Miracle in Milan
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
This review is a part of the Palme d’Or Project: a review of every single Palme d’Or winner at Cannes Film Festival. This is a Grand Prix winner: what the Palme d’Or was originally called before 1955. Miracle in Milan won the Grand Prix award in 1951, as the 1950 Cannes Film Festival was cancelled due to budgetary concerns; it shared this award with Miss Julie.
The film was selected by the following jury.
Jury President: André Maurois.
Jury: Suzanne Bidault-Borel Louis Chauvet, Evrard de Rouvre, Guy Desson, Jacques Ibert, Gaby Morlay, Georges Raguis, René Jeanne, Carlo Rim, Louis Touchagues, Paul Vialar.
Vitorrio De Sica has made some of the most emotionally harrowing films I've ever seen, ranging from Bicycle Thieves and Two Women, to the saddest of them all: Umberto D. His brand of Italian neorealism is poetically rich, with his ability to channel the exhaustion and desperation of an entire class of civilians. Seeing something quite different like Miracle in Milan is a nice change of pace. I do understand that De Sica was capable of more than just visceral cinema, but actually getting around to these works feels like something I need to do more often. Then again, his neorealist masterpieces are timeless. Something like Miracle in Milan is earnest, yet not all of it holds up quite as well as his other motion pictures.
In this fantasy depiction of neorealism, a Milan after World War II is struggling to keep up with the demands of the world; the global onslaught is over, but many of the planet's citizens are left scrambling in this aftermath. De Sica uses this opportunity to grant these Italian city folk with his own set of wishes, and that's where the imaginative element of Miracle in Milan comes in. De Sica implements some wonderful cinematic effects, including the overwhelming parade of spirits in the final act. While it is possible to sit back and appreciate (or even be bowled over by) these sequences in the twenty first century, I can't help but feel that some of these passages have aged not too well. Some moments come off as goofy (and not in the intendedly fun way), and some are just problematic (including characters of different ethnicities shifting into the skin colour of one another, incorporating both blackface and whitewashing at exactly the same time). I can say that everything is well intentioned, but that doesn't mean that Miracle in Milan is safe from feeling off at times.
However, it is the intended purpose that makes the film still work at at least an operational level when watched now. There's a motive to grant these hurt, starving people with some hope and joy amidst the toughest times of their lives. This is particularly effective post-war: when everyone thought things would instantly get better (that sadly isn't how things work). There's a nobility in what De Sica does, and that carries the picture even through its head-scratching moments. The auteur has shown us his motherland in agony. It was time that he presented the world with its spirit and youthfulness. In hindsight, I do think that there are more deserving De Sica pictures when it comes to the idea of being a Palme d'Or (or Grand Prix) winner, but I'm also okay with Miracle in Milan carrying the torch for a cinematic legend. It's still compelling and magical enough to move and entertain (even amidst its silliest parts, I still felt like I was going to tear up at any given moment), and the film itself is a celebration of an entire country and its people: sometimes that's all it takes to warrant some appreciation (it also helps when the celebration itself is good enough to actually be worthy of at least one watch).
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.