Contrived plot makes Italy’s ‘Bread’ stale

Max Jacobson

Friday, Oct. 12, 2001 | 9:37 a.m.

Light romantic comedy has become a cliche in American cinema, but the concept still seems fresh in many films from Europe. In far too many U.S. films, the principals invariably meet cute and the end result is fait accompli; we know that fate will somehow bring them together in the end. That's the way most of our romantic comedies go, from "Sleepless in Seattle" to the current "Serendipity."

"Bread and Tulips," known by its Italian title "Pane e Tulipani," keeps you guessing right to the finish. It's the story of a bored housewife from the Adriatic Coast named Rosalba (the radiant Licia Maglietta) and her Odysseus-like journey, which leads her through unexplored territory to an uncertain fate. In a way, this film takes a page from the '70s classic "Diary of a Mad Housewife," which starred Carrie Snodgress. No one, least of all a wife and mother, likes to be taken for granted, and the consequences of so doing can be most unexpected.

What triggers events in this film is something relatively innocent. Rosalba is on a bus tour with her husband Mimmo (Antonio Catania) and son, when she is left behind at an Autogrill, Italy's version of a truck stop. Angry and humiliated, she decides to hitchhike home, and, after a series of uneventful rides, winds up in Venice, a city she has never visited. She is without money or friends, so she calls her flabbergasted husband, telling him she will be back the following afternoon.

Late that evening she befriends a lonely Icelandic waiter named Fernando (Bruno Ganz, who American audiences may remember from Wim Wenders' "Wings of Desire"). Fernando is at the end of his rope, literally, when Rosalba walks into his life.

Rosalba gets Fernando to offer her a spare room in his grubby, depressing apartment. She then proceeds to rearrange his life, first cleaning and brightening his apartment, then getting him in touch with his long-lost happiness. Days, perhaps weeks, pass. The time frame is never made clear.

Meanwhile Rosalba's husband is at the end of his rope, too. When his mistress refuses to iron his shirts, she protests, "I'm your mistress, not your wife." He dispatches a plumber-turned-detective named Constantino (Giuseppe Batiston) to find Rosalba. Batiston is a comedian in the same vein as the great American character actor Philip Seymour Hoffman. Whenever he is on screen, the film is fun.

Rosalba makes new friends in Venice. One of them is a ditzy masseuse named Grazia who eventually falls in love with Constantino. Another is an anarchist florist Fermo (Felice Andreasi) who gives her a job and provides the tulips that are the metaphor for much of the emotional marrow of the film.

The dialogue is rife with poetic minimalism. Fernando, though not Italian, speaks in flowery verse and everything he says sounds preternaturally wise. Rosalba's gift is to light up all the people she comes into contact with. Similar to the tulips she brings home to Fernando, she will blossom as a result.

It's all very nice and hopelessly romantic, unless you look at the underlying moral issues. For despite her indifferent, philandering husband, the main character is the mother of two sons, and abandoning her family becomes a major obstacle to her ultimate decision. Everyone sacrifices some romance and spontaneity when they commit to a family -- the question becomes to what extent self-indulgence is justifiable.

Perhaps the film wouldn't work were it not for wonderful performances by Maglietta and Ganz. Maglietta is a beautiful woman, but she is also d'une certaine age and looks it. It's admirable that Italian cinema doesn't mind featuring a woman who looks her age. And Ganz, the son of an Italian mother and a Swiss father, is regally poignant in the role of a lonely, poetic soul. His performance radiates morose grandeur and the chemistry between him and his co-star is undeniable.

But in the end, "Bread and Tulips" fails to achieve greatness, partially because it is too long, and also because certain plot contrivances seem forced. Venice, however, is a great location for a film. The city's morbid patina and exquisite beauty upstages even top-notch actors such as Ganz and Maglietta.