‘Bravissimo’ or — A Live Action Chuck Jones Cartoon?
Ubaldo Impallato (Alberto Sordi) is a substitute teacher unable to secure a permanent position at the local school so, instead, makes a meagre living by providing a sort of child-care service for his busy neighbours. However, when six year old Gigetto’s father is arrested and sent to prison Ubaldo, a self-centered bachelor, is suddenly lumbered with a kid to look after full-time and so desperately starts trying to palm the poor little waif off to Gigetto’s various family members, all with no avail.
Then one day, as Ubaldo is cooking spaghetti in the kitchen, he hears the most wonderful baritone voice singing opera on the radio, yet when he enters his living room and turns the radio off the singing doesn’t stop and it is with a brain-shattering shock that Ubaldo realises this beautiful, deep rich voice belting out the Barber of Seville is coming from… the kid!
Smelling a fortune to be made from this miniscule musical miracle Ubaldo frantically scrambles to find a way to financially exploit the little monster… I mean, dear child… before his father is released from prison or the relatives discover his secret and attempt to muscle in on the action themselves.
‘Bravissimo’ (1955) shares a lot in common with Chuck Jones’ excellent cartoon ‘One Froggy Evening’ (1955) where a man stumbles across an unnatural singing sensation that defies believability, and the good news is the script was written by the legendary Age and Scarpelli who keep everything moving and prevent the idea from lapsing into a one-gag joke.
So, at first, Ubaldo has trouble convincing talent agents of Gigetto’s astonishing ability because the kid is too nervous to perform in front of strangers, but it’s not long until he’s singing on TV and becoming an international sensation leading to a whole host of comedic situations.
Sordi plays his typical immature, loafing, conceited, preening, supercilious persona who looks down on everyone else even when, or especially because, he’s their inferior (his only discernible skill is his ability to speak a smattering of Montenegrin because he was stationed there during the war, a skill he loves to show off at every available opportunity even though it has zero practical value), and it’s a persona Sordi always pulled-off brilliantly, searching every possible opening, moment or physical or vocal gesture into which he could inject a flourish of mirth.
The script might not be Age and Scarpelli’s best (the ending feels somewhat rushed) but it’s constantly and consistently funny and, more than once in a while, extremely funny (there’s just something about a tiny, timid looking kid with the booming baritone voice of an adult opera singer that’s inherently hilarious) and while it might lack the savage satirical bite of their greatest work there’s still plenty of digs and swipes at the Italian lust for fame and fortune as a means to escape poverty, the nation’s star system and the tendency for parental figures to exploit their offspring for celebrity and popularity meaning the film almost feels like a sillier sister piece to Visconti’s excellent ‘Bellissima’ (1951).
Director Luigi Filippo D’Amico keeps everything lively without indulging in stylish excess, although there is one spectacular shot of the multiple balconies of an apartment block casting geometric shadows that Antonioni would’ve killed for, but it’s D’Amico’s deft use of sound and voices for comedic purposes that leaves the biggest impression.
‘Bravissimo’ is frivolous, lightweight and a tad uneven but it’s also utterly delightful, kinda sweet and frequently hysterically funny. Alberto Sordi and Chuck Jones fans will love it.
