‘C’è Ancora Domani’, Neorealism, and the Right to Vote
In a year marked by significant elections, the right to vote is more important than ever. Perhaps no film has been able to demonstrate this more aptly than Paola Cortellesi’s 2023 directorial debut, C’è Ancora Domani (There’s Still Tomorrow), which poignantly captures this by focusing on the struggle Italian women faced to obtain and exercise their right to vote for the first time. C’è Ancora Domani vividly portrays their journey to finally having a voice in shaping their country’s future, and highlights the internal and external conflicts faced by women as they attempted to balance their established private duties with their newly founded public duties. Cortellesi, known predominantly for starring in comedies such as Come un gatto in tangenziale (Like a Cat on a Highway, 2017) and Scusate se Esisto! (Do You See Me?, 2014), does this by reimagining ideas of the classic Italian Neorealist genre for a modern audience.
Set in Rome, 1946, C’è Ancora Domani follows Delia, played by Cortellesi, and her family, in the days prior to the the election of the Constituent Assembly, where Italians would decide the future of their country – to maintain the status quo as a monarchy, or establish a new identity as a parliamentary republic. The aftermath of the Second World War, along with the devastation and adverse poverty it caused to the lives of the Italian people, charged the need for radical change. On the 2nd and 3rd of June 1946, the people went to the polling stations to cast their vote on the fate of their country. This would mark the first election in which Italian women were also permitted to vote, placing their voices on the public stage for the first time.
Cortellesi tells a very ordinary story about the lives of a working class family in a deprived suburb of Rome by employing elements of the classic neorealist genre. Neorealism predominantly developed in Italy following the Second World War, with a focus on capturing the reality of the economic and physical destruction of Italy. Working class families and individuals were at the focal point, often played by amateur actors found from the local area, creating an air of reality to the struggles portrayed. During the fascist regime, Duce Benito Mussolini introduced the Istituto Luce to censor media production in Italy. It was illegal for a broadcaster to laugh on the EIAR, the public service broadcaster, as it threatened, in the words of Millicent Marcus, “the official, carefully orchestrated, and dead serious perspective of Fascist authority.”
The fall of Mussolini allowed the neorealists to outwardly challenge the State and expose its neglect of the working class and the pervasive poverty experienced throughout the country, whilst vehemently objecting to the authoritarianism of the past. Roberto Rossellini’s War Trilogy, comprised of Rome Open City (Roma Città Aperta, 1945), Paisan (Paisà, 1946), and Germany Year Zero (Germania Anno Zero, 1948) present well-known examples of neorealism, shot on location throughout the destroyed cities of Italy and Germany, forcing audiences to confront their contemporary lives. The works of other Italian directors of the time such as Vittorio de Sica and Luchino Visconti are attributed to the rise of neorealism in Italian cinema, illustrating the post-war after effects on the lives of working people. C’è Ancora Domani takes us back to that time, offering a lens through which to draw comparisons with our world today.
Delia is a working class woman who makes ends meet for her husband and three children by working several jobs throughout the neighbourhood. She is a nurse for a wealthy family, she does sewing work for various businesses, she washes laundry for the affluent. What little money she does make is reported back to Ivano (Valerio Mastandrea), her abusive, formidable husband. After work, she goes to the market, relinquishing the little free time she has with the other women in the neighbourhood. They gossip, they negotiate the price of vegetables, they sit to relax when they can. When the time comes, Delia makes her way back home, to maintain the upkeep of her small, rickety apartment, performing the domestic tasks expected of her. It is a cycle that she cannot escape, like millions of women at the time.
Cortellesi is inspired by elements of the neorealist genre to capture the essence of post-war Italy; shot in black and white, we immediately feel a sense of historical authenticity. The film’s working class focus, portrayed through a pocket of Delia’s life, is reminiscent of that seen in works such as Ettore Scola’s Una Giornata Particolare (A Special Day, 1977) where Antonietta’s (Sophia Loren) role as an unhappy housewife is placed at the forefront.
C’è Ancora Domani is also intensely political, the 1946 election ever nearing, which would mark an enhancement of the role of women in public society – two years later, they could finally pass down de jure citizenship to their children. This political context invites us to draw connections with contemporary society, prompting reflections on the challenges that remain towards gender equality.
Whilst elements of neorealism can be discerned from C’è Ancora Domani, it would be wrong to suggest that this is neorealism in its most traditional sense. Cortellesi noted in an interview with Sight & Sound that she “wanted to adopt a certain type of language to treat a very contemporary subject and make a contemporary film.” C’è Ancora Domani is without a doubt a contemporary film. Domestic violence is transformed into stylised dance, accompanied by soft jazz. Outkast is played as the camera tracks Delia’s escape to the polling station. The apartment is designed theatrically; floodlights and spotlights appear on cue.
The private relationship between mother and daughter is intricately explored throughout the film. Marcella (Romana Maggiora Vergano), Delia’s eldest daughter, is quickly forced to understand the role of a woman in their community. Like many Italian girls, she does not go to school and primarily speaks the local dialect rather than standard Italian, linguistically confining her to the small town she was born in.
Marcella becomes engaged to a boy called Giulio (Francesco Centorame), the son of a wealthy family that owns the local bar. What starts as an endearing relationship soon turns sour; Giulio becomes short-tempered and intimidating when alone with Marcella. Delia begins to witness this, and recognises the similarities with her own relationship to Ivano. She enlists the aid of William (Yonv Joseph), an American soldier still based in the area, and hatches a plan to end the engagement.
Marcella witnesses her mother’s relationship too and, like the other children, she sees and hears the physical and emotional abuse their father inflicts. The moments between them are intimate and authentic; Cortellesi takes inspiration from the real women in her life and the stories she has shared with them. She said that she “wanted to cast a light on what has changed and what has remained the same – and what has remained the same is the toxic mentality that, unfortunately, forces us to still be talking about these subjects.” In this sense, she tells a generational story of the moments shared between mother and daughter, and the cyclical nature of domestic violence experienced by women of all ages.
C’è Ancora Domani convincingly blends classical neorealism with the contemporary, offering a poignant reflection of the resilience of women in post-war Italy. By situating Delia’s story against the backdrop of the 1946 election, Cortellesi is able to illuminate the personal and societal challenges confronting women and the continuing struggles they face. This homage to neorealism shines a light on the personal stories of ordinary women, and is a powerful narrative of resistance and the relentless pursuit of change.
The past may be used to interpret the present; reminding us that the fight for equality and justice is far from over, inspiring action and giving voices to women who for so long were voiceless. Through her directorial debut, Paola Cortellesi calls for the acknowledgement of the issues at present, forcing each of us to also confront the deficiencies in the past. The title, “There’s Still Tomorrow”, not only reassures Delia that she has another day to vote, when her private life makes it impossible for her to do so, but reminds us that there is still hope for an equitable future for women across the world.
Recommended for you: Where to Start with Italian Neorealism
Written by Jenson Davenport
You can follow Jenson Davenport on Letterboxd: /jensoon.
