Criterion Reflections is David Blakeslee’s ongoing project to watch all of the films included in the Criterion Collection in chronological order of their original release. Each episode of Season 5: 1973 features a short video clip in which David offers a few thoughts about films that were destined to eventually bear the Criterion imprint, whether published on physical media or made available on their streaming platform. These clips will occasionally be accompanied by lengthier podcast episodes including other guests for films that call for more in-depth coverage. In this first episode of Season 5, David discusses The Age of the Medici, directed by Roberto Rossellini. The film is available on DVD in the Criterion Collection’s Eclipse Series and also streams on the Criterion Channel. The video clip below was recorded in January 2024. A segment from a past episode of The Eclipse Viewer featuring David and Trevor Berrett’s discussion of The Age of the Medici recorded in October 2014 is also included here.

This essay is an update of David’s 2011 review of the film published on this site.

Upon winning the Venice Film Festival’s Golden Lion Award in 1959 for Il Generale Della Rovere, the artistically ambitious yet self-deprecating director Roberto Rossellini soon afterwards expressed ambivalence toward that film, despite its indisputable success. It wasn’t too much further along into his career that the great pioneer of Neorealism, after proving that he could crank out a hit movie if he really wanted to, finally turned his back on commercial aspirations, choosing instead to produce films on his own terms that attempted to elevate the consciousness and inform the intellect of his audience, or at least those who chose to make the effort to follow wherever his vision led.

That decision resulted in a radical shift in direction for Rossellini for the final phase of his life’s work. From that point forward, Rossellini focused on films that sought to capture the essential ideas, technological breakthroughs and cultural milestones of centuries long past that continue to wield a powerful influence on our contemporary world. Three of those films are presented to us in Eclipse Series 14: Rossellini’s History Films – Renaissance and Enlightenment. They’re among his last productions, all shot and released in the early 1970s. In this clip, I’ll focus on the longest of the set by taking a pilgrimage in time, back to The Age of the Medici.

If you’re new to these films, here’s what you’re in for: a drily performed, historically detailed and highly literate re-enactment of pivotal episodes in the unfolding of European civilization, especially in regard to the development of the “big ideas” that shaped the modern society we now take for granted. True to the convictions of a man who could state sincerely that “cinema is dead,” Rossellini makes no attempt in these films to stir our emotions through conventional plot devices or hook us in via charismatic personalities, dramatic narrative twists or any of the usual ploys that gratify the crowds. He knew, with supreme confidence, that the subjects of his study were important in their own right, with little need for manipulative embellishments. If that significance was not readily self-evident to members of his audience, he was content to let them go their own way, distracting themselves with their banal entertainments until they were capable of recognizing the value of the hefty substance he placed before them. And if that sounds haughty, arrogant, pretentious to you, then go ahead and stop reading right now. You’re simply not ready to dig into The Age of the Medici, let me be the first to tell you.

Of course, summing up the conflicts of an era as complex and multi-faceted as the emergence of what we now refer to as The Renaissance in 15th century Florence, Italy requires a large canvas, which is why Rossellini delivers this history in a video approximation of one of the favored artistic formats of that era, the triptych. The Age of the Medici is a three-part TV miniseries, each episode focusing our gaze on an important element of a larger story. Part 1, “The Exile of Cosimo,” chronicles the rise of Cosimo de Medici, head of a prominent merchant family whose uncanny business sense enlarged his fortune to the point where he was able to wield massive power and influence, not through the authority of the church or by brandishing the raw military might of monarchs, but through the uniquely persuasive effects of cold hard cash. The series opens with Cosimo attending his father’s funeral, learning the terms of his inheritance, and then swiftly setting in motion the machinations to put that money to work, advancing his personal leverage to steer the course of his own destiny, and in the process, shape the future of European civilization. The Medici were forerunners of today’s ultrarich, able to bend the forces of law, politics, religion, art, culture and even science in ways that favored their ambitions and solidified their grip on power.

Of course, no would-be giant among men makes his way to the top without facing his share of formidable obstacles, and Cosimo found his adversary in Rinaldo degli Albizzi, head of the rival Florentine clan who mistrusted the Medicis’ motives and sought the means to cast them as disreputable, or even criminals, if they could only find appropriately damning evidence to back up their suspicions.

But before we get into a necessarily brief recap of the storyline, a few words are in order about the verisimilitude with which Rossellini captures the spirit of old Florence. As the screencaps show, he had to resort to some creative-but-cheap special effects that some might find cheesy, but I consider admirable. Clearly working on a limited budget, Rossellini had no ability to build suitably convincing replicas of either the Florentine skyline circa 1430 or the several stages of progress achieved in Cosimo’s lifetime on the facade and dome of the Basilica Santa Maria del Fiore. He resorted to hand-painted 2-D mockups that don’t really convince anyone, but they’re brave efforts in any case. Watching the cathedral transition from rough wooden structure to something resembling the ornate extravagance we’ve come to associate with the Renaissance over the course of four and a half hours is one of the small pleasures I enjoyed. And don’t worry, there are more than enough authentic examples of period architecture and costumery to satisfy Renaissance purists. Though Rossellini doesn’t allow his camera to revel in the scenery the way a director like Franco Zeffirelli did, I have no complaints; the settings are often quite wonderful to behold.

A main theme of the series is the slipperiness and malleability of supposedly eternal principles like law and ethics. This dialog-heavy script requires some close listening and even supplemental reading in order to pick up all the nuances it contains. The gist of it though is how increasingly sophisticated (or you could say, hypocritical) the various powers-that-be are forced to become in order to maintain the appearance of respect for ancient religious traditions (for example, the prohibitions against usury) while crafting legal loopholes such as those allowing merchants to operate pawn shops. Those who have agreed to pay a financial penalty and assume the social status of moral reprobates are signified by a red drape on their storefront, in effect given legal permission to break sacred law, reaping tidy profits for both entrepreneurs and the city fathers, and leaving matters of conscience to the individual shopkeepers to sort out for themselves.

Building on such evasive tricks so neatly woven into the emerging economic order, the stage is set to observe how Cosimo maneuvers his way through the legal, religious, and political snares set before him. When his capitalistic instincts lead him to oppose a conflict between Florence and a neighboring city-state (because war is bad for business), he’s scapegoated by the Albizzis after the battle goes poorly and the Florentine forces are routed. Cosimo is summoned to appear before the Signoria, the local council of magistrates, where he faces certain arrest, imprisonment, and possible execution. But Cosimo unwaveringly faces his accusers, intently pursuing a high-stakes experiment to see if his economic clout is able to produce the result he thinks it ought.

And so it turns out that, even within the confines of his lonesome prison cell, Cosimo somehow has the means to arrange for a messenger to visit his captor and drop off a gift, a simple leather bag stuffed with gold coins. And wouldn’t you know, in the very next scene, prisoner and magistrate are seated at the same table, passing knives back and forth to each other, warmly negotiating the terms of a settlement bound to disappoint those who