Arsenevich: Marco Ferreri e Isidoro M. Ferry

Sátirica tragicomedia sobre una pareja de novios en declive y sus problemas de conseguir un piso en alquiler que se ajustara a su presupuesto.

Hace falta ser extranjero para captar tan a fondo la mala leche española... Porque negra, negrísima comedia es El pisito, mediante la que el italiano Marco Ferreri introducía el neorrealismo en España, con la ayuda de Rafael Azcona, quien, a su vez, adaptaba una novela suya. En este sentido, la galería de tipos que desfilan ante la pantalla en apenas setenta y cinco minutos pone de manifiesto lo más sórdido de una sociedad que lidiaba como podía la carestía económica y, sobre todo, en materia de vivienda.

Junto con Los chicos y El cochecito, un año posterior, Ferreri debutaba por la puerta grande en un país que no era el suyo, pero cuya esencia logró captar como nadie. Porque la verdadera tragedia (que no comedia) de Rodolfo (José Luis López Vázquez) y Petrita (Mary Carrillo) es la de sucumbir a la miseria moral que les rodea ante la imposibilidad de sobrevivir por otros medios.

Varios aspectos hacen de El pisito una película singular. Por una parte, hay escenas en las que, como en la vida real, se mantienen varias conversaciones simultáneas. Es también un film en el que predominan los ambientes oscuros y opresivos, en un afán de subrayar las estrecheces (monetarias y espaciales) de quienes se ven obligados a malvivir en apenas unos cuantos metros cuadrados cochambrosos. Y es, por último, destacable el uso que se hace de la banda sonora, con el contraste generado entre la música de jazz y el machacón organillo madrileño que tanto contribuye a ambientar la historia.~~ tomado del blog Cinefília Sant Miquel

The Little Apartment

Satire about a couple in decline and their problems of getting an apartment to rent that fits their budget.

To judge from El pisito, an excessively noisy, dark comedy directed by Marco Ferreri, New York City's real estate squeeze in the 1980's was nothing compared with Madrid's in the 1950's. In the movie's vision of real estate hell, middle-class people who can't afford modern housing -- and that seems to be almost everyone -- often live eight to an apartment in a space that is more appropriate for two. Because of overcrowding, thin ceilings and frequently raised voices, apartment living often borders on bedlam.

Rodolfo (Jose Luis Lopez Vazquez), a novelty-store clerk, is a typical victim of the squeeze. Along with several others, he leases a room in the four-room apartment of Dona Martina (Concha Lopez Silva), a crotchety woman in her 80's who is dying.

Until he can afford his own place, Rodolfo cannot marry Petrita (Mary Carrillo), his increasingly embittered fiancee of 12 years. So desperate has the situation grown that Petrita persuades her meek boyfriend to propose to Dona Martina. If he marries her, he can inherit the apartment at its current affordable rent. When Rodolfo balks, Petrita takes matters into her own hands and forces the arrangement.

Although its style borders on farce, the underlying tone of El pisito is unsparingly harsh and often jarringly loud. In the screenplay by Mr. Ferreri and Rafael Azcona, Dona Martina is routinely referred to as "the old hag." Rodolfo is a weakling who drinks too much wine and is easily bullied by Petrita, whom he tells his friends he doesn't care for her anymore.

Petrita, who sees her life and her dreams slipping away, is alternately pitiful and monstrous. After initially being dismissed by Dona Martina as a hussy, she cannily wins over the old woman and drives a hard financial bargain. In one of the movie's nastiest scenes, she inspects the apartment as though it were already hers and spits out her contempt at how ugly and dirty it is. Miss Carrillo's performance -- the best in the movie -- is as bluntly hard-edged as her formidable character.

As the movie makes abundantly clear, the years of waiting and frustration have so curdled the relationship between Rodolfo and Petrita that any chances of their finding happiness have vanished long ago. Their home sweet home promises to be a miserable battleground. (NYT)