There’s a scene in the film where Vittorio De Sica, masquerading as General Della Rovere at the behest of the Nazis, sits in his jail cell quietly stirring a cup of coffee. The prison is a grim place; the whole of Northern Italy under Nazi occupation is a prison of sorts. Liberation isn’t very promising either, at least not in the short term, as it incrementally arrives in the form of bombs dropped from Allied planes. Italians, rich and poor, are desperate everywhere. The poor eke by as they’ve always done except there’s the added danger of being shot or being sent to Germany as slave labor. The Haves of society struggle with depreciation of their wealth, fear their property being destroyed by war, seek desperate means to have their relatives released from Nazi imprisonment.
In this grim world, Grimaldi(played by De Sica) is a smooth operator. In the simplest sense, he’s petty swindler but not without certain virtues. It’s true that he gives people false hope and gently extorts money from them in the false promise of getting their relatives or loved ones released–mainly through bribery–from Nazi imprisonment. But, he’s self-delusional or slippery enough to believe in his own lies; he’s a crooked charmer than a cold calculating monster. There’s a degree of sincerity in his protestation(upon being found and arrested by Nazis) when he explains that he acted with a good heart(if not in good faith)to provide his clients–or victims–with hope in a world where there’s nothing left to cling to.
It’s not easy to despise Grimaldi, partly because of De Sica’s charms as an actor but also because he comes across as the quintessential survivor in a damaged and corrupt world. After all, Grimaldi isn’t responsible for the tyrannies or wars. He’s only trying to survive with and by using his wits.
Also, is his petty deceit to squeeze a little money from desperate people really all that different from what the Church has been doing with its flock for centuries? He didn’t create this world, he doesn’t rule this world. He was born into it and has to navigate and negotiate through harrowing situations and among people who have more power or money than he does. If the world is corrupt and the way to save one’s skin or get ahead is through deceit, he does as he must. He is ideally adaptive in his own way.
He has an easy way with people, with himself, and through all the ups and downs around him. There’s nothing admirably (or irritatingly) heroic about him as he gets along with anyone and fits in with any background–like a chameleon.
Ironically, it is for this reason that he is an ideal candidate to play the role–at the behest of the Nazis–of the heroic but recently executed General Della Rovere to ferret out a secret leader of the anti-Fascist rebellion in prison.
As time passes however, Grimaldi inwardly becomes the man he’s outwardly impersonating. He comes to share in the man’s ideals and hopes, especially after witnessing the brutal torture meted out to men suspected of anti-Fascist activity. The role he took on fraudulently to save his own skin and win favors from the Nazi masters becomes a personal mission, even a religion, by which he redeems himself.
Grimaldi-as-Rovere realizes his conscience–he discovers he has one!–cannot remain neutral in a struggle between good and evil; he cannot be amoral in an immoral world when good men are giving their lives for what’s right.
The soulful transformation of Grimaldi into the figure he impersonates is similar to the dilemma in Akira Kurosawa’s Kagemusha where a thief, serving as the double of a deceased lord, comes to absorb and appreciate the symbols, values, and the mythology of the clan.
Il General Della Rovere has parallels with Roberto Rossellin’s Open City–made during the final days of the German occupation in Italy. Il General Della Rovere, made nearly 15 yrs after Open City, understandably lacks the urgency and immediacy of the earlier masterpiece. But, because Della Rovere was made during a time of peace and stability–and with a measure of hindsight–, it is a more thoughtful work. Open City is a great film, but the Nazi villains were cartoonish–though understandable when it was made. The Nazi character in Il General Della Rovere, though ruthless and cunning(and villainous), registers as a human being faced with complexities of the situation. One senses that in a different place and time he might not have served the forces of evil, a thought that is as disturbing as
comforting. If it’s true that bad men in bad situations could well have been good men in good situations, the corollary is that good men in good situations could be bad men under bad situations. The Nazi officer could be one of us in our world, but we could be him in his world.
Even so, Rossellini’s point is that the officer, faced with options and armed with free will, chose the side of evil, and ultimately all men must answer for what they do(or don’t) and why(or why not?). Of course, in a world where people have few choices–good or bad–, some choose the bad and some choose the good while most try to stay in the middle, trying to save their skin until the smoke clears and a new order is firmly in place.
Grimaldis of the world have a good excuse for their slippery neutrality or duplicity. Like the ruffian who steals the baby’s clothes at the end of Rashomon, they can justify their cynical actions in the context of evil prevalent in the world.
Jesus asked, which among the would-be stoners were himself without sin? It was a profoundly moral question but one that can be distorted to justify evil. If indeed everyone is with sin, what’s wrong a little more sin? Grimaldi is fascinating because he seems to be perched between the two moral universes. In a way, he’s more forgiving of everyone–even the Nazis–because he sees humanity as flawed, foolish, and sinful. There are big crooks and small crooks, big fools and small fools. He’s like a creature that’s half mouse, half weasel; he tolerates everyone and seeks his own snug niche in the world. But in another way, he’s a worse scoundrel than most because his pervasive cynicism has no compass whatsoever. He’s like a boat with a sail but no rudder. Even the brutal Nazis, after all, stand for, fight for, and die for something. Grimaldi may be likable but he lives and dies for nothing, works and cheats for everyone. Is that kind of life worth living?
Grimaldi has one thing in common with the priest in Open City even if the comparison may seem perverse at first glance. The priest was of course a heroic and courageous figure throughout the film whereas Grimaldi turns heroic only at the end.
But, the priest too found himself in a moral predicament–in his case, between the spiritual and the secular. As a man committed to peace and spirituality, his support of militant partisans–a good number of whom were communists–was not an easy one. If Grimaldi tries to navigate between various peoples and interests, the priest tries to navigate between spiritual devotion and political involvement. Grimaldi and the priest meet the same fate at the end–death by firing squad–, realizing and embodying the tragedy of struggling in This World where not all things good or necessary are reconcilable or compatible.
Il General Della Rovere may have had an influence on Jean Pierre Melville’s Army of Shadows, at least with its style of controlled elegance and steadfast narrative amidst a violent and weary world.
Lina Wertmuller’s Seven Beauties may also owe something to it. Pasqualino of Wertmuller’s film is a very different kind of character: brash, stupid, vulgar, and foul. Still, he shares Grimaldi’s almost pathological predilection for self-preservation.
Perhaps, the two movies tell us much about the importance of personality. It could be Grimaldi ultimately found redemption because there had always been an inner saint underneath his sinner skin whereas Pasqualino’s snaky exterior hid nothing but a measly worm. Grimaldi and Pasqualino are variations of the two criminals crucified along with Jesus.
When Grimaldi chooses death at the end, he is indeed heroic in ways that other victims are not. Others had no choice as they were marked for execution whereas Grimaldi freely chose to stand with them before the firing squad. The difference is crucial for while all saints may be victims, most victims are not saints. In our debased world, there is the notion–preached mainly by the Left and ‘people of color’–that having been victimized or having suffered(in and of itself)ennobles a people. Ultimately, Grimaldi isn’t just another Italian unfortunate enough to suffer or die. He is an Italian who chooses to die in the name of what’s right. He achieves genuine Christian grace, having freely and courageously chosen the virtuous path. He chooses the needs of his soul than his flesh.
Perhaps, Il General Della Rovere had a therapeutic value for Italian viewers because of Italy’s reputation during the war. Italians were perceived as having been shamefully opportunistic–before, during, and after the war. When Mussolini pumped his countrymen with boastful pride, the majority were with him. When Germany was poised to be the dominant power in Europe, Italians admired and sided with the Germans. But, when the war turned against the Axis powers, Italians jumped ship and hooked up with the Allies. If Germans and Japanese, good or bad, at least fought to the bitter end, Italians shifted their alliances depending on which side seemed to be on top or offered the better deal. With the fall of Mussolini, Italians acted as though they’d always hated him and never chanted his name in mass rallies. So, a film like Il General Della Rovere may have had special meaning to Italians in the post-war era, at least to the extent that the main character, so characteristically Italian–spineless and shifty–, finally decides to be honorable and die like a man for his country, the cause, and self-respect. He also atones for his sins. If Italians had a hard time facing up to their true record during the Fascist era and World War II, a movie like Il General Della Rovere offered up the reality or myth of the individual Italian who demonstrated that he could be honorable, noble, and die like a man. The French had a similar thing going with the Resistance. If you can’t find the heroism of your people in broad daylight, you must look for it in the shadows. Della Rovere ends his life as a shadowy saint.
