DEATH OF A CYCLIST: THE CRITERION COLLECTION - DVD review

Like many directors in the 50s and 60s, Juan Antonio Bardem (Javier's uncle) was influenced by the power of neo-realism to express reality in a direct way that foregrounded social context over story structure. "Death of a Cyclist" (1955) uses neo-realist strategies in the service of a Hitchcockian thriller that also allows the communist director to comment on the class struggle in Franco's Spain.

The film kicks off with an adulterous couple driving home at night, likely from a recent tryst. Rounding a curve, the car hits a bicycle rider. Juan (Alberto Closas) races out of the car to discover that the man is alive. His first inclination is to reach out to the man, but Juan's lover Maria Jose (Lucia Bosé) impatiently shouts his name. After all, nobody has seen them, so what's the problem? Juan doesn't resist her call for long and returns to the car. It is telling that in this scene we never see the cyclist's face.

The rest of the film follows the guilty pair on a path that leads to paranoia and betrayal. Though both of them are in it together, there is a crucial difference between the two: Juan is wracked with guilt, Maria Jose is simply afraid of being caught. Maria Jose's fear boils over when sleazy art critic Rafa (Carlos Casaravilla) blackmails her with the threat of revealing something he has seen: did he see the crime, or is he referring to something else? Juan, for his part, surreptitiously visits the dead cyclist's wife in a half-assed attempt to try to make amends for his cowardice, but doesn't find a solution that helps either the widow or his guilty conscience.

Up until this point, we are in familiar thriller territory but the film takes a surprising left turn. Juan is a university professor who, when distracted by his own guilty thoughts, humiliated one of his female students. It seems to be a thruway scene when it occurs but it changes both the course of the film and Juan's life. The students protest the girl's callous treatment and, in a campus riot, demand that Juan be fired from his job. Rather than plunging Juan further into despair, the scene buoys his spirits. Left bitterly scarred by the Spanish Civil War, Juan had long since abandoned faith in his fellow man. Inspired by the collective fervor of the young rebels, he sees the world in a different light, and decides on the spot that he must turn himself in. The trick, however, is convincing the spoiled-rotten Maria Jose, who has definitely not experience an epiphany, to see things the same way.

As you can imagine, it was not easy to be an outspoken Communist under the Franco regime. Bardem had recently been imprisoned when "Death of a Cyclist" won the FIPRESCI prize at Cannes. Bardem was not cowed; in the same year he issued a fiery manifesto (along with several other filmmakers) denouncing the short-comings of Spanish cinema. In his words Spanish cinema was "Politically ineffective, socially false, intellectually worthless, aesthetically non-existent, and industrially crippled." Though his criticism was directed pointedly at cinema under Franco, he held "sixty years" of Spanish filmmaking equally culpable.

"Death of a Cyclist" is a rather odd attempt to break free of old traditions. Though it is clearly inspired by the then fresh and vital neorealist movement, it's also a rather standard potboiler. Not all of this is Bardem's fault. Due to censorship problems, he was forced to tack on a corny ending that, quite frankly, is so laughable it almost ruins any good the rest of the film accomplishes. Perhaps the absurdity of the finale was his way of flipping off the censors, but it's still a major problem. Likewise, Rafa's coincidental blackmail attempt is a classic bit of Hollywood contrivance designed as a cheap way to ratchet up the tension.

Still, the film's abrupt break with genre convention in the student riot scene marks it as something special. It's a stirring tribute to the power of the people, and holds up the promise of youthful idealism and fervor as the ultimate cure for institutionalized oppression. Bardem was a passionate director who believed in a cinema of ideas, and he lays it all on the line in this daring scene. Many of his later films (which I haven't seen) have been criticized as being too didactic, but that's certainly not a problem with "Death of a Cyclist" which weaves its "message" seamlessly into the narrative.

Video

The film is presented in its original 1.33:1 full-screen aspect ratio. The image is picture-boxed meaning that some viewers will see thin black bars on the sides as well as the top and bottom. The digitally restored transfer shows some evidence of wear and tear, more than usual for a Criterion release, but the image is still sharp and does justice to the beautiful black and white photography by Alfredo Fraile.

Audio

The DVD is presented in Dolby Digital Mono. Optional English subtitles support the Spanish audio.

Extras

There is only one extra on the disc but it's an excellent one. "Calle Bardem" (44 minutes), directed by Alberto Leal, uses interviews with Bardem's collaborators as well as film critics to discuss the politically an aesthetically committed director's challenging career.

The insert booklet features an in-depth essay by scholar Marsha Kinder, and Bardem's 1955 manifesto for Spanish cinema.

Film Value

"Death of a Cyclist" is an unusual mix of neorealism and Hollywood genre filmmaking. Though marred by a hokey ending, the film still lays bare the divide between the haves and the have-nots in Franco's Spain while still providing hope for a better future. It's not a masterpiece, but it's certainly worth seeing.