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Correction to This Article
A review of the Italian film "Bread and Tulips" in the Aug. 24 Weekend section failed to mention that the movie is also playing at the Cinema Arts Theatre in Fair City Mall.
Movies

'Bread & Tulips,' a Bouquet of Simple Pleasures

By Stephen Hunter
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, August 24, 2001; Page C04

In a world notably lacking in gentle surprises, it's quite a pleasure to celebrate one.

That's "Bread and Tulips": nicely done, sweet, delicately comic and a complete delight.

Licia Maglietta stars as Rosalba, the Italian housewife who seeks a new lease on life in "Bread and Tulips."

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'Bread and Tulips' Showtimes

No big claims should be made for this film. In fact, the more it's trumpeted, the smaller it may become. But in the neglected field of household comedy, it's a peach.

Rosalba Barletta (Licia Maglietta) is a put-upon Roman housewife who is so busy she hasn't had time to notice that she's put upon, by a husband and two sons who are too demanding to pay her much attention, except to complain when the service she provides is interrupted.

That comes when, on vacation with her family at some Greek ruins in Italy, she misses the bus and nobody notices.

She decides to hitchhike home. That road takes her by Venice and since she's never been to Venice (and nobody in her family would take her there), she decides on a day trip and winds up in the most romantic city on Earth.

And here's the joke: The director, Silvio Soldini, doesn't notice. This isn't the fabled Venice of canals and gondolas; it's a scabby city where the great waterways are only glimpsed in passing. That's because Soldini is more interested in the intimacy of character than the empty spectacle of a tourist city.

Rosalba, an earthy, decent, attractive woman, simply and accidentally falls into a bunch of lives and brings into each one of them something absent: love, lightness, charm, wit and, above all, hope. An Italian waiter (Bruno Ganz) who puts her up turns out to be a suicidal Icelandic singer, in despair because he's lost the love of his son. A florist who gives her a job is a fiery anarchist, liberated by her attention. The next-door neighbor, a masseuse, finds love through her ministrations.

Again I say: not big, not flashy, not pushy, not clever. Just decent and loving, like Rosalba herself.

Bread and Tulips (PG-13, 105 minutes)contains sexual suggestiveness. At Visions Cinema Bistro.


© 2001 The Washington Post Company