Nights of Cabiria (Fellini, 1957) tells the story of Cabiria, a young, feisty Italian woman who’s down on her luck when it comes to love.  She works as a prostitute, and while she may act tough on the outside, she’s revealed throughout the film to have a gentle spirit and a trusting heart.  The film is composed of events that make up Cabiria’s fancy free life, from going home with a famous movie star with relationship issues to going to church with her fellow prostitute friends.  In between these moments, there’s one in particular that stands out.  When Cabiria gets hypnotized by a magician at a magic show, she reveals her truest self.  This is when the audience gets to really see who Cabiria is.  The lighting choices throughout this scene highlight her innocence, while the character movement and score highlights her vulnerable nature, not only to the viewer of the film but also to the audience watching her.  This scene shows that the desire for human connection can lead innocent, downtrodden people to give all of themselves away- not because they have to, but because they want to. 

At the beginning of the scene, when the magician calls her up on stage from the crowd, Cabiria is her usual fireball self.  She talks back to the nagging audience every moment she gets, and she makes sure that she is heard.  She watches the men who were chosen before her become hypnotized, as they row an invisible boat out to sea fearing for their lives in the middle of an invisible hurricane.  They make complete fools of themselves, praying and throwing themselves on the floor and pretending to drown.  When it’s Cabiria’s turn, she doesn’t make a fool of herself.  Her hypnosis is deeply intrusive.  She reveals her innermost thoughts and desires, not to one person but to an audience. 

As soon as she gets hypnotized, she closes her eyes.  For the men, the camera was pointed towards them from the point of view of the audience.  Cabiria is facing away from the audience when she is hypnotized, at least in the beginning.  Because of this, the spotlight illuminates her from behind, creating a sheer aura.  Due to the point of view of the camera angle, the spotlight looks like it’s specifically on her, whereas from the audience’s point of view the spotlight takes up most of the space in the middle of the stage.  This choice was deliberate, to focus everything solely on her.  The lighting almost makes her appear angelic, which completely juxtaposes the devil horned hat that the magician was wearing when he lured her back on stage after he tells her that she’s about to meet someone named Oscar.  Besides that, the angelic lighting coupled with her docile reaction shows the audience (and the film viewers) her innocence.  There’s a stark difference between the lighting in the beginning, when Cabiria was telling off the audience and putting them in their place and the lighting while she’s under hypnosis.  This Cabiria is worlds apart from before, she’s calm and as the magician calls her, “elegant.” 

As she continues to stand in the same position in the center of the spotlight, the magician tells her to take Oscar’s arm.  He says this in the same way a parent speaks to a child, begging them almost to do as they say.  It’s not harsh, but manipulative.  He puts on a sad, begging voice, “come on, Signorina, take his arm.  There’s no harm in that.”  Even under hypnosis, Cabiria says, “but… we just met,” perhaps knowing that something felt wrong.  Yet, while she is saying this, she lifts her arm up, almost eagerly.  This is when her desire for love begins to reveal itself.  Without being told, she begins to mimic picking flowers, holding them up to the invisible Oscar.  When the magician asks her what her name is, she responds with her real name, Maria.  From the unprompted flower picking to the hasty hold on Oscar’s arm, her movement in this scene reveals her deep vulnerability or even, as said by the magician, her “gentle soul.”  

The score throughout the scene maintains a soft piano.  It’s gentle and calm, like Cabiria is at this moment.  It seems odd to think that the piano player at the magic show is playing theme music for this deeply personal moment, but it wouldn’t be surprising.  The music played by the piano, just like music in any movie or show, manipulates the audience.  Along with her actual vulnerable nature being revealed, there’s a soft, vulnerable piano song to go with it, completely peeling her back and revealing everything.  It makes the moment far too intimate, so much so that it’s uncomfortable to watch. The music changes slightly when Cabiria and Oscar dance to a “beautiful waltz.”  Instead of chords, it’s a waltz beat with added flute and string instruments but still incredibly gentle and soft.  It’s during the dancing scene that Cabiria, unprompted, talks about her younger self.  She tells Oscar that she used to have long, black hair when she was 18.  This one simple fact just seems wrong to hear- it’s not our information to have, nor is it the audience’s.  The music begins to fade when she asks, “so it’s true?”  Unlike the hypnotized men, Cabiria asks a series of questions at the end of her hypnosis.  The magician is taken by surprise as these questions also seem completely unprompted: “You love me?  It’s really true?  You’re not trying to fool me?  Do you really love me?”  At the end of that last question, the high pitched flute playing in the background stops abruptly, as if the magician, the cast of the magic show and the audience watching all realize how deeply intimate this moment is.  

The hypnosis scene is, in itself, entirely cruel.  It’s an example of Cabiria being taken advantage of.  It’s cruel because even though she was being hypnotized, Cabiria was being her true self.  Hypnotizing someone can make them do specific actions that the hypnotist tells them to do.  With the men, it was to row the boat and to fear for their life.  While Cabiria was given specific actions to do during her hypnosis, like dancing and lifting her arm, many actions were purely her own. She did eventually fall in love with Oscar, and she wasn’t hypnotised when she did.  It’s uncomfortable to watch, but also astoundingly beautiful.   The beauty comes through in her kindness, and in her authenticity in the moment.  What makes it uncomfortable is that her vulnerability and authenticity are made a spectacle of, and that is one of the cruelest things one can do.  It all seems remarkable, especially knowing the cruelty she’s faced not just in this scene, but throughout the film and possibly, her entire life.  How can one still be so gentle after almost being drowned by someone they thought loved them? How can one be so vulnerable after being deceived like that?  

 When Cabiria falls in love with the “real” Oscar, she gives her house away.  Throughout the film, she mentions owning her own house and seems proud to do so.  She is sad when she leaves, knowing that a piece of her is going to be left behind, but she still does it out of love.  As a prostitute, her whole way of life is to quite literally give herself to other people.  When she meets the famous movie star and is exiled to the bathroom for the entire evening after his girlfriend tries to make amends, she looks in through the keyhole.  It’s not about the sex, but about the passion that she sees- the art of loving and to be loved back.  It’s the very thing that she craves.  She gives herself away, and yet she has never received anything but deception and cruelty.  One can only hope that the cruelty doesn’t consume her after what happens at the end of the film and that she maintains to be, the one and only, Cabiria.