re left with an intricate, lovable romantic comedy filled with lovely moments and genuine emotion, which is often where even the most derivative comedies from this era succeeded wholeheartedly. Quirky but still featuring some very serious depth when it is necessary, The Sign of Venus is a lovable film, brimming with the kind of frantic, vaguely chaotic energy that was indicative of this era in Italian cinema – and by the time it’s all done, we’ve been thoroughly riveted and engaged with this endearing little film that dares to look at the other side of love.

The Sign of Venus is certainly a very different kind of genre film, insofar as it is definitely a comedy, and certainly focuses on the concept of romance – but it never truly manages to come together in a way that can be defined as a romantic comedy. This is a very intentional choice, and if we look at Risi’s prolific career, we can easily see how he often made films that took many different genre conventions and put them together, without succumbing to the concept as a whole. Romance is perceived from an entirely different perspective here, the kind that is more critical without being cynical. The structure of the film is remarkably simple in realizing these ideas – two cousins (played by Sophia Loren and Franca Valeri) are on opposite ends of the spectrum in regards to love – the former has too many suitors, the latter couldn’t find one if her life depended on it. Over the course of the film, the two protagonists navigate different locations of their Roman neighbourhood, with various men woven into their lives, giving off the impression that they’re finally going to find the love of their lives, and settle down. Obviously, this isn’t all that this film focuses on, and Risi is far too intelligent a filmmaker to put together something so derivative. Naturally, there are many surprises that meet us along the way – whether it be the men that they meet (among them a penniless poet who tries to convince them that he is wealthy and influential, and a car salesman who may get his supply through illicit means), or the various circumstances under which these different men enter into their lives. Risi’s control of the material is fascinating to see, since this is a very frantic film, but he still manages to reign it in when it is necessary, and prevents it from falling into complete chaos, which isn’t as easy as it would appear.

The film itself is quite compelling, but what really makes it special is the presence of Sophia Loren. Ultimately, as inventive a comedy as it is, The Sign of Venus was really created as a showcase for Loren, both her impeccable talents and iconic beauty, as was often the case with the films that she starred in for the first two decades of her career. These stories are built around her, positioning her at the centre, and asking very little of her other than just showcasing her unique charms, which captivated audiences for generations, right to the present day as she continues to press on as one of the final remaining stars of the Golden Age of Hollywood, a status she only acquired through becoming a siren of directors like Risi and his contemporaries. Loren is obviously terrific in this film, and it undeniably was made to be a vehicle for her as a star. Yet, she’s not the only person who leaves a lasting impression – in many ways, Franca Valeri is the true star of the film, playing the matronly, reserved Cesira, who stands in stark contrast to her cousin, who is the epitome of desirable. The comparison between the two is always fascinating, since there is a lot of depth to their relationship, and the two actresses are on top form. Film director Vittorio De Sica has a substantial supporting role, playing the grandiose Alessio Spano, a poet who has fallen on hard times, but still does his best to appear as the definition of sophistication, carefully curating his dishonesty to be reflective of a life he no longer has, but would like to convince others that he still possesses. The cast is terrific, and The Sign of Venus simply wouldn’t have worked without their impeccable work.

Comedy is often very tricky when there isn’t a particularly coherent story – we’ve seen many filmmakers attempt to adopt an approach where they string together a few self-contained scenes and refer to it as a comedy film. Risi could create coherent, linear narratives, as well as more disjointed ones, with equal effect, since he understood what makes these different approaches interesting isn’t the content, but how the audience invests in them. Both Cesira and Agnese are solid protagonists since they act as audience surrogates – they have an abundance of personality, but they’re not at all overwrought or too eccentric, functioning more as more reserved characters that exist for the sole purpose of giving us insights into this world. The eccentricities are reserved for the supporting characters, who are present when they are necessary, and step away when they’re not needed anymore, returning whenever a quick laugh is required. This isn’t a revolutionary approach, but it’s something that the sub-genre of Commedia dell’Italiana grew particularly good at conveying. The Sign of Venus doesn’t quite fit into this movement, but rather occurred concurrently and shares some similarities, but also deviates in certain areas, which makes it a very interesting work, since it was directed by someone who would become one of the most important in that artistic school of thought. Ultimately, it’s not the content that keeps us engaged, but how we feel like we have been inserted into this world, with The Sign of Venus being a wonderfully immersive experience, and a film that always makes its intentions very clear, from the outset, and keeps it consistent throughout the entire film.

What makes The Sign of Venus so endearing is how simple it is – after all, Risi wasn’t known to be too focused on labyrinthine plots, or over-exerting his protagonists to the point that they were carrying too much weight as audience surrogates. As this film demonstrates, there is merit in approaching a story without too much laborious effort, and that something can be compelling simply through flourishing organically. There isn’t any need to look too deep into the story, because everything that we need to know is found on the surface level, and all the deviations into trivial matters are more supplementary than they are distracting. What is most important is how the film takes a few leaps of faith at the start, and hopes the audience will join it – and not only does it transport us to this enchanting, vaguely surreal version of reality (where there is a palpable magic in the atmosphere, almost as if Risi was trying to construct a contemporary fairytale), but it maintains this tone, keeping us captivated throughout. The film keeps our attention, and mesmerizes us with its beautiful filmmaking (Rome is truly one of the most beautiful cities to ever be captured on film), and the peculiar but endearing humour that helps it along in delivering its stunning message. Sweet, sentimental and always funny, The Sign of Venus is an absolute delight, and yet another wonderful entry into mid-century Italian comedies that dare to be different by giving us something to enjoy wholeheartedly.