The Martin Scorsese documentary Italianamerican came out in 1974, the same year as The Godfather Part II. Both films examine the immigrant experience, specifically through the lens of Italians in the New York area, and yet they could not be more different. Coppola’s Godfather sequel is a mournful consideration of murder and guilt, while Scorsese films his Italian-American parents with ebullience. Perhaps Scorsese, sensing that the autobiographical nature of Mean Streets could give audiences the wrong idea, wanted to celebrate the parents who raised him. Few of his films are ever this charming.
In one sense, there is not much to the documentary. Over what appears to be a single evening, Martin Scorsese films his parents Catherine and Charles in their apartment. He deploys a cinema verité approach, letting us see how his parents are self-conscious about the cameras, but they loosen up as the film continues. They make dinner, then talk about their background. Scorsese stays off-camera for the first half, and then joins them for dinner, probing them to open up more. We get the sense that Catherine is a natural storyteller, while Charles is more observant and introspect.
Guilt is a recurring theme in Scorsese’s films, a byproduct of his Catholic upbringing, although that feeling cannot be found here. Instead, we observe two charming people who made the most of their lives, and found meaning through poverty. Catherine talks about the tiny living space she had as a child, for example, with a mix of humility and nostalgia. Despite all the stories and asides that pepper the film, the subtext of the apartment is arguably more fascinating. To see Italianamerican is to never forget the plastic that covers the furniture, Catherine’s beehive hairdo, or the garish wallpaper in the kitchen–with matching paper towels, naturally.
Longtime Scorsese fans will immediately recognize Catherine. She appears in Goodfellas and Casino, with the same beehive, as the doting mother to hapless mobsters. A lazy Scorsese criticism is that his gangster films celebrate gangster behavior, and her cameos might be a part of that: she adds a sense of maternal decorum to films defined by violence and greed. Of course, the criticism is totally misguided because Scorsese has always been a moralist (if you don’t believe me, recall how these aforementioned gangster films finally end). Italianamerican is also moral film, albeit an endorsement and not a commendation: here is a representation of Scorsese’s values, filtered through his penchant for observation and human comedy.
Anyone who sees this film will remember Catherine’s meatballs. Scorsese films her adoringly as she cooks them, and the closing credits include her recipe. Food is how most Americans connect to Italians, so this film uses food as an entry point, and yet there is depth to what her and Charles say to the camera. They speak about their families – and crossing the Atlantic via boat – with a sense of urgency, as if they cannot stand their history being forgotten. At under an hour, Italianamerican never overstays its welcome (Scorsese probably has heard the same stories too many times, and wants to spare us). But it leaves a strong an impression, a snapshot of people whose shared experience – without Scorsese’s impulses as a historian, on top of being a filmmaker – might be lost forever.
The post Oeuvre: Scorsese: Italianamerican appeared first on Spectrum Culture.