My maternal grandparents were Mexican immigrants, and the kitchen, the cooking, the meal – they were all wrapped up in Grandma’s endless love. Our immediate and extended family would celebrate wonderful occasions at the bountiful table of our communal meals.
As an adult, I knew I had met The One when my future husband expressed delight over the first meal I prepared for him. It was a humble plate, enchiladas rice and beans, but he beamed like a happy child as he exclaimed “This is just like the rice my favorite Aunt used to make!”
A few months later, he celebrated our declarations of Love by going out and buying a bigger dining room set.
“Now we can have dinner parties,” he explained. We were meant for each other.
But on that dreary afternoon, 26 years later, he was dead, I feared I was dying, and for some reason, at that moment, the only course of action was to watch a movie.
I popped Big Night into the player. I have no recollection of my reason for pulling that particular movie off the shelf. It had long been a favorite, but beyond that I don’t think I was considering why. Before long I knew why, better than ever, and that day Stanley Tucci’s little masterpiece was my reclamation.
Big Night (1996) is a comedy/drama which takes place in New York some time in the 1950s. It tells the story of two Italian immigrant brothers, and through them we see two opposing stories of immigrant life in America. Secondo, played by co-writer/co-director Stanley Tucci, embraces assimilation, while the other, Primo, played by Tony Shaloub, clings to Italian attitudes and traditions. Their very names communicate their situations. Primo means first – first born, therefore head of the family; first generation, among immigrants the generation closest to the old country. Secondo means second – second born, therefore scrambling to keep up, to support, to give deference to and yet compete with the first; second generation, among immigrants the hipper, savvier generation, straining to break free from the old ways. The push-pull of this fraternal relationship is primal and thus palpable from the first scenes of the film.
Another primal element which drives Big Night is food and the communal meal (yes, there is sex, but this essay is not intended to address that sort of hunger…).
Primo and Secondo are close to losing their small Italian restaurant named Paradise (an ironic allusion to immigrant hopes). Less than a block away is Pascal's, a big, lively and popular Italian eatery that consumes the local business – pun intended. Secondo believes that to find success, they must emulate the competition and offer accessible, Americanized fare. Primo, on the other hand, is a culinary purist, determined to educate the local palates in the subtleties of fine Italian dining and disdainful of the cheesy, saucy, clichéd dishes presented by the other restaurant. Primo dismisses Secondo’s menu suggestions by offering to serve hot dogs. His struggle to pronounce the words “hot dog” correctly is just one way in which this film subtly underscores the issues of the transplanted in this country.
Despite his envy and competitive bent, or maybe because of it, Secondo has struck up a friendship with Pascal (Ian Holm), the vulgar and conniving owner of the other restaurant. Pascal boasts acquaintance with many a star of stage and screen (evidenced by pictures on his office wall). Surprisingly and seemingly uncharacteristically, Pascal offers to bring the then-wildly popular singer Louis Prima to eat at Paradise in order to help Secondo save his restaurant by promoting the visit. Prima, of course, is another word for first and another reference to ordinance, priority, and perhaps capitalist pecking order.
Primo readies to prepare the meal of his life, and Secondo spends the last of their capital to provide the ingredients. There is no turning back – the dinner for Louis Prima will be the big night that will be either their salvation or their destruction.
The sequence that restored my own waning dreams was the arc of the big night itself. By this time we have been introduced to the other members of the splendid cast, including Allison Janney, Isabella Rossallini, Mimi Driver, Marc Anthony, and Campbell Scott (who also co-directed). They all assemble in attendance at Primo’s table.
As I watched and the onscreen festivities escalated, so did my mood. The diners schmoozed and drank and waited anxiously for the celebrity arrival. They mugged and danced to the goofy songs that were popularized in that era by Rosemary Clooney and Louis Prima himself.
Periodically, we cut to Primo’s preparation and finally, a sumptuous Italian dinner is served:
Intertitles remind us that all in life is ordered, including the courses of a meal: Primo – Zuppa; Secondo – Risotto. Then, Primo unveils his specialty, the spectacular Timpano. Timpano a la Big Night is a massive pasta pie containing meatballs, sausage, ziti, cheese, sauce, and hard-boiled eggs, encased in a perfectly browned crust. With the table-side cutting of the timpano, the meal fully launches and sprightly Italian music takes us through the diner’s delight and pleasure in the food and in each other.
I could not help but weep with joy and gratitude. Gratitude, that is, for the many precious memories which flooded back, reminding me of the delight and pleasure of our loved ones as they gathered around our dining table. I remembered my “Big Night” dinner party where I screened the movie for guests and then served the timpano, having found the recipe on the internet. Everyone was as satisfied on my big night as their counterparts were in Big Night the movie.
What about Louis Prima? Do the brothers save their restaurant? Do they abandon each other, one to return to Italy? I don’t want to enter spoilers here. The film is worth viewing to find out the answers. I highly recommend it .
Of course others may or may not like Big Night. Others may or may not like Italian cooking. It is hard to predict public tastes as our appetites for entertainment are as varied as our appetites for food. But, getting back to that day as I watched this picture from a sickbed: by the end of the movie the weather was still dreary but my life was not. I remembered that the same table my husband lovingly purchased was still downstairs in my dining room. I vowed that I would not die, that I would recover fully to someday prepare another timpano, on another Big Night, with the people I cherish sitting around a table bought long ago in anticipation of love and celebration.
Ultimately, the power of Big Night turns not only on food ritual, community, priority and the persistence of hope. It separates itself with ambiguity and avoids a tidy "Hollywood ending." It is not grim, but it is honest. It touches more serious, even darker issues as it explores the consequences of the unrealized "American Dream" and the fallout from infidelity and disappointment. Directors Tucci and Scott achieve an intimacy that brings us, as an audience, literally to the table. They gift us with a richly textured film of depth and humor. On one crucial afternoon, Big Night restored my appreciation for those blessings and challenges that make life worth living.
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