Alberto Lattuada’s The Mill on the Po
remains of immense social and pictorial interest, its title and the opening scenes
seeming to promise a fairly narrow familial focus, but broadening out
significantly to place the mill and the people who depend on it in wider and
tumultuous economic and social context, and in its final moments almost seeming
to despair of such earthly machinations altogether, ending in stark, lonely
ceremony (those moments may have one thinking ahead to Bergman; the film more
generally reaches out across the decades to Bertolucci’s 1900). The titular
mill is run in rambunctious familial style, placed under strain by onerous new
taxes and the accompanying collection regime; during a stormy night, the family
ends up setting their livelihood on fire rather than submitting further. Berta,
one of the daughters, is engaged to the son of local tenant farmers, but out of
necessity now goes to work for the family as a servant instead; her fiancée tries
to place himself as a conduit between the landowner, interested in deploying
new technology to increase productivity and profit, and the skeptical workers,
but the conflicting forces are beyond anyone’s control, and a general strike breaks
out. The strike triggers some scenes of potent sadness and others of Eisenstein-evoking
mass resistance (which provide, of course, only a fleeting sense of victory); the
final moments, rooted in personal tragedy and its aftermath, suggest a
community drained of whatever coherence and spirit it once possessed. Lattuada
nails the recurring tragedy of the commons, its susceptibility to being turned
against itself, ultimately further strengthening the position of the landowning
capitalists (at times the film may bring to mind the present-day roots of
red-state populism). The plot mechanics and characterizations may sometimes be
rather too heavily conceived, but overall it’s a memorable and rewarding, under-celebrated
work.
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