Jubilee films for Pilgrims of Hope: 'The Gate of Heaven'

By Fr. Greg Apparcel, CSP

“La Porta del Cielo,” (The Gate of Heaven) is a story of hope that was filmed by Vittorio De Sica in 1943-44 during the Nazi Occupation of Rome and was released in 1945.  It was made with the support of the Holy See which allowed De Sica to film the final scenes in the Basilica of San Paolo fuori le Mura (St. Paul’s Outside the Walls).  The film tells the story of a pilgrimage of sick people on a special train to the Marian Shrine of Loreto.  They are each suffering in one way or another; some with illness; some are disabled, some veterans, some with mental anguish.  They want to be healed and they are hoping that at the end of their journey, they will be cured. 

It is said that there were some elements of salvation with the production itself.  Gleaning information from the Azione Cattolica Italiana and other websites, I’ve learned that De Sica hired hundreds, perhaps thousands of actors, some who were Jewish or were in other ways being persecuted by the Nazis because they were “different.”  He said that “. . . it was salvation for me and for the actors.”  Apparently, De Sico prolonged the film for as long as he could, hoping that the Allies soon would liberate the city.  Msgr. Giovanni Battista Montini, who would become St. Pope Paul VI and who was then the Substitute of the Secretariat of State, was also involved in getting this film produced.  One of the screenwriters, Cesare Zavattini wrote in his diary, “They would like me [to make] a film of my own leaving me totally free.  I say totally, but the requirement is that the film be based on Christian morality.  But who isn’t Christian?  Christ is at the gate.”

De Sica notes that “at a certain moment the Basilica of San Paolo was a besieged fortress with three thousand refugees inside.  And a refuge it was for all of us in every sense.  For example, one day bombs fell all around the Church, and we were all unharmed inside.”   He had turned the Basilica into the sanctuary of Loreto (which is actually near Ancona) and also used the basement of the Church of San Roberto Bellarmino in Parioli, a section of Rome.

Before I discuss the characters on this journey, I must confess that I was only able to find a version of this film on YouTube that had Spanish subtitles.  My proficiency in Italian is not perfect, and my Spanish is far less, so I hope that I didn’t miss any salient points or dialogue. What strongly came through for me was the reason why this film was chosen as an anticipatory reflection to the Jubilee of Hope, and what it means to have faith in the most difficult of life’s situations.

As the train journeys to its destiny, we encounter some of the passengers and see them thinking about the situations that brought them to this point.  We meet Claudio, a young boy in a wheelchair running away from his bickering parents who ignore and abuse him most of the time.  He is seeking to be healed with the help of a good neighbor named Maria.  We watch an elderly woman, Filomina, dressed in black and in pain because of her son’s estrangement from his three sons who are angry and grieving their recently deceased mother.  When the father slaps his eldest son for accusing him of not caring for their mother, it upsets Filomina so much that she seeks the healing love of our Lady of Loreto for her family.

Next to Filomina sits a very troubled man with a paralyzed right hand.  Somehow, he doesn’t have the proper documentation to be on this train, so a kind nurse tries to help him.  She is told by her supervisor that he must get off at the next stop as “rules are rules,” but the nurse finds a way to help this man.  His name is Giovanni and he is a renowned concert pianist, who can no longer play.  He is given X-rays and various treatments, but there is no cure.  He goes to see his parents who refer to him with pride as Il Maestro.  His mother sees he is sick but says it will pass in time for his concert in Milan.  He tells her that the concert will never be as he is ill and no longer has use of his right hand. Later, he looks at his piano as he listens to the loud ticking clock.  He dusts the piano and once again tries to play it, but he can’t and just sits there and cries.  The scene dissolves as he’s back on the train, now in the present, as the sleeping Filomina rests her head on his shoulder.

In Rome, more patients wait to be brought onto the train.  A blind man with a friend also board.  A woman, lying on her sick bed looks out the train window to the next train.  It’s a dining car and a man is about to take a bite of his juicy steak.  He feels uncomfortable and guilty as she watches him and eventually, he pulls down the shade and continues his meal. Perhaps he is an example of those in our world who ignore the suffering of others.

There are other stories, including one about Carlo, a jealous man, who humiliates his rival in front of the woman he loves.  The rival then takes his revenge by rigging a machine and Carlo is badly burned.

And so we see all the passengers suffering in a variety of ways.  They wait patiently, fully aware of those around them. They pray the rosary in every train car and then they arrive at Loreto.  They look at the Shrine with great hope.  Inside a priest carries in procession the Monstrance with the Blessed Sacrament.  The Church (San Paolo) is filled with many lit candles and a multitude of people all praying.  “Jesus, Savior of the world descended among us, help me.”  The pianist and Filomena walk together.  A boys’ choir sings.  “Lord, walk with us,” is prayed.  Even the cynics are moved. 

Then, a woman in a wheelchair gets up and begins to walk.  She offers up her crutches as she slowly walks around, followed by a group of nurses dressed in white.  All the main characters, even Giovanni the pianist, walk together with hope and faith.  They kneel and pray.  “I believe,” they say.  “Thank you, Lord.”  Giovanni doesn’t kneel, not yet.  He walks to the side aisle and places on a table the gun he brought with him with the possibility of killing himself.  He now kneels with tears in his eyes and makes the sign of the cross.

Watching the cured woman walk around the church, the people shout, “One of us was healed!”  They are pilgrims of hope and have been uplifted.  They say, “Thank you, Lord.  One of us was healed.”

Some day I will see this film with good English subtitles (or with an improved comprehension of Italian) and understand anything that I may have I missed.  However, what I did not miss was the intense feelings of these suffering people who journeyed with hope on the special white train to Loreto, and though not all healed physically, they were all healed spiritually.