In post-World War II Italy, a family sells their bedsheets to pawn for a bicycle. Head of the family Antonio Ricci needs this bike for a new job that is expected to provide for the family and reverse their fortune. On Antonio’s first day of work the bike is stolen and he takes off after the thief, losing the crook in the bustle of Rome. Antonio, and son Bruno, spend the rest of the film in search for the missing bike as frustration, hopelessness, and self-pity drives Antonio to recklessness.
Italian charm, a loving family, and the mystique of old Rome couldn’t save this film from its stark, undressed portrayal of a bad day. Like an old-Italian “Breaking Bad”, this film is all character-devolution with none of the audience satisfaction. And yet, the more I sat on this one, the more I felt endeared to it. I’m sure there’s some background tale about coping with misplaced trust and hope in the wake of post-Mussolini Italy. But the foreground tale of a father who is trying his damndest to not look the fool in front of his son and wife and is failing miserably—it crushed me. But that’s art and that’s life.