At the end of the 19th century, the best prose poetry film in the northern Italian countryside. Country, class, family, earth, love, faith. No conflict, no fierceness, no shouting, a calm and timeless prose poem.
Write about grandpa, accumulate chicken manure; fertilize on snowy nights; grow tomatoes by the soil wall; teach granddaughter farming; pots and pans as a band to take the children all the way; take granddaughter to the city to sell the first tomato;
Write about the father, send the children to school; help the children warm their feet; bathe the children; secretly cut trees to make clogs for the children;
Write about my brother, who was 15 years old and took on the responsibilities of the family man, resolutely not sending his little sister to the monastery, but he couldn't help but wet the bed;
Write alms beggar, "A person who has nothing is the person closest to God"
Write that a child came into the world, "When an angel is born, God himself will take care of him"
Write about the adopted child, “Now he is a farmer’s child, he will be happy if he loves him” Write the languageless love and marriage, “Heaven is born in our mutual love”
Finally, send your married daughter aboard and leave, follow the boat, and say goodbye...
A young man who walks at night and is afraid of the dark, sings loudly and emboldens himself;
The man picked up the gold coin and hid his horse's hoof;
Add a little stone to weigh when delivering grain;
The pig didn’t want to go out anyway when killing the pig;
Your tools and 2/3 of your products belong to the landlord.
Bach’s pipe organ, church bells, evening prayers with the farmers...
It's snowing, and you can smell the mud of the earth almost across the screen. You are totally in love with these humble lives.
The opposite of tenant farmers, landlords with material rights, churches with religious rights, and monasteries with material donations, account for only 10% of the film. But seeing the mothers dignified, the children without life, and the landlords calculating, it is actually not that happy.
Probably the true happiness is not possession, but the endless emotion between you and the land.
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