While most people will be more aware of the 1992 film that saw Al Pacino finally complete his transformation in a full parody of himself, Scent of a Woman (Italian: Profumo di donna) is actually one of the definitive entries into a genre that saw countless incredible filmmakers working to tell stories of ordinary people in extraordinary situations. The genre, often referred to as Commedia all’Italiana, has a long and storied history, and gave rise to many of the greatest artists in Italian cinema, many of whom would go on to define an entire generation of filmmakers through their fascinating and insightful works. Scent of a Woman is often considered one of the most cherished, not least because it was helmed by Dino Risi, a director whose prolific career saw him working across numerous genres, playfully deconstructing his craft in a way that allowed him to fully challenge both style and substance. However, this is still a very traditional film, both in terms of the narrative, with the cross-generational story between a blind retired veteran and his much younger companion with whom he is travelling across the country, in its values, which can sometimes date the film, firmly reminding us that this is a product of its time, a small and quaint comedy that makes light of some very serious situations, while still being provocative in a way that defined the artistic movement under which it was created. Scent of a Woman is an absolute delight, a charming existential comedy that tackles some of the more peculiar sides of Italian society, and seems to be genuinely invested in giving the viewer something to remember, with the ferocious humour and neverending candour with which Risi approaches this story making it an absolutely essential masterpiece of mid-century European cinema.

Scent of a Woman was made at a fascinating time in Italian cinema – the era of neo-realism, defined by the likes of Vittorio De Sica and Roberto Rossellini, had existed for several decades, and while many filmmakers were still invested in telling these heartbreaking stories of the stark and harrowing conditions wrought by the end of the Second World War, there were even more than were eager to elevate their craft to a new level, where the simplicity of neo-realism was replaced by a more pointed and complex form of storytelling. As a result, Commedia all’Italiana was often the source of some of the more provocative works produced during the period, since they were made by filmmakers that wanted to show a different side of Italian society, without disrespecting the filmmakers that reigned supreme in earlier decades (many of whom, such as the aforementioned De Sica, working alongside them in forming a new generation of Italian filmmaking). Progress is inevitable, and this was the primary approach taken by Risi in his several iconic and groundbreaking works – they may not seem revolutionary on the surface, but a film like Scent of a Woman is far more provocative than we’d expect, with the very nature of the story, and the conversations conducted as a result, concealing some very peculiar details about the society in which it takes place. Risi was never one to approach his stories from a place of compliance with conventions, instead choosing to often challenge them in creative ways, and turning some of the more striking details that inspired his work into magnificent, poetic odes to the world around him, which has always given the director’s films a sense of both celebration and sincerity in how they address a number of interesting issues, of which Scent of a Woman certainly does apply in its own way, even if it is a relatively straightforward film at first.

While it may not come close to the unhinged genius that was Il Sorpasso or Il Vedovo (arguably amongst his finest work)in terms of outright brilliance, Scent of a Woman is still something quite special, which it achieves through fully surrendering to the fact that a film doesn’t need to stay consistent in terms of tone – what starts as a hilarious and irreverent comedy eventually turns into a heartbreaking melodrama, and the transition is so smooth and effortless, we don’t even notice until we are squarely at the centre of the change, by which point we are thoroughly invested in the journey undertaken by these characters. The blend of genres and careful manipulation of conventions have always been some of Risi’s specialities as a filmmaker – he can easily take the most effervescent stories into some very dark narrative territory in the blink of an eye, or find humour in the most bleak situations. This doesn’t suggest inconsistency, since it all seems very much intentional – the more appropriate descriptor would be that Risi is adapting the tone to reflect the specific details of the story, targetting a precise set of emotions in the viewer that will hopefully make for a thrilling and captivating series of moments, some of them outrageously funny, others entirely heartbreaking – and in both instances, they’re extraordinarily moving and effective. Scent of a Woman has much to work with in terms of thematic material – disability, mental health and cross-generational miscommunication are all subjects that Risi approaches with the same dedication, somehow being able to draw both humour and heartbreak from them, sometimes even simultaneously, which only proves the merits embedded deep within this film, all of which elevate it further than the mindless comedy some may expect based on the premise.

Scent of a Woman also features another reunion between the director and Vittorio Gassman, with whom he frequently collaborated, having made a staggering eighteen films together over the course of their respective careers. Gassman is certainly one of the most interesting actors in the history of Italian cinema – he was physically intimidating, with his tall, brooding physique suggesting that he’d be a better fit for some of the more action-packed spaghetti westerns or poliziotteschi being produced in Italy the time, while his elegance and ability to disappear into any role making him a very gifted character actor that could do comedy just as well as tragedy. It made him a spectacular presence on screen, and there is an argument to be made that his performance as a visually-impaired former soldier venturing into some of the locations from the more fruitful years of his youth, is his best work. Perhaps it’s not his funniest performance (although some of his wisecracks are absolutely hilarious, and help endear us to the prickly but lovable character), there is a genuine earnestness with which Gassman approaches the character and defines him as someone we genuinely adore, even if the specific details would normally make him quite unlikeable in a more traditional sense. Gassman is joined by the very talented young Alessandro Momo, whose life was cut tragically short just after completing this film, making this a very sobering reminder of the volatility of life. Momo gives an equally strong performance, anchoring Scent of a Woman and helping to balance out his scene partner’s eccentric performance. Considering how much of this story is built on the dynamic between the two characters, it’s unsurprising that the actors give strong performances, and help move this film along at a steady and thoroughly unforgettable pace.

As a filmgoing community, we owe a great deal to Dino Risi, particularly when it comes to comedy, with his films often helping define contemporary approaches to humour. Scent of a Woman is unfortunately a footnote in the long and storied history of Italian cinema, despite being quite beloved amongst those who have a knowledge of either this particular era, or the director’s work – and the fact that it is frequently compared to the overstuffed, melodramatic remake from a few decades later does not do much in helping this film maintain a strong reputation. However, there’s an enormous divide between expectations and the final product, and through actively engaging with the storytelling, and venturing deep into the lives of these characters, Risi and his cohorts (including an incredible Gassman, who turns in an unforgettable performance) make a stunning film that is layered with meaning and humour. It’s a beautiful story that looks at some very serious subjects through the lens of seizing the day and enjoying every moment, regardless of the challenges that stand before us. It may sometimes feel a bit heavy-handed, especially in the third act (where the film fully foregoes humour and becomes a heartbreaking drama about lost love), but it is all done with purpose, each moment being genuine and meaningful in its own unique and unforgettable way. Scent of a Woman is an absolutely wonderful, well-formed film that proves that the most earnest conversations are those that come about honestly, through engaging directly with certain quandaries, and realizing that life is not something to be fearful of squandering – instead, it’s for living and celebrating every moment, even if it entails finding joy in some of the more unfortunate or difficult recesses of everyday existence.