English Title: Two Women
Original Title: La ciociara
Year: 1960
Genre: Drama, War
Country: Italy, France
Language: Italian, German
Director: Vittorio De Sica
Screenwriter: Cesare Zavattini
based on the novel by Alberto Moravia
Composer: Armando Trovajoli
Cinematographer: Gábor Pogány
Editor: Adriana Novelli
Cast:
Sophia Loren
Eleonora Brown
Jean-Paul Belmondo
Raf Vallone
Curt Lowens
Renato Salvatori
Franco Balducci
Luciano Pigozzi
Carlo Ninchi
Pupella Maggio
Andrea Checchi
Antonella Della Porta
Rating: 7.8/10
English Title: A Special Day
Original Title: Una giornata particolare
Year: 1977
Genre: Drama
Country: Italy, Canada
Language: Italian
Director: Ettore Scola
Screenwriters: Ettore Scola, Ruggero Maccari
Composer: Armando Trovajoli
Cinematographer: Pasqualino De Santis
Editor: Raimondo Crociani
Cast:
Sophia Loren
Marcello Mastroianni
John Vernon
Françoise Berd
Rating: 7.9/10
If Italian cinema were a dinner party, Vittorio De Sica would be the uncle who slams his fist on the table, shouting, “Mangia! la vita è terribile, ma mangia! (Eat!. Life is terrible, but eat!),” while Ettore Scola would be the cousin sipping wine in the corner, murmuring, “Notice how the Parmesan is a metaphor for fascism.” Their films TWO WOMEN and A SPECIAL DAY both star an incomparable Sophia Loren as a woman navigating a world intent on crushing her spirit - but where De Sica weaponizes chaos and displacement, Scola wields quietude and introspection. So without further do, let me unravel their visions, one strand of spaghetti at a time.
TWO WOMEN is a survivalist odyssey, a mother-daughter duo traipsing through the charred area "Ciociara" (referring to some impoverished territories southeast of Rome) during the dog-end days of WWII. Adapted from Moravia’s novel, it follows Cesira (Loren), a Roman shopkeeper fleeing bombs with her 12-year-old daughter, Rosetta (Brown). The war here isn’t a backdrop; it’s a rabid wolf that gnaws at their heels. De Sica, neorealism’s poet laureate, doesn’t just depict suffering - he dunks your face in it. Having survived Mussolini’s regime, he saw poverty and violence as systemic rot, a personal affront to human dignity. His camera lingers on grime and hunger like a grim archaeologist, unearthing the raw nerve of survival. The infamous rape scene (based on true events of mass rapes by the Moroccan Gourmiers in the said region after the battle of Monte Cassino) - brutal, unflinching, stripped of music or mercy - is less about shock than accusation. De Sica once snarled, “If we hide the truth, we’re fascists too.” His films scream: This is what happens when humanity forgets itself.
A SPECIAL DAY, meanwhile, is a masterclass in quiet rebellion. Set on May 6, 1938 - the day Hitler visits Mussolini in Rome - it’s a duet between Antonietta (Loren), a housewife drowning in domestic drudgery, and Gabriele (Marcello Mastroianni), a gay radio announcer facing persecution. Outside, fascist parades blare; inside, two misfits orbit each other in a dingy Roman apartment complex. Scola, who grew up under fascism’s banal shadow, wasn’t interested in war’s explosions but its echoes. “Fascism was a virus in the wallpaper,” he quipped, invisible until you’re choking on it. His film mocks the regime’s pomp (the parade is a farcical spectacle only heard in the background) while celebrating those who resisted by simply refusing to cheer. Antonietta and Gabriele’s bond isn’t just romance - it’s a silent pact between people who’ve outgrown their cages.
De Sica’s neorealism is less a style than a moral crusade. He shot TWO WOMEN in bombed-out villages, casting non-actors (Loren, a superstar, is his exception and Belmondo as the communist sympathizer Michele, is required by the French funding) and letting the camera bear witness to desperation. The landscape itself feels complicit - dusty roads, skeletal ruins, skies heavy with dread. When Cesira claws through rubble to protect Rosetta, the camera doesn’t flinch. It’s chaos choreographed, a symphony of dirt and tears. Loren, stripped of glamour, delivers a performance so visceral you can smell the sweat. De Sica reportedly told her, “Forget you are Sophia. Be hungry.” And hungry she is: Cesira’s fury is feral, her love a survival tactic. The Oscar she won? Let’s just say the statue probably still has claw marks.
Scola, a former cartoonist, painted with irony’s brush. A SPECIAL DAY unfolds in claustrophobic apartments, their walls pressing in like societal expectations. The diligently sepia-filtered palette - muddy browns, faded yellows - mirrors Antonietta’s stifled existence, while fascist flags emblazon like a force of impersonal annihilation, a jab at propaganda’s hollow cheer. Scola’s camera nimbly slithers within the finitude of the interior space and lingers on faces as if they’re maps of unspoken rebellions. When Antonietta and Gabriele share a coffee, the scene crackles with the tension of two people realizing they’re not alone in a world hellbent on making them feel small. Loren, directed to “play the emptiness,” moves like a ghost in her own life. Her Antonietta isn’t a heroine - she’s a woman who rediscovers her voice by loosening a hairpin. Mastroianni, swapping rakish charm for brittle vulnerability, plays Gabriele as a tragic clown. His final act - a meek recapitulation to be escorted away to rehabilitation camps in Sardinia - is a somber funeral for his true self.
De Sica saw cinema as a weapon, a megaphone for the marginalized. TWO WOMEN isn't just a story; it is a provocation. Reportedly he clashed with producers over the rape scene, insisting its brutality was necessary to expose war’s predation. “I make films to accuse,” he declared, and accuse he does: of fascism, of apathy, of a universe that abandons women to clean up its messes.
Scola, ever the sly satirist, believed humor and subtlety could cut deeper than sermons. A SPECIAL DAY mocks conformity through Antonietta’s male-chauvinistic husband Emanuele (Vernon), who barely treats her as another human being (crowing about he should beget a seventh child named Adolfo) and Gabriele’s colleagues, who parrot regime slogans like a grandstanding broken record. Yet Scola wasn’t cynical. The film’s warmth lies in its simmering defiance - the way Antonietta’s stolen glances and Gabriele’s wit become acts of rebellion. “Fascism died, but its shadow still dances at our parties,” he once mused, a reminder that tyranny can thrive in hushed complicity.
Loren, in both films, is a chameleon of human resilience. In the former, she’s a force of nature - a lioness who’ll throttle a wolf with her bare hands. In the latter, she’s a master of restraint, her Antonietta a bird remembering it has wings. De Sica’s Cesira survives by roaring; Scola’s Antonietta by whispering. Together, they bookend Italy’s cinematic soul: one howls at the darkness, the other lights a candle.
To all their anti-Fascist purposes, TWO WOMEN serves a punch to the gut, a howl against war’s monstrosity whereas A SPECIAL DAY slips a dagger into your ribs, a sigh against tyranny’s banality. Both ask: How do you stay human in a world that rewards cruelty and bigotry? The answer, perhaps, lies in their contrast - a reminder that resistance wears many faces. Sometimes it’s a mother’s primal scream; sometimes it’s a housewife’s resolute “no.”
Watch these two films together, first let De Sica’s monochromatic fury scorch your soul. Then, pour a bitter espresso and let Scola’s period two-hander soothe the burns. Together, they’re a reminder that Italian cinema doesn’t just tell stories - it throws a brick through your window and hands you a cannoli.
One final question, what does "Two Women" signify? Literally, it’s mother and child, but a 12-year-old is barely a woman in today's sense; symbolically, it mirrors Rosetta’s brutal transition from girlhood to womanhood via an abrupt, inhuman trauma. The duality critiques war’s gendered violence - how women endure displacement, hunger, and sexual predation while men battle. It also reflects Italy’s national identity crisis: a country “liberated” yet scarred by betrayal. The title, stark as a wound, universalizes their plight - two women becoming emblems of resilience and war’s invisible casualties.
referential entries: De Sica's MIRACLE IN MILAN (1951, 8.2/10), THE ROOF (1956, 7.5/10); Scola's LA TERRAZZA (1980, 7.2/10), THE VOYAGE OF CAPTAIN FRACASSA (1990, 7.4/10).
