Quite simply, there are few war movies more emotional--or more personal--than Vittorio De Sica's Two Women (1960). As the film opens, Allied bombs are falling on Nazi-occupied Rome. A shopkeeper, Cesira, played by Sophia Loren, tries desperately to shield her shy and devout 12-year-old daughter, Rosetta, from the aerial assault. Concerned that Rosetta's heart may not be strong enough to survive the terror of another bombardment, they flee to Ciociaria, Cesira's hometown.

Their journey is perilous, but it's a fairly straightforward refugee story. They scrounge for food with everyone else, including an intellectual younger man, a Marxist named Michele played by Jean-Paul Belmondo. Both Cesira and Rosetta are taken with him, each in her own way.

But De Sica constantly reminds us you can't outrun the war. And that old fear-- that constant sense that death is imminent-- comes to Ciociaria as well. The Germans are there, and when they seize Michele, forcing him to guide them through the mountains, Two Women becomes an entirely different movie--brutal, chilling and relentlessly honest.

Playing Cesira changed Sophia Loren's career trajectory. Though she'd already found some measure of Hollywood stardom following the release of Houseboat (1958) with Cary Grant and Desire Under the Elms (1958) with Anthony Perkins, she made history with Two Women, becoming the first non-American to win the Best Actress Oscar® in a foreign language film.

And considering what's in the film--a hideous sexual assault, plus sex out of marriage-- it's surprising that Hollywood saw fit to honor Loren's textured portrayal of such a complicated, flawed and decent character. Of course, she was honored by the artists of the Academy, a group far less conservative than the studio executives who allowed the production code to restrict movie content for decades.

Loren credits De Sica for elevating her performance, giving her the confidence "to go far beyond where I'd ever gone before." Loren says De Sica regularly cried along with Cesira during particularly emotional scenes.

Naturally (why is this so often the case?), Loren wasn't the first choice to play Cesira. The original plan called for Anna Magnani to star, with Loren, who was 25 during production, as the daughter. But to Magnani, who was 53, playing Loren's mother was an indignity she was not willing to suffer.

The casting of Belmondo was a happy accident of financing. Producer Carlo Ponti, Loren's husband, struck a deal with a French company to co-produce the movie. But French laws required a French co-star. And what do you know? Belmondo, fresh off Breathless (1960), was available.

Somehow, De Sica ended up with the perfect cast in a war picture unlike any other.

by Ben Mankiewicz