The Bicycle thief
Vittorio De Cica
Life and career; Born into poverty in Sora, Lazio (in either 1901 or 1902 - sources are divided) , he began his career as a theatre actor in the early 1920s and joined Tatiana Pavlova's theatre company in 1923. In 1933 he founded his own company with his wife Giuditta Rissone and Sergio Tofano. The company performed mostly light comedies, but they also staged plays by Beaumarchais, and worked with famous directors like Luchino Visconti. His meeting with Cesare Zavattini was a very important event: together they created some of the most celebrated films of the neorealistic age, like Sciuscià (Shoeshine) and Ladri di biciclette (Bicycle Thieves, released as The Bicycle Thief in the U.S.A.) , both of which De Sica directed. De Sica is more well-known in the UK for appearing in the TV series The Four Just Men produced by Sapphire Films and distributed by ITC Entertainment, originally broadcast in 1959.
I have walked more than fifteen miles
As the doctor said if I want to live long
Walk as much as I can.
Almost tired and I saw a desperate bicycle at the roadside.
It's not locked and when I reached there
This miraculous cycle talked;
'Go ahead! '
I rode home and it's close upon midnight.
I stopped on the way to buy a loaf of bread
And Aunt Jemina's original bottle of syrup.
(My beloved make pan cakes for the breakfast.)
It's not there when I returned from the shop.
I laughed and murmured to myself;
'O my sin has been cancelled already
And I have no regrets anymore,
The total profit goes for you
And be the winner of the race! '
*God gives the nuts, but he does not crack them.
-Old Proverb
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
I've lost all my money on these films. They are not commercial. But I'm glad to lose it this way. To have for a souvenir of my life pictures like Umberto D. and The Bicycle Thief.
quote by Vittorio De Sica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My White Bicycle
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
Riding all around the street
Four oclock and theyre all asleep
Im not tired and its so late
Moving fast everything looks great.
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
See that man, hes all alone
Looks so happy but hes far from home
Ring my bell, smile at him
Better kick over his garbage bin
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
The rain comes down but I dont care
The wind is blowing in my hair
Seagulls flying in the air
My white bicycle
Lead:
Policeman shouts but I dont see him
Theyre one thing I dont believe in
Find some judge, but its not leavin
Lift both hands, his head in disgrace
Shines no light upon my face
Through the darkness, we still speed
My white bicycle and me
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
(burgess/west)
Getaway music
Copyright 1975 nazareth (dunfermline) ltd
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red BMX Bicycle
There was a small boy
In the countryside
Who had a small red BMX bicycle
Kept in the store besides the herbicides
Every evening like a cycle
He would ride down the dusty road
The sun a yellow ball
on the west side
Glittering under the sun`s rays
Was that small
RED BMX BICYCLE
There was a smaller boy
In the countryside
Who had nothing…
Totally nothing
He was a friend to the small boy
Every evening like a cycle
He would wait by the dusty road
To have a chance
On the small red BMX bicycle
His face would be all smiles
Even after falling off that
RED BMX BICYCLE
One day at dusk
The smaller boy
Stood next to the small boy
And asked
“When you grow up, would you give me this bike? ”
The small boy without thinking
Said YES..
There was a smaller boy
In the countryside
One night
He had a bad stomach ache
His mum wiping the tiny streams of tears
That fell from his small face
That was pale…
Due to dust from the dusty road
As he played with his the small boy
And rode on that
RED BMX BICYCLE
There was a small boy
In the countryside…
Now HE is all grown
And in the university
Far away in the city
That RED BMX BICYCLE
Now long gone
Given to some relative, I guess
If I could go back
To those days…
Those days with beautiful sunsets
Back in the countryside
Waiting for my chance
On my red BMX bicycle
Watching that smaller boy fall off
I would give him…
I would hand him that bicycle
And never expect it back
And watch him ride
Towards the beautiful sunset
On my red BMX bicycle
But if I can go back
All will be in vain
Because on that night…in the dark
He struggled with pain
His small heart couldn`t keep on
Outside there was rain
The gods possibly wanted to cleanse
All the evil that night
That took him away
Now I reminisce
As I keep moving on
About that smaller boy
And our small
RED BMX BICYCLE…
poem by Paul Oguda
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Maria By Callas
Fanny Ardant, Maria Callas, Aristotle Onassis, Vittorio De Sica, Pier Paolo Pasolini, Luchino Visconti, Omar Sharif, Brigitte Bardot, Elvira de Hidalgo, Jacqueline Kennedy, Giovanni Battista Meneghini
from Maria By Callas (2017)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Immortals Of The Silver Screen - Laurel and Hardy
This the beginning of a series
in which I’ll pay tribute to
some of my silver screen heroes.
First in the series just has to be
the best and the most loved
comedy duo who ever lived.
They have filled our world with laughter
while they were alive,
and are still doing it now
after they are long gone.
They were stars in their own right,
but together they soared to new heights.
They inspired a generation of comedians then
and they are inspiring generations now.
Two very talented men,
one from England - Stan Laurel.
One from America - Oliver Hardy.
Although their credits
do not always appear on their films,
they were a lot more than mere actors.
They wrote, directed and produced
hundreds and hundreds of films.
They first met as actor and director.
As Stan directed many of Oliver’s early films.
It was Mack Sennett who really set the world alight
when he put them together under the camera and spotlight.
He didn’t realise what he had done when he put together a team
who became friends, best friends
until death took both of them away.
This is just a small tribute from one of the millions
who have derived pleasure
from these two immortals
whose laughter will live on forever.
26 December 2007
poem by David Harris
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A Bicycle Poem
do not worry how the bicycle looks
ride it.
do not think how the wheel and its
spokes work
do not attempt to understand its structure
ride it.
do not think how the other people looks at
you with your bicycle
just ride it.
when you are riding it already
just feel the joy of the air that meets your face
the speed by which it takes you
to another destination
just ride it, disembark when you get there
you do not even have to own it and keep it for the rest of your life
when you get old
remember that bicycle that once gave you all the joys of riding
before you die
give it to the young
they shall have their own joys too
riding it
and perhaps they will write a poem about you
or if not
about the bicycle at least
who knows?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Racing to another world
One afternoon in Bedfordview, Johannesburg
we were leaving to go to a restaurant
and were in the parking lot at work,
when a black man on a bicycle
came down the hill
in Kirkby avenue,
pedalling as if possessed
and racing to another world.
He passed the motorbike
of a Links Pharmacy delivery man
and went as fast
as a racing bicycle could go
and at the t-junction
with oxford street
took a forty five degree turn
at great speed.
The man had a blazer on
and was still pedalling
as he took the turn
and the jacket opened
on his sides like wings,
before he hit the
stone edge of the road
and went straight
into a sign warning
about a stop street up ahead.
With arms spread out
like a human scarecrow,
or a shop mannequin,
he hanged with the jacket
on the sign,
as if dead
while the bicycle somersaulted
before landing against
some white stemmed blue gum trees.
Kids playing in the park were astounded
and and the people with me
and I laughed,
while he stayed motionless
hanging in the air
and other people gathered there.
l’Envoi
Within minutes an ambulance stopped
and I started feeling guilty about laughing
while they laid him down,
tried to help him in vain,
pulled a grey blanket over his body and head
and took the bicycle along
on the ride to the morgue.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wandsbek
Written credentials,
Letters of recommendation,
Here i am today with the muse of my love!
For, life is not like a bicycle.
Renewed,
Original from me;
But adequate enough to think like Wandsbek your lover!
And, being transformed because of love;
For, life is not like a bicycle.
The same image,
The same love,
The same care,
The same romance,
The same passion;
And like the light of this message,
But, this world is led by Satan!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mr. Radio
(written by Roderick Taylor)
Oh, what a sunny day
When they carried the radio home
Bringing him in off the truck
And the dogs wouldn't leave us alone
Mr. Radio, you come down here to keep us company
We listen in a room
Through the miles and miles of night
Deep in the heart of the Bible belt
In the golden radio light
Mr. Radio, you come down here to keep us company
And it's hard days out in the field
The crows in the high tree top
If a man's away from his home all day
His chickens might fall to the fox
Mr. Radio, what can you do about that?
Uh huh
And you can take me down to a river town
Where the citizens dance till dawn
They dance so close it's a sin almost
The way they carry on
Mr. Radio, I never dreamed you could
And it's miles at the careless touch
Of a tired hand in time
When evening fell I heard a strange sell
Dreams that were never mine
Mr. Radio, you come down here to keep us company
You come down here to keep us company
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The journey of life is like a man riding a bicycle. We know he got on the bicycle and started to move. We know that at some point he will stop and get off. We know that if he stops moving and does not get off he will fall off.
quote by William Golding
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What That Little Boy Was Praying For
Evening
Sun is almost set
Its weak beams still
Making road side sand grains glitter
I was on a walk to a temple nearby
A scratching brake of a bicycle
Made me look up
A boy of not even ten years the bicycle rider
Stopped his bicycle
In front of the temple entrance
Not getting down form it
Closed his eyes, clasped his palms
Started a prayer
He was in that posture
For much longer than
What a passerby normally does
Turning curious I continued to watch him
Forgetting for a while my purpose of this walk
Since the boy was in the middle
Of that narrow lane
A car stopped behind him
A bike passed by him
Sounding a shrill horn
A street dog barked at the bike
Car also gave a horn
Nothing left in the boy any sign of disturbance
It would have been a full minute
Before the boy woke up to realities
And started his ride
Without even glancing those
Who were watching him
I left the scene and entered the temple
What that little boy was praying for
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets.
quote by Christopher Morley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the one hand, young theatre directors were coming to television theatre, because they wanted to get closer to the cinema, despite having studied and worked for the theatre.
quote by Andrzej Wajda
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bad Company
Company, always on the run
Destiny is the rising sun
I was born six gun in my hand
Behind the gun I make my final stand
That's why they call me
Bad company, I can't deny
Bad, bad company
'Til the day I die
Rebel soul, deserters we are called
Chose a gun and threw away the sword
Now these towns, they all know our names
Six gun sound is our claim to fame
I can hear 'em say
Bad company, and I won't deny
Bad, bad company
'Til the day I die
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't rehearse films as much as opera or theatre. When I began directing films I thought a long rehearsal was a good idea. Experience showed me that the best performance was often left in a rehearsal room.
quote by Bruce Beresford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When my career first began, I didn't have children - so there's a whole lot of difference in the way I choose roles now. Not just films for my children, but how long I'm going to be away, and is Dad going to be home while I'm gone. That sort-of factor plays a part.
quote by Amy Irving
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A five miles turn
It was after a while
You had a new bicycle
Ocean blue with tri-colors stripes
Six speeds and a gear pipe
Your 14th birthday gift
Another miles adrift
Bridging our distance
Is a five miles turn
Ocean blue bicycle
You come with a smile
Spends time in my cubicle
With your usual style
Smooth talking
We study
We kiss
Another day would be promising
Orgy
What bliss
A five miles turn
And awaiting kiss
Would churn
The tender hearts
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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If I can bicycle, I bicycle.
quote by David Attenborough
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boxing Day Blues
My dad got on his bicycle to ride to Spondon village,
to say Happy Christmas to his dear old mum.
He rode across the fields and by the River Derwent,
it was a frosty morning, but bright in the sun.
He left the riverside and climbed up by the bridge
onto the carriageway and along the cycle path.
At the railway crossing he cut off down the lane,
by the scrap dealers and an old tin bath.
Across the level crossing by the side of the station
over the canal bridge and pass the Moon Hotel.
Onward towards Lodge Lane and his next turn right
where he hit the pavement and very nearly fell.
Number two Willowcroft Road was his destination,
he wasn’t expected, so his mum would be surprised.
Catching his breath for a second at the open back door,
his mother said, “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Happy Christmas mum, ” he said as he kissed her cheek.
“Happy Christmas George, I’ll make a fresh pot of tea.”
As they sat chatting, his brothers came through the door,
“Happy Christmas George, ” said Frank, Jim and Alfie.
“George, have you got time to come for a drink?
We’re going for a bevy down the Moon.
We’ll also have a laugh and a few hands of cards,
and generally enjoy the afternoon.”
He said he had and kissed his mum goodbye,
and off they walked down to the Moon.
They were pleased and happy to be together again
and arrived at the pub exactly at noon.
Now my dad was by no means a drinking man
and one Milk Stout was all he would drink,
but when The Moon closed that afternoon,
he had more than one too many I think.
Happily, he said goodbye to his brothers,
as he mounted his bicycle to ride home.
His balance was decidedly questionable
and more so when he rode over a stone.
As he cycled his stomach began churning
and his head began to spin inside.
By the riverside he fell off his bicycle
and vomited on the grass where he lied.
He managed to straighten the seat and handlebars,
and remounted his bicycle once again,
but twice more he fell off his two wheeled steed
before his front wheel got stuck in a drain.
For safety sake he pushed his bicycle along Taylor Street
and down the entry by the side of the house.
With the utmost care he placed his bicycle in the shed
whilst trying to be as quiet as a mouse.
But this mouse was unusually incredibly noisy,
as mum opened and looked out of the door.
“George, have you been drinking with your brothers? ”
“Yes dear, but I’m not going to any more.”
He then said that he didn’t want his dinner,
and fell asleep whilst watching TV.
When he awoke from his snoring slumber
he realised he hadn’t got his false teeth.
He asked my mum if she had seen them,
and she told him that she had not.
Maybe he had put them in his pocket,
or put them somewhere he’d forgot.
A horrible sense of panic came over him,
maybe they came out when he was sick?
He decided to check, so mounted his bicycle
after giving it a hefty kick.
When he arrived where he had vomited,
the sick has soaked into the ground,
and there lying on the grass were his teeth
smiling, as though glad to be found.
poem by Orlando Belo
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I started off in a small theatre performance company and worked my way into commercials.
quote by Devon Sawa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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