In Stromboli, Bergman plays a Lithuanian "displaced person" in a refugee camp in Italy who is released after she marries an Italian POW who has been courting her. He brings her back to his home--the island of Stromboli--where there is nothing but some ramshackle fishing villages, lots 
of lava rock, and a burbling volcano. Bergman is rightfully apalled at much of what she sees there--aggression, superstition, and narrow-mindedness--and is soon (as in minutes after arriving) plotting her escape. After months of clashes with nearly everyone in her village, and, finally, with her jealous husband who beats her "like a dog," she effects her escape to a village on the opposite side of the island; to get there, however, she needs to find a passage over the volcano. In doing so, she is frustrated by noxious fumes and rough terrain, and is reduced to tears and, finally, sleep. The film ends with her overwhelmed by the beauty of the stars and of the volcano itself, and in a quandary about what to do next. In the dawn, she calls out to a merciful God to show her a path. I loved the ambiguous finish--she says she won't go back to the village (she is pregnant, and deadset on not raising a child there) but she hardly seems capable of continuing. She is suddenly aware of both her husband's and her own deep deficiencies as human beings, and is filled with compassion and a longing for deeper understanding. What she requires and is asking God for is the strength to shed her old skin and be born anew.
of lava rock, and a burbling volcano. Bergman is rightfully apalled at much of what she sees there--aggression, superstition, and narrow-mindedness--and is soon (as in minutes after arriving) plotting her escape. After months of clashes with nearly everyone in her village, and, finally, with her jealous husband who beats her "like a dog," she effects her escape to a village on the opposite side of the island; to get there, however, she needs to find a passage over the volcano. In doing so, she is frustrated by noxious fumes and rough terrain, and is reduced to tears and, finally, sleep. The film ends with her overwhelmed by the beauty of the stars and of the volcano itself, and in a quandary about what to do next. In the dawn, she calls out to a merciful God to show her a path. I loved the ambiguous finish--she says she won't go back to the village (she is pregnant, and deadset on not raising a child there) but she hardly seems capable of continuing. She is suddenly aware of both her husband's and her own deep deficiencies as human beings, and is filled with compassion and a longing for deeper understanding. What she requires and is asking God for is the strength to shed her old skin and be born anew.In Europa '51, Bergman plays the wife of an English industrialist in Rome who is suddenly plunged into despair at the loss of her 12 year-old son, who, it appears, has committed suicide. As she and her husband work through their grief, she becomes involved in a charity through a Marxist friend, Andrea. Soon the charity work takes over her life, and her husband and family begin to think (wrongly) that she is having an affair with her friend. By the film's end, the deep reservoirs of compassion she has unlocked in her heart have made her family and friends believe
she may even be mentally ill, and, after an examination, she is made a resident in an institution. At the finish, it is apparent from her interactions with the sad inmates that she will continue her charity work even if it means, ultimately, being marginalized and forgotten by the society she has been a part of. In this parable, Rossellini has essentially asked the question, What would happen if a saint actually appeared in our midst? Now, in Europe, in 1951? His answer: we might find her mad.
she may even be mentally ill, and, after an examination, she is made a resident in an institution. At the finish, it is apparent from her interactions with the sad inmates that she will continue her charity work even if it means, ultimately, being marginalized and forgotten by the society she has been a part of. In this parable, Rossellini has essentially asked the question, What would happen if a saint actually appeared in our midst? Now, in Europe, in 1951? His answer: we might find her mad.Both films can slide into heavy-handedness at times, and one longs for a little more narrative drive in spots, but the main attractions in the films, for me, are the splendid performances of Ingrid Bergman, the location shooting, the stark photography, the "slice-of-life" documentary stylings (the tuna fishing scene in Stromboli is as hardhitting a document of Italian working class life as there ever could be), and the simple fact that a filmmaker--well before the nouvelle vague and the rise of art-house cinema--would trust the audience enough to avoid easy answers.
~CD
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