Tag: Italy

The Bone Breakers (Spaccaossa)

Posted on by Jeremy Clarke

The scene you’re most likely to remember comes right at the start of The Bone Breakers. Inside a warehouse, bodybuilding weights are packed into a suitcase which, once sealed, is carried up some scaffolding. Below, men hold another man’s arm so that it rests on two blocks, one at each end, then the man on the scaffolding drops the case from the scaffolding onto the man below’s rested arm, painfully breaking it. You’re immediately wondering what’s going on, possibly assuming the men are gangsters and the man whose arm has been broken has upset or crossed them in some way.

However, the man is compliant and even though his fractured arm clearly causes him considerable pain afterwards, he goes along with and and doesn’t appear to bear the men who have done this any ill will. They get him to the hospital where his arm is put in a sling, then take him to another building in which he’ll live in the short term, presumably to recuperate.

Beyond that, it isn’t entirely obvious what’s going on although, in fact, it’s very simple. Although the glowing term ‘inspried’ sounds far too optimistic and pleasant, this is inspired by an insurance scam in Palermo whereby people’s bones were broken to enable them to claim on the insurance money. Or rather, to enable to claims of the people whose bones were broken and the criminals who set up this scheme, who take their not inconsiderable cut even as they claim in good capitalist fashion to be providing a service that people want. All this (and the exact purpose of the house) is explained in a brief title at the close of the film.

To tell this horrific story, co-writer and director Vincenzo Pirrotta weaves a complex network of characters who prove really hard for the audience to keep up with. Chief among these in Vincenzo (played by Pirrotta himself) who, it quickly becomes apparent, isn’t really suited to this or any similar line of business. You need to be ruthless, make threats and be able to see them through if people using the service try to bend the rules, but Vincenzo is too likely to listen to people and try and help them.

Moreover, he’s completely smitten with black-clad drug addict Luisa (Selena Caramazza), despite his being told she is unreliable, and after having sex with her tries to help her by getting her arm broken. It’s fairly obvious that this has the potential to go bad and poison their blossoming relationship pretty fast, alongside various other broken bone situations with other people who develop all sorts of complications. Towards the end, we even get into faked, fatal road accidents.

There’s another gang member much more ruthless than Vincenzo – and therefore much more likely to get the required results – who starts taking work off him. Vincenzo’s Catholic mother (Aurore Quattrocchi), meanwhile, alongside verbalising piety, seems to know exactly what’s going on and constantly tells him what to do, even though her admonitions may be beyond his essentially compassionate nature.

In addition to its overly complicated storyline, perhaps the narrative’s problems lie in showing its hand too early. After that devastating opening, it’s difficult to imagine anything else having quite the same impact. And although the film presses several scenarios into play in the hope of achieving that end, nothing quite tops it.

Nevertheless, as these gruesome and immoral events play out, there’s a compelling fascination to them, particularly with a central character who lacks what it takes to make such things run smoothly because he possesses a basic humanity that flies in the face of what all those around him are doing or encouraging. Altogether, an incredibly bleak and depressing vision, definitely not recommended for the faint of heart, which nevertheless carries within it the seeds of optimism: things are bad, but some people are striving, even if unsuccessfully, to make them better. Or, at least, less bad.

The Bone Breakers plays in the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival. Watch the film trailer below:

The Hole (Il Buco)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

Scriptwriting instructors love the cliché: “Show, but don’t tell.” They say it’s better to convey information visually as opposed to leading the viewer by the hand. Il Buco takes this to the nth degree, creating a film which is all glorious show, while telling us very little. Audiences left my screening frustrated, debating what it’s all about. My simple answer: does it actually matter when when what’s on screen just looks so awesome?

I learned a new word from this film: speleology. Simply put, it refers to the art of descending caves and figuring out their depth. Clambering through tiny cracks and wading through stagnant pools with only a searchlight for company, The Hole is freely inspired by a true story of speleologists who reached the bottom of the third deepest cave in the world in 1961, located in southern Italy.

For anyone who has been to southern Italy, it’s a place where time seems to move just that little slower. Director Michelangelo Frammartino captures the beauty of the area in great depth before taking us into the cave: rugged roofs that cats scamper across; people huddled together watching the only television in the village; trains appearing occasionally in the mist; vast mountains and vaster valleys; luscious greenery and a fine sense of mystery. It seems like the natural place for a massive cave.

Eschewing almost any dialogue whatsoever in favour of a documentary-like approach, featuring no music, and actually recreating real cave-diving sequences (probably with a higher level of health and safety than in the 60s), this is a film that demands a cinematic viewing. Particularly impressive is the immersive sound design — water perennially dripping and huge echoing sounds — and the use of light, men often seeming to descend into almost complete darkness. It looks absolutely terrifying. Like fighting in the army or going into space; it’s definitely the kind of job I’m glad someone else is doing. I’ll stick to writing film reviews in the sunshine.

Meanwhile, an old man sits on the side of the hill. He makes strange sounds to call his flock; sheep, cows, horses; all freely grazing. As the men descend the cave, his health deteriorates. He’s a symbol of the old-world, filled with an acceptance of mystery, the likes of which the others want to eliminate. It’s up to you whether or not this is just the mere passing of time, or a critique of man’s need for exploration.

And if there is any direct commentary, it comes from a short documentary we see on TV. Two men are climbing the highest building in Milan on a lift, commenting (in the only sequence that was subtitled) on all the people at their office jobs. They quote a window cleaner, who is enjoying the voyeurism so much, he forgets that he’s working at all (perhaps he’s Daniel Day-Lewis from The Unbearable Lightness of Being! (Philip Kaufman, 1988)). Perhaps the descending, silent men are the same; simply loving the joy of discovery, even if the bottom of the cave is just yet another dirty pool of water. If we don’t know why or what it’s all for, does it actually matter? This is a film that expands our sense of wonder, even if final meaning is elusively out of our grasp.

The Hole plays in the Supernova section of the Transylvania International Film Festival, running from 17th-26th June.

Other Cannibals (Altri Cannibali)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM TALLINN

The gorgeous north Italian province of South Tirol is turned into a nefarious, ominous place in Other Cannibals, a black comedy that uses its strange premise to force an unusual sense of empathy from its characters. Genuinely unpredictable with a great sense of spontaneity and unforced performances, it keeps you guessing right until the final, deliciously absurd finale.

Other Cannibals starts in a factory, close-ups of machines — coupled with the name of the film itself — suggesting we are in for a straight-up horror experience, the first of many bait-and-switches throughout its runtime. Fausto (Walter Giroldini) finishes his shift then stops by his mother’s house, asking for the keys to his late father’s house. Then he drives to the train station and picks up the mysterious Ivan (Diego Pagotto). At first it looks like a hookup. Or perhaps Ivan wants to rent a room. It’s only when he makes a reference to tranquillisers and sleeping pills that we realise something strange is going to happen.

I refuse to ruin anymore of the plot, because this is one of those movies where you want to experience what’s happening along with the characters. Scenes stretch out beyond the bounds of conventional wisdom, often caught in long takes while using a Dogme-style approach to editing, keeping us in the dark as to what could happen next. The black-and-white photography seems to be more of a ploy to keep the film simple rather than a fully thought-through stylistic choice. And while it’s a bit of a shame not to see the Dolomites in their full glory, it does help to stress the film’s unadorned approach.

As the title suggests, Fausto wants to do something really odd, but along the way we discover that he cannot truly commit to anything in his life. When asked about his factory job, he says that it’s temporary, despite working there since 1998. He has been paying off his car loan forever. There are no women in sight. You start rooting for him without even knowing what he might do next. It’s the magic of cinema that we can feel for people with such perversions. In one brilliant moment, Fausto describes the elation he felt when Italy won the 1982 world cup, besting Maradona’s Argentina, the greatest ever Brazil team and even the Germans. Almost every man has a story like this, making Fausto just like us. Right?

There is a touch of Ben Wheatley here, both in the handheld camerawork and the adherence to naturalism while something more sinister is lurking beneath the surface. The landscape plays a strange role, showing off the unique nature of South Tirol, mixing Austrian and Italian cultures while maintaining a strong independent streak and individual customs. It feels like a landscape stuck in time, especially when the local men, wearing their funny hats with feathers in them, sing a gorgeous multi-harmony ode to mountain life. It’s a beautiful moment in a bizarre film, which blends disparate tones and moods with ease. Never has cannibalism seemed so endearing.

Other Cannibals plays in the First Feature section of the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival, running from 12-28th November.

Fortuna – The Girl and the Giants (Fortuna)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM TALLINN

This is a film about children, but this is definitely not a film for children. A devastating mix of reality and fantasy that creates a provocative, chilling reverie, Fortuna — The Girl and the Giants is easily one of the standout films of the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival and perhaps a favourite for the best First Feature award. Coming across as something like The Double Life of Veronique filtered through the dark imagination of David Lynch, it establishes debut feature director Nicolangelo Gelormini as a fresh new voice in Italian cinema.

It tells the story of Nancy (Cristina Magnotti), a young and troubled girl with a feverish imagination. Unable to talk to her mother (Valeria Golino) about her problems, she is sent to an uncaring child psychiatrist (Pina Turco) who barely looks up from her phone. Meanwhile, her friends tell her that she is really called Fortuna, a magical princess from another planet. But when one of these friends falls out of the window, we realise that this isn’t a traditional fairy tale, but arthouse in service of profoundly dark emotions.

It’s probably best not to ruin any more of the plot, which doesn’t matter as much as the film’s strange atmosphere and overall emotional power. When watching the first half of the film, it’s better not to focus so much on story as elements of symmetry, harmony and architecture. We get a real sense of the apartment blocks that create a stifling and menacing atmosphere, captured at different angles and repeated at different times to give us a real sense of character, place and situation. To be honest, nothing really makes sense until the far more melancholic second half, which clarifies the situation while bringing its terror into full view.

Moving between a full aspect ratio and a 4:3 frame, the film refracts and comments upon itself to create a multi-layered and ultimately extremely moving tale. Utilising a double narrative approach that mixes elements of the music video — Gelormini’s background – and chilling contemporary horror, it rewards close attention and critical audience engagement.

While some of the early elements and strange diverting moments initially seem irrelevant to the plot and at times seem to be the director flexing his aesthetic muscles a little too much, they later provide a crucial imaginative atmosphere that begs for a repeat viewing. Most importantly, when the direction begs for a more nuanced and subtle approach, the film knows when to dial the bravura down.

Containing one of the most brutal “based on a true story” postscripts committed to film, the overall effect of Fortuna — The Girl and The Giants is seriously chilling. Anchored by a great child performance by Magnotti — who manages to express so much by doing so little — as well as a searching synth score with nods towards the sci-fi genre, Fortuna pays back its initial confusing tone in spades while giving viewers a lot to think about. Simply put, this is one of the most haunting films of the year.

Fortuna — The Girl and the Giants plays as part of the First Feature competition at Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival, running from 13th to 29th November.

Why Not You (Hochwald)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM TALLINN

The village of Hochwald is high up in the alps, only accessible by cable car or long, winding car journeys. In a German-speaking and conservative part of South Tyrol, this is a place firmly stuck in its ways. It’s definitely not a great place to be gay. For Mario (Thomas Prenn), who dreams of being a dancer on the television channel Rai 1, the atmosphere in the village — filled with lederhosen and oompah music — stifles his ambition.

It doesn’t help that his best friend Lenz (Noah Saavedra) is more interesting, more handsome, more intelligent and more liked than Mario. Much to Mario’s sadness, he is heading off to Rome, where he has been offered a scholarship. But Mario also sees this as an opportunity: perhaps he can also follow Lenz — with whom he shares a certain sexual tension — and finally realise his dream…

Not in Why Not You. It takes a severely dramatic left-field turn when the two men meet up in a gay club. Inspired by the Bataclan attacks, they are crashed and shot at by a group of fundamental Islamic terrorists. This introduces a third culture clash — not only Italian style versus Austrian conservatism, but both of those things combined against pure terrorist homophobia. Lenz is killed, leaving Mario alone to pick up the pieces and make sense of his life.

Post-traumatic stress disorder manifests itself in a variety of messy ways. It’s up to the creators of a film to try and corral those contradictory feelings into riveting drama. But here, Mario is more or less the same both before and after the accident, making him somewhat of a flat character. His random changes in behaviour, dress and temperament seem to be ways to make the film interesting and create a sense of contrast with his surrounding world, yet they never really manages to get us inside Mario’s head and sympathise with his plight.

The film is about so many different things — class, race, religion, drug addiction and sexual orientation. In trying to combine them all together, it ends up saying little of interest about any of these key conflicts. It’s a shame because there is so much potential in some of these intersecting ideas — especially when Mario takes a sudden interest in the lessons of Islam — but they aren’t picked up and developed in any meaningful way. While its heart seems to be in the right place, especially in its condemnation of hatred, and its nuanced portrayal of Islam, the sheer amount of different conflicts makes the film difficult to get into.

A large part of Why Not You’s ambition rests upon the shoulders of Thomas Prenn, a young actor who doesn’t seem to have the immense range that such a complicated and nuanced role needs. Even if a character’s actions don’t make sense, we at least need them to have a believable screen presence. Mario — who isn’t even a good dancer — never quite pops off the screen; giving this Alpine drama far more valleys than peaks.

Why Not You plays out of competition at the first feature strand of the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival, running from 13th to 29th November.

Maternal (Hogar)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

What constitutes motherhood? Is it something that is hereditary or something that can be earned? This is the question wrestled with in Maternal, which slyly reimagines the story of the Virgin Mary for modern times. A deeply Christian tale, both in its sense of empathy and its themes, Maternal is a precise chamber Italian-Argentinean co-production that wrestles with the meaning of motherhood, finding no easy answers yet imploring the viewer to bring their own faith and meaning to each scene.

It takes place almost entirely within an Italian nunnery in Argentina which doubles up as a sanctuary for single mothers. Either through abuse or paternal neglect, these women, some heavily pregnant, others already taking care of several kids, are given a free space to find their life anew under the patronage of the Catholic Church.

Maternal

Luciano (Agustina Malale), however, seems to be more concerned with meeting up with men than taking care of her own child Nina, who she tells to leave her alone while applying her make up. Her best friend, the heavily pregnant Fatima (Denise Carrizo), is rather different, hewing to the rules of the institution and finding solace in the comfort of the nuns. When the young Sister Paolo (Lidiya Liberman), a novate from Italy, arrives to take her final vows, and gets closer to Fati, the two women’s relationship is strained.

Like many Argentinian films, Maternal is a quiet and thoughtful movie, more dependent on implication than express, underlined meanings. To highlight this point, there is no non-diegetic score telling us how we should feel in any given moment — even the credits are simply accompanied by the sound of traffic. This is a movie of faces, shot with soft light and tender appreciation; we are invited to look and feel as they feel, to imagine what goes through their mind even if they won’t tell us. As we are given such a clear overview of the nunnery — a place awash in pure white cotton, soft billowy curtains and muted candles — and its various rules, it is easy to understand the implications of each scene. Additionally, there are no speaking role for men in this movie; their affects upon these woman more pronounced through their absence. By focusing solely on these women and their life within the nunnery walls, debut director Maura Delpero treads a delicate and focused line right up until the final frame.

Maternal

There is no judgement here. Instead Delpero equally weights the runtime between all three women, giving us ample time to understand their point of view. The central conflict is between the nuns, who are by nature celibate, and the mothers themselves: asking if they can really understand what it’s like to be a mother if they don’t have children of their own. This dramatic tension is heightened when Sister Paolo gets rather close to the neglected Nina, acting as a kind of mother figure herself. Is this right? Can she even be a mother? It’s worth considering that Mary, The Mother of God, herself was a virgin. Yet by resisting easy diagnosis, Maternal leaves it up to the viewer to decide.

Maternal debuted at Locarno Film Festival in the competition slate, when this piece was originally written. It premieres in the UK in October, as part of the BFI London Film Festival.