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Some of the most fascinating scenes in Roberto Rossellini’s Journey to Italy are the driving ones. Inside the car you have two iconic Hollywood stars discussing their marital woes and moving the faux-steering wheel far too much. Outside the car is living and breathing Italy. The contrast is rather startling: Artifice juxtaposed with reportage. Separated only by a thin metal shell. And once that shell is punctured, there is no going back. The chemistry of this couple cannot help but be altered by this outside influence of this ancient land where the past and the present commingle. Each voyage out yields new revelations. Revelations that cannot be simply brushed aside. Revelations that must be confronted. As in many of the best narratives, the two characters at the end of this film are not the same ones we met at the beginning. They have been forever changed. Only here, it's not the work of some contrived plot you've seen a million times before. Here it's something far more ineffable. And that's precisely what makes this a journey worth taking.
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