The non-standard beginning of the film, immersing in a black-and-white, scary, military world, which turns out to be clear only on the cinema screen of the original setting of this picture, outlines from the first notes the contrast between the world of the present, in which everything is poor, nondescript, but simple, and the world of pitch darkness, horror and ruthlessness, which, initially presented as an accidental cinema is a reality that later unfolds into a huge canvas of the world of cinema, which is not only from the set, but also from the screen test, from the very first acquaintance with it, it turns out to be an abyss full of cloying, heartlessness and debauchery.
The film begins in the 1950s in an Italian town, where a young woman dreams of spreading her wings — a young and talented girl from a poor family. She is portrayed as a romantic heroine, confined in a castle of routine and poverty, seeking opportunities to reveal her talents. Next to her, her sister’s love is like sunshine — a girl with a meager fate: she is destined to marry an ordinary man from a wealthy family. It seems as though her character is presented as a contrast to the main heroine, and her presence in the subsequent acting auditions is necessary only to reinforce the idea that humility and submissiveness only serve to facilitate enslavement.
Nevertheless, this girl, already in the first scene, where she needs to make a statement, brings true nobility to the forefront by refusing to bare her chest in front of the film set commission, something her sister freely agreed to. Mimosa, on the other hand, silently left the studio. This plot point is emphasized, appearing to the viewer as a telling illustration of the idea that such actions will never move a person.
However, it is precisely here that the main confusion begins: instead of being curious about the start of her sister’s brilliant career, the viewer follows Mimosa, who wanders alone through the noisy alleys of the film set. Gradually, the suspicion takes hold that the main character is not at all the one the viewer had their eye on.
It’s amazing how, throughout the entire film, this girl doesn’t lay claim to anything and yet every time finds herself at the center of events. Chosen by fate itself, she plays the leading role in every rhapsody, and in the end, after many trials, she finds herself thrown out onto the street by the same fate. Only the movement of the street continues to obey her — getting a little ahead of myself.
On the set itself, we first meet Josephine — a domineering figure, comparable only to other leading actresses, who has the authority even to kick an actress off the set if relations with her don’t work out. That’s how Mimosa ended up on stage, and in a close‑up shot at that.
The final point, which proves her leading role in the film, is established after the statement by the artisans that the actors in the crowd scenes, including her sister, spend the night in cattle wagons — this highlights the entire world of everyday life that was presented to the viewer at the beginning, while pushing forward the idea of modest nobility, which has not yet become firmly established and remains incomprehensible.
Mimosa’s entry into the circle where her future fate will unfold begins precisely with Josephine’s sympathy for her. She comes up with a new name for her — “Sendi” — and a career as a “poetess from Sweden,” and indulges in her new pastime, doing everything she can to promote the new thing to the guests. The elite party after the filming is the смысловой center of this artistic picture, as it is here that the climax of the plot takes place. “Sendi” once again captivates the guests, barely uttering a word during the enchanting evening.
The Oscar‑worthy scene in this work is the episode where, enraged by the realization that the evening is not going according to plan, Josephine stops the world, and in that utter silence, she brings the “Swedish puppet” to the center of the hall and asks her to recite her poems. This moment cannot be unequivocally interpreted as a set‑up on her part. On the contrary, someone as domineering as Josephine, who gave an unknown guest a chance to prove herself, will not let her go without judging how she will make use of this opportunity.
Thus, Mimosa steps into the center of the hall, and then you can notice that the director spared no effort, spending a full 3.5 minutes of the film in complete silence, creating a kind of void in the noisy space of the evening. Moreover, this silence gives rise to the greatest gradation of emotions among the guests, who are surrounded by the silent spectacle: from down‑to‑earth fatigue, which gradually turns into awkwardness, experienced as condescension, shyness, and later — compassion, and finally, tenderness, marked by universal, overwhelming delight.
The scene concludes with Sean Lockwood clapping and saying: “This is poetry without words. This is her best work, ” followed by universal, thunderous applause. One might assume that society has simply gone mad, but, in any case, it has been moved and found itself in the aura of influence of this simple girl. In this scene, the director clearly makes it clear: Mimosa has not changed after the latest twists in her life — the change in her social circle and occupation. She remained that very speck of dust, that very ray of light that, for some reason, is the only one that remains noticed—and noticed by outright evil: Josephine and all her high society, which could well be called the spawn of the devil herself.
However, the fateful heroine herself cannot be considered the pure embodiment of evil, just as the Messiah from “The Master and Margarita” cannot be classified as such, just as Judas cannot be called a traitor, and those who crucified Christ cannot be labeled villains. For it is precisely through the commission of evil deeds that the path to the fateful, the purified, and the true is forged.
It was Josephine who became the darkness that made the light visible. But the point of the heat, the biggest tragedy of this picture, is that even after exposing the good, the world chooses the other side. This is proved by the continuation of the evening: the use of illegal substances, debauchery and booze, from which the heroine flees, bending in narrow, colorful corridors.
Thus, Sean, who expressed his delight first after Mimosa’s silent performance and charmed her with his subdued splendor, is revealed the next morning in his true light: a mere continuation of Josephine’s game, he is just an ordinary pawn on her board. An ordinary grapevine, reaching out toward the artificial light, for it has long been raised in captivity and knows not the true sun. It trembles only occasionally from its direct rays. He saved her three times, but in the end, he turned out to be nothing but a puppet.
The second semantic part of the film begins precisely at the moment when the theme of the artificial and the real is still somewhat convoluted, but now unfolds consistently. In the scene that becomes a clear reference point for the phenomena of the new world, it is shown how Mimosa, rejected by Sean in the morning, sneaks into Josephine’s room and witnesses her mind‑blowing transformation: she puts aside her wig, washes off her makeup completely, takes off her jewelry and outfit, and becomes like the earth. For the seed, for mediocrity, or for the child — in the same human‑like form as all the other familiar, everyday things on the planet.
Next, a one‑minute scene unfolds, beginning after Josephine’s cry of “Who is this?”, during which the heroines silently look at each other, this time face to face. It is clear that Josephine is hiding nothing, fearing nothing. She silently, without lowering her eyes, closes the doors between them, as if creating a barrier between the world of light and the world of shadow. Let me remind you that Josephine herself wanted this: it was she who brought Mimosa to the hotel, leaving her a poetic message. It is precisely here that the secret of the author’s title, “The Long‑Awaited Dawn, ” lies. The dark, complex, and oppressive night was merely a prelude to the revelation of the true cards. The death of the girl on the set, which is mentioned at the very beginning of the film, is symbolic. At the moment when Mimosa finds her by the seashore, their spiritual sisterhood is felt. She was the same — an embodiment of innocence seized by the merciless forces of the big industry, where predators like Josephine have their own plans for everything and everyone.
Leaving the whimsical world where the last days were left behind, Mimosa sets off along a path encoded in a poem left for her by Josephine. She finds herself on a spacious city square by a fountain, and Josephine’s voice-over speaks the lines: “And the heavens will be clear, the streets will open their arms, and the heart will beat dully, a familiar voice will sound, and someone’s door will swing open. The noise of the streets will become the cry of the heart in the suddenly dimmed light, and you will be silent and pure.”
The silhouette of Mimosa glides gracefully down the vast staircase, as if descending into the earthly, delineating the dirty and the ornate. She finally descends to the place where she finds her place, and where the long‑awaited dawn greets her.
Eventually, a tiger emerges from behind the fountain—a creature that had previously been mentioned in the newspapers as having escaped from its cage during filming and that accompanies Josephine’s appearance or mention in the film. At first, it evokes horror, symbolizing a powerful force that consumes everything in its path.
Nevertheless, the final scene is a fairy‑tale harmony in which the tiger accompanies Mimosa, and together they walk along a deserted morning road towards a bright future, leaving behind the terrible world in which they played their roles. It is not necessary to abandon the idea that the tiger is an embodiment of Josephine. In the final scene, he is finally her true embodiment: a noble, pure animal walking barefoot on the hot asphalt and unwilling to cause bloodshed. A soul that has broken free from its cage. In fact, all of Josephine’s activities were aimed at revealing the character of the main heroine, but what did she do in the plot? She told everyone the truth, strived for good acting, divided and conquered.
She played the role of the supreme one, who managed to skillfully assign each role in the mortal theater and after it. That is why Mimosa is depicted on the film’s poster, climbing along the curves of her face as if it were a rock. Who is the winner and who is the loser — it no longer matters. Josephine is the face of God and the devil; Mimosa is above their games. These were not trials to see whether she could be part of the society she had entered thanks to so many coincidences. This was a test of purity and nobility. She left society not because she couldn’t hold her ground in it, but because she didn’t need it.
Where will she go now? To the groom, who spends whole days in tactless fuss and bother? To the mother, who is ready to reproach and patronize her every minute? To the sister, who is returning from the cattle wagon? Or will she now go her own way?
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