Few filmmakers have been able to capture the human condition in as much vivid detail as Vittorio De Sica. Many may debate who the true master of Italian neo-realism is, based on parameters such as who made the first essential work, or the extent to which they strove to represent a particular period in the national history – but as much as we can argue for others, De Sica will always be seen as the person who told perhaps the most emotionally raw, but also incredibly vibrant, social stories. Whether we’re looking at seminal masterpieces like Umberto D. and Bicycle Thieves (two of the greatest films ever made), or some of his other work, which includes a couple of wonderful comedies, there is always so much value in engaging with the director’s work, since he was an artist whose vision was informed by nothing more than a fervent desire to represent his country at a particular moment in time, something that he carried with him from his debut all the way to the final film he made only months before his death. Shoeshine is often considered the first film that drew public attention to De Sica’s work – it was not his first film, as he had made a few prior to this one, but it was certainly the film that made audiences start to pay attention, if the reputation surrounding it is to be believed. A film that has been cited as an influence by countless theorists, critics and industry professionals themselves, as well as casual viewers over the years, it seems that the entire world has somehow united under a shared appreciation for this beautifully poetic and deeply tender story of a friendship between two boys that find themselves crushed under the weight of a fatal misunderstanding, which is the foundation for this harrowing but gorgeous rumination on themes of childhood and innocence, facilitated by one of the greatest social critics of his generation. 

Something that De Sica did exceptionally well is constructing films that draw out our sympathy, but in a way that isn’t seen as overwrought. Part of this comes in his approach to curating stories that speak directly to our most visceral emotions, and whether this comes in centring many of his films on groups that are often seen as being much more vulnerable or naive, such as children or animals (who of us can forget the heartbreaking friendship between an old man and his beloved hound in Umberto D., one of the director’s most important films), which immediately establishes them as very touching works that are aiming to look at those individuals who are helpless under the often vicious or draconian systems that govern their society, a remnant of fascism, which still lingered heavily, despite the war having essentially dismantled this entire ideology, but which still loomed as a spectre over the lives of every citizen. There’s a natural sincerity that underpins these stories, and while a film like Shoeshine is mostly very serious, since it focuses on the intersection between the mistreatment of working-class youth in a society that was concerned with ridding the streets of as many people who they viewed as inferior as possible, and the harsh judicial system, there are moments of very endearing charm, especially in the interactions between the young characters, through which the entire film is filtered. The director is sending a very clear message with Shoeshine, using children as the protagonists in what starts as a lovely film about companionship, and devolves into a haunting and often quite difficult account of the challenges many individuals tended to face as a result of the post-war mentality.

Emotionally, the film does border on being heavy-handed in some of its emotional conversation, but this is ultimately one of the fundamental qualities of the kind of realism that De Sica was most invested in exploring – some of his contemporaries such as Rossellini and Germi were more focused on bleak, objective depictions of the post-war society (since Italian neo-realism was spurred directly by the need to craft films that depicted the realities that faced the population in the years following the end of the Second World War) and how it factored into the everyday lives of ordinary citizens, and while a lot of this is indeed present in De Sica’s work, it is much more nuanced, taking the form of a more intricate, well-composed and often much more accessible kind of realism, one that doesn’t feel confrontational to the point of making the viewer uncomfortable (which is an effective technique, since it forces the audience to feel every pulsating emotion, just not one that fits into this particular kind of approach), but still hints at the darker side of the human condition that is being explored, which is a slight change of pace, since even at his most poignant, there was a degree of levity to De Sica’s most heartwrenching films. Shoeshine is unexpectedly his most challenging film, especially in how it handles the theme of childhood in a way that is often quite unpredictable. We often struggle to figure out where the story is heading – it does have a coherent and linear plot, but we are constantly trying to predict whether this will have a happy ending, since it is what these characters deserve. Unfortunately, as is often the case with everyday life, not everything is resolved in the way we would hope, which can be quite a challenge when we are dealing with a film that had the capacity to be delightful, but chose to challenge the status quo and go in its own unique direction.

De Sica did have an interesting challenge ahead of him when he set out to make Shoeshine, since at a quick glance, we’d expect this to be a charming, effervescent slice-of-life drama with broad overtures of humour – we don’t often find films focused on child protagonists that are extraordinarily bleak, especially since they’re normally viewed as paragons of innocence and vulnerability, and placing them in treacherous situations can become difficult for audiences to endure. However, this film structures itself as a harrowing account of an unfair system, and instead of composing a neat, well-constructed film with a traditional structure and a happy ending, De Sica goes in search of something much deeper. A lot of what makes Shoeshine so impactful are the performances. Continuing his practice of hiring almost entirely unknown, unprofessional actors to play the central roles (and thus affording his film an added level of authenticity, a common quality of neo-realist works), De Sica filters the story of these two young children through the perspective of Franco Interlenghi and Rinaldo Smordoni, two wonderfully gifted individuals that are making their debut here, turning in extraordinarily strong performances, which serve to ultimately contradict their inexperience. For amateurs, they are absolutely incredible, and the film is not only built around their innate talents, but also their undeniable chemistry. We truly believe these characters have been friends for years, which makes the film feel more authentic, but also contributes to the even more downbeat conclusion, which is made more heartbreaking as a result of the stellar work being done by these young actors. The characterization was key to the success of the film, and De Sica ensures that his protagonists (as well as the villains, who are just as important for plot progression) are as genuine and meaningful as possible.

Shoeshine is a film that is structuredas a tragedy, we are often forced into questioning the morality of the supposed authorities who are supposed to protect and nurture these young minds, rather than treating every child who has been involved in some kind of mischief or misdeed as a hardened criminal. The degree to which this is an authentic depiction remains to be seen, since it is likely that some part of this film was designed to be allegorical – but it becomes increasingly more effective the further we find ourselves venturing into this world, and De Sica ensures that, even at its most bleak, there is some sense of hope underlying the harrowing content. The film is undeniably De Sica’s most cynical, a likely result of the fact that it was the first film he produced after the end of the Second World War, which was the impetus for many artists at the time to create their most vitriolic, scathing works, since many of them hailed from countries that promised protection, but instead proved to only be taking part in the violent conflict for the sake of their honour, rather than the best interests of their citizens. Using metaphor selectively but in a way that is effective, the director draws on many fascinating themes, and evokes conversation that carries significance that is difficult to dismiss. There’s a gravity to this film that we may find difficult to embrace, but equally impossible to ignore, with the message being carried by the film being far more impactful than many other realist dramas that attempted to replicate and rework this kind of heartwrenching drama. Emotional but far from hysterical, and impactful in a way that feels genuine and steadfast in its commitment to a particular set of themes, Shoeshine is one of the most important films of its era, whether we are looking at the pioneering works of Italian neo-realism, post-war cinema, or even the history of film as a whole – there is always something valuable to be found in this masterful drama, which remains a truly extraordinary piece of art.