🎥 A Trilogy: Life’s Labyrinths, Part II

1. Nyhterinos ekfonitis | Athens Midnight Radio (2024) Greece, Directed by Renos Haralambidis
2. La grazia (2025) Italy, Directed by Paolo Sorrentino
3. Il tempo che ci vuole|The Time it Takes (2024) Italy | France, Directed by Francesca Comencini

Italian Film Festival + Greek Film Festival 2025

^{At a crossroads – Toni Servillo as the fictional president of Italy about to finish his final term in office…}

La grazia

Paolo Sorrentino’s La grazia was the second film I saw at this year’s Italian Film Festival. It was also the only film that was advertised on the site without a trailer (some weird AI-generated trailer was available upon searching on YouTube – but you could smell its fishy falsity within a couple of seconds) and the singular marketing I managed to find at the time, was an image of the back of the great Toni Servillo (Sorrentino’s chameleonic long-term collaborator), dressed formally in a black coat and hat, standing looking sideways on what looks to be a country road that leads somewhere into the distance. His gaze unseen by us, his face, in a half profile, yielded little expression, at least none that can be easily deciphered. Even the 20 word blurb gave nothing away. I entered the theatre with only a hastily glanced meaning of the words la grazia in mind.

La grazia is a word that describes not only the translation any English-speaking person would discern upon seeing the word – grace. Its variation in usage and meaning yields a complex but well-rounded description of Sorrentino’s elegant film (note he was also the writer of this film). The word signals multiple meanings concurrently: 1. Favour or benevolence in the form of goodwill; 2. Gratitude – in its signifying of thankfulness or a blessing; 3. Also, it conveys the idea of pardon or mercy in a legal sense, of clemency or formal pardon granted by the head of state; and lastly, 4. The spiritual beneficence of divine favour – where a state of grace is attained.

^{Servillo’s Mariano with his daughter, Dorotea (Ana Ferzetti)}

Just like a modern-day sorcerer, Sorrentino weaves these elements together into the life-taspestry of Servillo’s Italian President, Mariano de Santis, who is serving out the last 6 months of his 7 year term. His daughter, Dorotea (Ana Ferzetti) runs a tight schedule for him, right down to what he is allowed to eat, (something like boiled fish and potatoes), so as to keep his weight off; a somewhat sardonic recurring theme: the president’s envy of the weightlessness of an astronaut who also has 6 months before returning to earth, and the president’s own earnt nickname of ‘reinforced concrete’ – conjuring a visual image of a slab of that heavy but dull, grey material; but really, this description is in context to his dogmatism in carrying out duties to the letter of the law. 

And so, his days passed, not unkindly, like that of a groundhog, where one day blends into the next; where history weighs him down and the future is but an abyss, a void eternal in which he must surrender. Sometimes when he is up on the roof top of his residence, we couldn’t help but wonder whether he would leap off its parapet. 

^{A memory fragment}

In an echo of the eternal city where he lives, eternity is measured by the stretch of his inability to act on (seemingly) just three things: 1. To put his signature to an euthanesia bill that his daughter has prepared; 2. The decision of whether to grant pardon to a woman who has murdered her abusive husband; and 3. Whether or not to grant pardon to a man who had ended his wife’s suffering from Alzheimer’s. If we go back to the marketing still for this film, we now know that, despite the straight road that leads ahead, de Santis had turned his head to the side, and in doing so, he is offering up to himself, a different choice, a diverting path to take (somewhere off-frame). And this is how he has to navigate what remains of his term and what remains of his life – the loss of his wife, his knowledge that she has cheated on him at a much earlier juncture of their marriage, and the three things of his governance weighed on him (no amount of dieting would alleviate his heavy burden).

^{Milvia Marigliano is brilliant as Coco (to the left of Servillo)}

But there are light-hearted moments too: in the form of his larger than life friend, Coco Valori, played here with unforgettable flair and vibrancy by Milvia Marigliano delivers to the camera a rich Fellinesque jewel that Sorrentino reveres. Other moments of hilarity come in the form of Chaplinesque caper: the red-carpeted arrival of the Portuguese prime minister, majestically broken by a sudden rain storm – all in exquisite multi-angled slow motion for our visual enjoyment – a mockery of the absurdity of formalities. Working with his long-term collaborator, Daria D’Antonio, at the helm of the camera, providing just the right amount of comedy to offset the gravity of Mariano’s decisions. We mustn’t forget to mention de Santis’ new penchant for listening to rap music in the evenings on his headphones, seated in the official cabinet’s leather and dark wood office – just when you think any seriousness was checked at the door – Sorrentino raps, to camera, perfectly. In fact, the pulsing techno music that recurs throughout the film acts as that needlepoint of balance on a scale – tipping sometimes to enjoyment, sometimes to endurance; a metaphor for one’s moral compass: the unyielding oscillation between doubt and certainty, right or wrong.

In Sorrentino’s 2024 Parthenope, a film I regard as the writer/director’s best work (sadly my sentiment was not shared by critics), he posed this question: “what happens if you just let go?” – a profound and deeply troubling question, as most people desperately cling onto whatever they deem to be important, when really, nothing is as vital as it may seem – good looks, what other people think of you, the millstone around your neck (unless you’re one of the handful of fortunates who love your job), politics and government, social media, or things you simply can’t change. Who dares to live authentically as themselves these days (despite loud pronouncements of this achievement)? And here in La grazia, the question asked is a simpler one, but no less weighty: “who owns our days?”, a follow-up question of the former. If there is a right answer to this question, does it make it true to your current situation? For me, the dual questions posed by Sorrentino continue to linger long after the film ends. 

^{The ‘saintly’ de Santis sneaking a cigarette}

La grazia won 7 awards at the 82nd Venice Film Festival with Servillo taking the Volpi Cup for Best Actor. 

^{A solemn but emotive scene where Mariano joins in on an Alpini Mountain Infantry song with the troops}

An interesting interview with the director at the 63rd New York Film Festival is available here.

^{Friends and collaborators… Servillo and Sorrentino: brilliant artists}

The Italian Film Festival ran in September and October in Australia this year.

The Greek Film Festival ran in October in Australia this year.

Look back on the first instalment, on Athens Midnight Radio by director Renos Haralambidis

Look out for the next and final instalment, on The Time it Takes by director Francesca Comencini.

^{Francesca Comencini (right) directing Romana Maggiora Vergano in The Time it Takes}

 

🎥J+N 2021 Film Festival selection: Films #28, #29, #30 and #31

aka #lockdownlife #italianrenaissance

Una vita tranquilla | A Quiet Life (2010) Italy, France, Germany   Directed by Claudio Cupellini

Troppa grazia | Lucia’s Grace (2018) Italy  Directed by Gianni Zanasi

Pasolini (2014) France, Belgium, Italy  Directed by Abel Ferrara

A Room with a View (1985) United Kingdom  Directed by James Ivory

Lockdown life in Sydney has made the days of the week lose all meaning. I’ve worked long hours during this time and the only salvation at the end of the day are my books and of course, films and a couple of well-chosen TV series. Of the latter two, I’ve taken to watching quite a few Italian films as well as television shows and found them delightfully sentimental without the soap. The set design, narrative, direction and acting are, in fact, impeccable. Whilst I won’t be reviewing the TV shows here, but if you’re looking for a good detective series that is story-driven, one that is not running on adrenalin alone and certainly not filling your screen with blood and gore then I would highly recommend you take a look at one of these: Rocco Schiavone: Ice Cold Murders on Stan, Maltese: The Mafia Detective (Foxtel); and Masantonio on SBS on Demand.

The name Toni Servillo need no introduction even to those who have only a passing interest in Italian cinema. I first saw this brilliant Neapolitan actor in Paolo Sorrentino’s film The Great Beauty (2013) and more recently I’ve had the pleasure to see his incredible performance in Il Divo (2010) playing the politician Giulio Andreotti. In this film, Servillo’s face was transformed to such an extent that it was an immobile mask, putty-like and unyielding, a shield where nothing can get through nor escape; deep is the corrupted state of affairs, so much so that it has penetrated the soul of a man, and a nation state. But I liked Servillo best when he is playing more sensitive and thoughtful character roles, as the detective in The Girl in the Fog (2017) that was recently shown on SBS on demand, and also similar by name, but totally unrelated, The Girl by the Lake (2007) that was also on SBS a few years ago. 

The wonderful Toni Servillo as restauranteur Rosario Russo in A Quiet Life.

Here, in Una vita tranquilla, Servillo is Rosario Russo, a skilled chef who is running a small restaurant-hotel in the German countryside. And he is indeed leading a quiet life, but for the way that Italians gesticulate so passionately, (and this element is not lost in this sleepy Alpine-like town, Russo does a fine job of arguing just so in the kitchen with his Venetian chef, Claudio), all seemed to be well with his little family; a young son, he is well respected in the community, the restaurant is shared in partnership with his German wife, Renate, played by the wonderful Juliane Köhler, who I’ve not seen since Downfall (2004). The multilingual nature of this bonded family unit lends an air of both sophistication and familiarity at the same time.

Playing happy families, but all is not as it seems…

But all is not well when two young ruffians show up, Edoardo (Francesco Di Leva) and Diego (Marco D’Amore). You can immediately see that there’s a shared history between Rosario and Diego, and more than that, their roots lie deeper than that of family, but of Rosario’s hidden past. The two young men turns out to be Camorra hitmen who have come under orders to clean up. The mood in the film changes; although still quiet, danger now permeates its mise en scene. We know well in advance that it will not end well. Diego’s naivety almost matches that of Rosario’s young son; it seems that the bloodline of an assassin has not bonded his family in a calculable way and Rosario’s sacrifice is far greater than the escape from his past life. Claudio Cupellini’s direction gives this film a slow burn and Filippo Gravina’s treatment of the script is precise, and reveals Rosario’s nature to us in a single scene, with him systematically tapping copper nails in a ring around clusters of Alpine trees; in order to kill them.

I first caught the luminous Alba Rohrwacher’s in Luca Guadagnino’s gorgeous and memorable film I Am Love (2009) at the Sydney Film Festival, reviewed here. Since then, she has appeared in no less than 40 films, but sadly, I’ve only managed to see a handful of them; including Perfect Strangers (2016) with the wonderful Marco Giallini who plays Rocco in the film (just like his alter-ego Rocco Schiavone in one of the Italian TV series recommended in this post); also in Arnaud Desplechin’s Ismael’s Ghosts (2017) at the French Film Festival, more recently at this years French Film Festival she was in Chloe Mazlo’s Sous le ciel d’Alice (2019) reviewed here; and I also saw her in her sister Alice Rohrwacher’s film Happy as Lazzaro (2018) available on SBS on Demand currently.

Alba Rohrwacher is wonderful as Lucia.

Let me say how much I enjoyed this film. Lucia’s Grace is one of those small films that leave you thinking feeling good long afterwards. As a professional surveyor and single mother, Lucia’s life came to crossroads when a woman, we realise almost immediately that she is the Madonna, appears to her when out surveying a field. Lucia was hired by a local businessman who wanted to build a showy function centre in the middle of a pristine Tuscan-like golden field; called inappropriately (and uglily), The Wave – this proves to be ironic later on. Lucia was asked to survey the land with her assistant Fabio (Daniele De Angelis) but was later asked to accept the old dodgy surveyor map rather than to provide her own professional opinion.

Madonna or hallucination?

Surveying the land

Director Zanasi cleverly understates the visions and make them grounded and believable as a parable of sorts, and cinematographer Vladan Radovic saturates the film in a golden hue that adds to this modern day fable. There are so many beautiful moments about family, Lucia’s teenage daughter who looks just like a version of herself; love and investing in things that have meaning. Branded as a comedy by its distributors, (yes, there are lots of comedic moments) I see it more to be a finely narrated film that sets out to ask fundamental questions about the human condition; about belief and self-worth. Do you have faith in your own convictions and belief in your own skills and abilities. And then how to use those abilities and gained knowledge to navigate authentically in the real world. 

Abel Ferrara’s Pasolini is a wonderful retelling of the last days of this great director’s life. Willem Dafoe must be one of the luckiest actors alive to be able to embody, in a single lifetime, the spirit of Van Gogh, Jesus and now Pasolini. 

Chameleon Willem Dafoe, here as Pasolini

Perhaps the most sombre and least crazed of Ferrara’s work. With some of the film’s dialogue drawn directly from the writings of Pasolini, and hence, thoughtful and full of poesis. I wrote extensively on Pasolini’s film Teorema (1968) years ago when I was doing my degree in Film Studies and one of my very treasured possessions is Pasolini’s novel of the same name. Love or hate his work, once read or seen, it is difficult for his writings or films to leave you. 

I was happy to see an aging Ninetto Davoli, one of Pasolini’s most beloved actors, and his one-time lover and long time companion in the film. However, it was Pasolini’s final meeting with his destiny that really hit me hard. There was no new ending that can be ascribed; unlike that given to Sharon Tate in Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). This auteur, poet and intellectual was simply killed in what was more or less a chance encounter. His novel The Divine Mimesis, published posthumously (it was already in the hands of his publishers before his death) is a must-read for those interested in this director.

Pasolini’s philosophical writings and poetry are lyrical, intelligent and provocative.

When I think of the romance of Italy, I also think of A Room with a View; yes, that is quite quaint of me, but this is a film from my childhood that I have deep nostalgia for, as I do with other Merchant Ivory co-productions, such as Maurice (1987), Howard’s End (1993) and The Remains of the Day (1994) but to name a few. I’ve always enjoyed these productions, as my love for the reserved natures of the characters in these films, is one of the shared joys of being a Sino-British child.

This is the scene that everyone remembers (but it’s actually the last scene of the film).

I’ve not seen A Room with a View since I first saw it on the big screen, so I decided to read the book as well as watch the film in tandem. How is this achieved you ask… well, in stages if you must know. I would race ahead and read some chapters before watching the film (broken into 3 or 4 long segments), the book on the other hand, is a slim volume. The effect is quite peculiar, but interesting, as the film does not follow the E. M. Forster’s novel exactly, and I ravel in these slight differences. 

Daniel Day Lewis as the ever so pedantic Cecil Vyse.

I hadn’t realised how marvellous Helena Bonham Carter was as Lucy Honeychurch, she was only 19 years of age at the time and this was her first feature film. Both Julian Sands (as George Emerson) and Daniel Day Lewis (as Cecil Vyse) were ten years older than her at the time, and again, their performances though completely absorbing (you can already see the craft in Daniel Day Lewis’ as a bold character actor) just makes Helena’s Lucy shine all the more. The stellar cast with Dame Maggie Smith, Denholm Elliott, Simon Callow, Dame Judi Dench and Rupert Graves, with incredible vistas of Rome, beautiful costumes, the whimsical hairdos and the English countryside, as well as the easy-to-like narrative charms you throughout. But of course, in the heart of this story, hearts turn despite all the decorum that surrounds it.

The idyllic Tuscan sun

The epiphany that occurs to both George and Lucy is via an act of transgression; and what better than place for this to happen, then in the holy city of Rome? If you don’t know the story, then, pray, read the book, or see the film; better still, do both, as I did.

The moment of transfiguration

A Quiet Life was showing on SBS on Demand.

Lucia’s Grace on Stan.

Pasolini on Mubi

A Room with a View from J+N’s private collection. 

#filmfestivaleveryday #filmoftheday #jandnfilmfestival