The term “neorealism” denotes a different set of characteristics depending on whom you ask. Mr. Federico Fellini—known to film geeks as Il Maestro—auteured some of the most influential and often-cited examples of this essential moment in history. While 1954’s La Strada occupies more of the typical neorealism spotlight, his underrated feature from the year before, I Vitelloni, offers many of the same idiosyncrasies, only with a different presentation. The scattered, multi-faceted plot operates within a very solid and direct theme, which helps five or six different stories seem like a more cohesive, singular story. There is a very human study at work here, as a small group of very flawed men are presented in such a way that you really cannot help but feel sorry for them. As a mandate, no matter how we may try to mature, there will always be those among us who simply cannot deny their most primitive instincts.

These loafing bachelors often pass their time at pubs or down by the shore and may be found out-and-about at all hours of the evening. None of these dreamers hold any sort of steady work and live mainly by the blind and unfortunate generosity of others. All it ever takes in situations like this though is for one among them to essentially “move on” as you might say. Yet, even then, we see through that one’s new, self-proclaimed maturity to the adulterous, highly instinctual swinger underneath. Another among them, an aspiring playwright, finally catches the attention of his idol and, just when it seems like his dreams might be within reach, it becomes clear that he is not ready to overcome his own anxiety and youthful intuition. In the end, it becomes a story not of five friends, but of freedom versus responsibility and the fear of change.

As with all of Fellini’s work, one must take a moment to kneel in awe of the cinematography for which he is so well-known. I Vitelloni marks the second collaboration of Fellini (as director) and Otello Martelli, who would go on to shoot both La Strada and La Dolce Vita. The way Martelli would create such a disparaging, yet honest atmosphere was very dissimilar to the work done in Fellini’s later films, where there is a much more dreamlike element being emphasized. There is even one scene where one of the young men’s father is attempting to give his son a much-deserved thrashing and the camera angle is in the first-person perspective of the father. This is somewhat uncomfortable for the viewer who has many mixed feelings about these unfortunate, yet acceptably imperfect young men. But, then again, neorealism was never about making the viewer feel comfortable—it was about portraying undirected desperation in the face of human error or just plain bad luck. This was just one of the many whips Il Maestro could crack.