There's Still Tomorrow (2024)

Direction: Paola Cortellesi
Country: Italy

Paola Cortellesi, widely recognized in Italy as a TV presenter and comedian, as well as for her diverse roles in film, television, and theatre, makes a powerful directorial debut with There’s Still Tomorrow. This black-and-white feminist manifesto, which she co-wrote and stars in, is a bold political comedy-drama that confronts patriarchy head-on. It channels the spirit of classic Italian cinema, evoking the pink neorealism of directors like Luigi Comencini and Dino Risi, all while overflowing with style and determination. 

Set in the 1940s, the film strikes a delicate balance between laughs and tears as it follows the challenging life of Delia (Cortellesi), a hardworking woman who endures daily physical abuse at the hands of her obnoxious war veteran husband Ivano (Valerio Mastandrea). Instead of voicing her suffering, Delia chooses to silently endure the pain and quietly save money, all while plotting her own form of resistance. 

Infused with a quiet yet righteous anger, the film is caricatural in many ways, disguising the scenes of brutality with romantic songs and dancing moves. It even facilitaties a bit here and there in terms of plot, but remains compelling, vivid, and intoxicating. With its strong visuals and a crucial message of resilience and hope, this film holds nothing back—and what’s not to love about that?

Cortellesi shines, addressing the sensitive topic of domestic violence with tact and a deliberate avoidance of melodrama, opting instead for a slightly offbeat tone that is further enhanced by the film's anachronistic soundtrack. The surprising ending takes viewers to a completely different direction, and I was amazed how much I started to care about the main character. There’s Still Tomorrow drives home a narrative that is both deeply engaging and impactful, successfully resonating with audiences while delivering a powerful message of women’s emancipation.

La Chimera (2024)

Direction: Alice Rohrwacher
Country: Italy

Alice Rohrwacher’s films, notably Happy as Lazaro (2018) and The Wonders (2014), captivated audiences with their intriguing narratives. La Chimera, her fourth feature, stands out as a haunting archeological fable set in Tuscany during the 1980s. Rather than relying on suspense, Rohrwacher favors ambiance, crafting a story that delves into a painful past, an inebriated present, and an uncertain future. 

The story revolves around Arthur (Josh O’Connor), a nearly-spectral English wanderer with a supernatural ability to locate Etruscan artifacts in tombs and underground chambers dating back over 2000 years. Recently released from jail for smuggling these artifacts, Arthur, reluctantly rejoins his gang of “tomb diggers” while awaiting the return of his departed love, Beniadina. He also reconnects with Benidiana’s welcoming mother, Flora (Isabella Rossellini), and gets involved with her Brazilian student/maid, Italia (Carol Duarte), a surreptitious mother of two. 

When at its sharpest, Rohrwacher’s script exudes lyricism in its bendable trajectory, casting a spell on viewers. However, the comedic elements are overshadowed by the emotional crisis of an unpredictable, alienated protagonist with a strong inclination for sloppiness. Love and death are squeezed into an eccentric cinematic pot that, in a sense, harkens back to classics from Pasolini, Scola, Fellini, and Cocteau. Some nostalgic moments are magical and profound in a film full of nudges and nuance. This is simultaneously a fascinating character study, a poignant drama edited with breaks of slapstick humor, and an acute piece of psychological realism that connects the living and the dead.

Even with some unnecessary lengths, La Chimera provides a singular experience in a kind-hearted fashion that allows the movie to resonate with more warmth than what was initially thought. O’Connor delivers an engrossing performance, complemented by Duarte and Rossellini, who are a pleasure to watch.

Ennio (2024)

Direction: Giuseppe Tornatore
Country: Italy 

This illuminating, elucidative, and enthralling documentary delves into the life and work of Ennio Morricone, the most popular and prolific composer of the 20th Century. Directed by Giuseppe Tornatore (Cinema Paradiso, 1988; The Legend of 1900, 1998), the film establishes a genuine closeness with the artist. Classic in form yet highly informative, it is neatly structured and strikes a perfect balance. Tornatore skillfully intersperses interviews with key figures such as filmmakers, musicians, screenwriters, and collaborators, alongside insightful footage fragments from Morricone's different career phases.

Throughout the documentary, viewers uncover treasures from the legendary composer's journey. Morricone's father initially envisioned him following in his footsteps as a trumpet player, never imagining he would become one of the greatest film scorers in history. Described as enigmatic, discreet, serious, crazy, and innovative, Morricone candidly discusses his frustrations and triumphs, expressing only one regret: not collaborating with Stanley Kubrick on his 1971 masterpiece, Clockwork Orange. Despite grappling with criticism and feelings of guilt due to his involvement in film, the composer pushed himself even harder, consistently displaying originality and a penchant for experimentation.

Ennio takes audiences on an emotional journey without descending into melodrama, partially thanks to the masterful editing by Massimo Quaglia and Annalisa Schillaci, who keep things fluid and interesting. After watching this documentary, viewers may find themselves drawn deeper into Morricone's brilliant soundtracks and compelled to explore his musical genius further.

Io Capitano (2023)

Direction: Matteo Garrone
Country: Italy / Belgium/ France

Io Capitano is a breathtaking migrant odyssey directed and co-written by Matteo Garrone, renowned for works such as Gomorrah (2008) and Dogman (2018). The film, devoid of cynicism and cheap sentimentality, follows the perilous journey of two 16-year-old Senegalese boys who decide to leave Dakar for Europe. Their journey, full of surprises and strong emotions, exposes the harsh realities of racism, exploitation, and inhumanity, while also providing a lesson in courage, humility, and humanism. 

Garrone navigates new territory with a firm hand, shedding light on the tenebrous predicaments associated with migration and raising awareness of human rights violations. Beyond its value as a fictional tale, Io Capitano serves as a profound statement on the challenges faced by migrants. 

The cinematography by Paolo Carnera captures vast expanses of desert and ocean, adding to the film's visual appeal, while newcomer actor Seydou Sarr, who is like a shinning beam of light in a dark place, delivers a credible performance, conveying innocence and affability. Even though the script may not reach great majesty, Io Capitano remains an indispensable movie about a disturbing global issue with no immediate solution at sight. Its path evokes both touching and shocking emotions simultaneously.

Kidnapped (2023)

Direction: Marco Bellocchio
Country: Italy

From Marco Bellocchio, the director of Fists in the Pocket (1965), Vincere (2009), and The Traitor (2019), comes Kidnapped, an exposé of a period in history when the Church wielded moral violence without responsibility or accountability to any authority.  In this film, Bellocchio, without exceptional brilliance but with the socio-political edge that characterizes his works, portrays the true story of Edgardo Mortara (Enea Sala), a six-year-old Jewish boy who was forcibly taken from his family by Pope Pius IX (Paolo Pierobon) after rumors of a secret baptism. The film is set in 1858, and Edgardo's parents, Momolo (Fausto Russo Alesi) and Marianna (Barbara Ronchi), wage an inglorious battle to reclaim him. Even with the scandal of several such abductions becoming public and Rome being liberated, it's difficult to erase a lifetime of brainwashing. 

There isn’t a moment that is not watchable but those moments could have added much more to the whole if better planned and executed. Despite needing a darker ambiance and more polished dialogue, the film is visually striking and well scored by the dramatic sounds of Fabio Massimo Capogrosso.

Kidnapped may require some patience from the audience as not offers a narrative that only dazzles intermittently. It’s a film centered on unanswered prayers, life-altering religious conversions, and soul-damaging submissions and humiliations, once again placing the Catholic Church at the center of criticism. Despite the formless ramble of its structure and the emotional distance that impairs some its scenes, the film tackles an interesting topic and features reasonably solid performances.

Last Night of Amore (2023)

Direction: Andrea Di Stefano
Country: Italy

Embracing gritty neo-noir flavors, Last Night of Amore is the latest film by Italian writer-director Andrea Di Stefano, whose previous works include Escobar: Paradise Lost (2014) and The Informer (2019).

This is the story of Milan police lieutenant Franco Amore (played with charisma by Pierfrancesco Favino), known not only for his adamantine honesty but also for never having shot a gun over the course of his 35-year career. On the eve of his retirement, his life is turned upside down after an on-the-side security job goes wrong. Unexpectedly, it’s his super ambitious wife, Viviana (Linda Caridi), who pulls him out of a deep, dark hole. 

Shot in 35mm, this cop thriller mounted with a mix of plausible and beyond-belief scenarios, has its narrative set against the backdrop of a heated, disturbing Milan where the Italian and Chinese mafias cooperate with cynicism. Di Stefano knows his way around the genre and provides the adequate classic structure and the desperate, nocturnal atmosphere to make it noir. Even so, stalling moments found in the loopy middle part of the film weaken a tale that is only lifted up again by an amusing epilogue. Moreover, the Chinese characters are depicted as caricatures of themselves and never really look scary or even serious. 

Not even close to mind-blowing, Last Night of Amore still comes shrouded in an acceptable aura of obscurity that triggers curiosity.

Padre Pio (2023)

Direction: Abel Ferrara
Country: Italy / Germany

Padre Pio, a German-Italian production directed by the peculiar Abel Ferrara (Bad Lieutenant, 1992; The Funeral, 1996; Tommaso, 2019), is a joyless, graceless faith-related drama that straddles between esoteric turmoil and political activism. Over the course of this biopic, the focus scatters into many directions, the handheld camera makes you dizzy, and the excitement is limited. 

Despite obstacles, the darkness of the era (the story is set at the end of World War I) is well portrayed and Shia LaBeouf ’s performance is positive. The most striking parts of the movie are those in which Pio, who had arrived at a Capuchin monastery in the poor city of San Giovanni Rotondo, opens up with his God. Suffering tremendously with what he sees (greed and slavery are devouring the town) and with what he hears (some confessions are nauseatingly perverse), he is often attacked by the devil himself. Still, he refuses to abandon hope.

The fearless Ferrara tries to tackle this fascinating character but loses traction in a film that, asking the right questions, never finds dramatically persuasive answers. There’s not enough zest to the storytelling, which rather moves bluntly between demonic horror and somber spectacle. Choppy, unpolished and undeveloped, Padre Pio will certainly divide audiences.

Amanda (2023)

Direction: Carolina Cavalli
Country: Italy 

The surefooted direction by debutant Carolina Cavalli in Amanda - an off-kilter comedy with wealthy, borderline teenagers at the center - couldn’t have had a more adequate performance by Benedetta Porcaroli, a name to look for in the future.

Carrying large amounts of irony and sarcasm, the film follows the whimsical 24-year-old title character (Porcaroli), whose permissive mother (Monica Nappo), the wealthy owner of a pharmaceutical chain, allows her to slack 24/7. Amanda lives disgusted and obsessed with not having friends. Struggling with ennui and desperately craving connections, she gets to the point of inviting her mother’s maid to join her at almost-empty rave parties.

Her miserable existence gains purpose when she realizes that a once-close childhood friend, Rebecca (Galatéa Bellugi), is more lonely and depressive than she is, and never leaves her room. With an unyielding tenacity, Amanda’s new mission is to drag her up from the bottom she hit a long time ago. 

Vapid at times, and with a deft camerawork refusing to cope with the story's confined temperament, the film is full of artifice to the point of absurdity. But that may just be the point of Cavalli, who keeps the humor, the drama and, let's face it, the goofy undertones that make this portrait of Italian bourgeoisie more derisive. Amanda is never less than provocative as its foolish characters challenge one another in strange modes.

Leonora Addio (2023)

Direction: Paolo Taviani
Country: Italy 

Italian filmmaker Paolo Taviani dedicates Leonora Addio to his late brother, Vittorio, with whom he worked all his life. Together, they won the Berlin Golden Bear in 2012 with Caesar Must Die, in which inmates of Rebibbia Prison perform Shakespeare. Now, directing alone, Taviani won the prize again, with this lugubrious drama composed of two parts. The first of which set in post-war Italy and centered around the funeral of playwright Luigi Pirandello (awarded Nobel Prize in Literature in 1934), whose ashes are to be taken from Rome to his hometown in Sicilia’s countryside. The second part is a decent staging of The Nail, one of Pirandello’s short stories, where an immigrant Italian boy kills a young girl in Brooklyn.

This is not the first time that Pirandello has inspired Taviani; Kaos (1984) and You Laugh (1998) are two more favorable cases. Politically charged, the film is a dead-serious, mournful ballad with sparse lines and inexistent twists. At once sketchy and cerebral, this marginally intriguing film struggles to keep its disparate parts together. Skimming the surface is not elucidative enough about Taviani’s purpose, and I really feel he didn’t succeed in this aspect. 

The centre fails to hold, lashed around in an intellectual straitjacket, so the plot never wraps up appropriately. Although crossed by some beautiful cinematic imagery, Leonora Addio hardly seems more than an experimental exercise.

The Eight Mountains (2023)

Direction: Felix Van Groeningen, Charlotte Vandermeersch
Country: Italy / Belgium / other

This adaptation of Paolo Cognetti's book by the Belgian couple Felix Van Groeningen (The Misfortunates, 2009; The Broken Circle Breakdown, 2012) and Charlotte Vandermeersch reveals quality in both the writing and direction. It’s also convincingly acted by Luca Marinelli (Martin Eden, 2019) and Alessandro Borghi (The First King, 2019), who worked together prior to this film in Claudio Caligari’s Don’t Be Bad (2015).

The well-meaning attempt to depict an unfailing, genuine friendship between two men with very different personalities throughout the years drifts away from sloppiness and pettiness. The topics are treated objectively, bringing us valuable humane feelings. In a profusion of sensitivity, The Eight Mountains sneaks up on you, annotating the roots, visions, and choices of Pietro (Marinelli), a man from the city who is curious about the world, and Bruno (Borghi), a man born in and faithful to the mountains. They first met at a very young age in Grana, a tiny Northwestern Italian village near the Alps. 

Displaying a rare delicacy and sincerity, the film captures these childhood friends navigating the peaks and valleys of life. In their distinct paths, both find pleasant discoveries but also tremendous difficulties at some point. The Eight Mountains is a somewhat long saga that, nevertheless, is hard to forget. Imposing itself without flamboyance, this is powerful cinema one can compare to reading a good old novel. The narrative gains deeper meaning with the magnificent mountainous landscape of Aosta Valley, beautifully captured by the lens of cinematographer Ruben Impens, and a peaceful folk and country-flavored soundtrack by the Swedish singer-songwriter Daniel Norgren.

Lord of the Ants (2022)

Direction: Gianni Amelio
Country: Italy

With Lord of the Ants, Italian director Gianni Amelio is far from his glory days, built on the basis of films such as Lamerica (1994) and Il Ladro di Bambini (1992). His newest effort is a biopic of the Italian poet, playwright and director Aldo Braibanti, who was jailed in 1968 due to a Fascist-era anti-gay law. He was sentenced to nine years in prison on charges of duress against an 18-year-old student who would become the love of his life. 

The cast is not outstanding, apart from Luigi Lo Cascio (he made his debut in 2000 with Tullio Giordana’s One Hundred Steps) who plays the title character with intellectual superiority. The relationships between the characters seem contrived or detached from emotion in a somewhat cold, chewy film that doesn’t get better with time, not even when the camera is turned to a courtroom. 

Amelio simply chronicles the facts and lets naivety take control of things. The dialogue goes from philosophical and poetic to sloppy and banal, while the characters don’t pull enough truth from a story that really happened but surely with a lot more intensity than it’s presented here. Lamentably, Lord of the Ants, even demonstrating solid values at its core, loses its voice to torpidity.

A Chiara (2022)

Direction: Jonas Carpignano
Country: Italy 

With a focused handheld camera, in an observant style close to documentary, Jonas Carpignano confirms the growing scope of his cinema in A Chiara. This drama film, being realistic and objective as well as rugged and heartbreaking, is the last part of his Calabrian trilogy around the port town of Gioia Tauro, following Mediterranea (2015) and A Ciambra (2017). For this purpose, he filmed a real family, the Rotolos.

The last chapter depicts the tribulations of Chiara (Swamy Rotolo), a tenacious 15-year-old student who decides to investigate the mysterious disappearance of her father (Claudio Rotolo) after an important family celebration. Ploughing a lonely furrow, from doubt to doubt, from clue to clue, Chiara sadly realizes that her father works for the ‘Ndrangheta, the Calabrian mafia-type organization that employs so many families in the region. More than anything, this astute teenager needs to understand what’s going on. She’s fiercely determined to know the truth, facing obstacles and maturely judging the options that may lead her to a better future. 

A Chiara is more family-oriented in its vision than a stereotyped mafia thriller. Despite the protracted party scenes at the beginning, Carpignano signs an honest film in which the atmosphere is heavy and the realism magnified by the fact that the mafia members, played by non-professional actors, are of the ordinary type. The young protagonist, who was first noticed in the casting of A Ciambra, fulfilled with distinction the role that the director had in mind for her. 

You will feel some suffocation among the tension and friction, and the result can be slightly disturbing in its forthrightness.

The King of Laughter (2022)

Direction: Mario Martone
Country: Italy

The Great Beauty’s star, Toni Servillo, took to his role like a duck to water in The King of Laughter, an upbeat biopic-comedy centered on the beloved Neapolitan actor and playwright Eduardo Scarpetta, whose dedication to theater and illegitimate procreation were remarkably consistent. The film, co-written by Ippolita di Majo and director Mario Martone (Leopardi, 2014; Capri Revolution, 2018), who ensures that all conflicting moments are leavened with a light touch, depicts Scarpetta’s complex family environment as well as his legal dispute with the famous ultra-nationalist poet/playwright Gabriele D’Annunzio, who sued him for writing a parody of his tragedy The Daughter of Iorio. 

Teeming with staging lucidity, a dynamic pace and some intentional excess, this is a tasty portraiture of the theater buff whose clownish acting is taken to a hilarious effect during a memorable court session. His inflamed speech, packing in a lot of insightful remarks about the Italian art and political criticism, is pure laughter. 

Both the lively rhythm and classic filmmaking are adequate, in a campy but effervescent tribute film that makes for a spikily funny watch. This is also an opportunity to watch Servillo chewing up the screen for 133 minutes and making the show outrageously entertaining. You’ll be likely to leave the theater with a smile on your face, bathed in the evocative soundtrack of Neapolitan songs, and the sharp imagery unfalteringly tuned by expert cinematographer Renato Barta, who worked with masters Louis Malle, Alain Resnais, and Jacques Rivette in the past.

The Tale of King Crab (2022)

Direction: Alessio Rigo de Righi, Matteo Zoppis
Country: Italy 

The Tale of King Crab, a slow-burning folk tale, is more entertaining and atmospheric than essential viewing. What I've just said doesn’t take away the merits achieved with the categorically photographed images (the film was shot in 16mm), a sublime mise-en-scene that feels completely appropriate for the 19th-century ambience, and the volatile moodiness and cinematic poetry that, despite the slow pace, provide a certain rhythmic backbone to the story. 

Co-directed and co-written by Alessio Rigo de Righi and Matteo Zoppis, who sign here their first fictional feature, the film tells the legend of Luciano (newcomer Gabriele Silli), a depressed man who returns to his secluded hometown in the Tuscia region, after a period of time spent in Rome. Seen by the villagers as a drunkard, a madman, an aristocrat, and a saint, Luciano takes the path of gold-digging adventure after being extradited to Tierra del Fuego, in the far south of Argentina. 

This bittersweet picture is as odd as it is mesmerizing. Even if over-ambitious at times, it still unveils disenchantment, disgrace, survival, and avidity with a personal touch. Yet, some connotations with Lucrecia Martel’s Zama and Werner Herzog’s Aguirre are not unreasonable. Crab is not an easy chew. But if you find a way to crack open its austere exterior, there is a treasure to be found.

The Hand of God (2021)

Direction: Paolo Sorrentino
Country: Italy

The Italian director Paolo Sorrentino - who gave us reasons to smile with phenomenal dramas such as Il Divo (2008) and The Great Beauty (2013) - weighs on his alienating teenage years in Naples. The Hand of God is an intimate, often disconcerting coming-of-age film, which not being a massive hit like the previously mentioned titles, is well capable to achieve cinematic cult with its profound sense of nostalgia.

Boasting some grandiose shots and sharpening them through the remarkable cinematography of Daria D'Antonio, the film is a tribute from Sorrentino to a younger self; one whose only certainty was to become a filmmaker. It’s also a hymn of praise and madness to his hometown, whose inhabitants went berserk when the Argentine soccer star Diego Maradona arrived in the 1980s to play in the local club. As the course of the story documents, life has much more than just soccer, and the protagonist - the young Fabietto Schisa (Filippo Scotti) - expresses that feeling in the face of tragedy and uncertainty. 

On one hand, there's a certain tangible quality in the way that Sorrentino molds his extravagant characters, but one also finds some explorative awkwardness in many scenes that feel very Fellini-esque. The result, despite the ups and downs, is touching. Wonderfully bittersweet. 

Combining fantasy and reality, tears and laughter, sports and arts, as well as the vulgar and the sensitive aspects of life, The Hand of God might not be a masterpiece but is certainly one of a kind.

Yara (2021)

Direction: Marco Tulio Giordana
Country: Italy

Italian director Marco Tulio Giordana is most known for an epic historical drama film called The Best of Youth (2003). Now, working from a crippled script by Graziano Diana, the filmmaker delivers an unthrilling film based on a true crime/investigation that took place in a small town in the province of Bergamo, north of Italy, in 2010. 

Around 6:30 AM, 13-year-old gymnast Yara Gambirasio (Chiara Bono) vanishes without a trace when walking the short route (less than half a mile) that takes her from the local sport center to her home. The case gets wide media attention, and several possibilities are considered: did she run away from home? Was she kidnapped? Maybe a possible vendetta against her father? A lift from someone she knew?

Three months after, her body was found in a grassy field in an advanced state of decay. The public prosecutor, Letitia Ruggeri (Isabella Ragonese), only has some DNA traces to help her reach the murderer.

Apart from scattered pointed commentary about how the Italian authorities deal with this kind of cases, or the silly dispute between the police forces and the Carabinieri (Italy’s gendarmerie), the film is marked by predictability and ennui, barely scratching the surface of other mystery-crime thrillers with a similar topic. The uncharismatic actors don’t make a strong impression either, and nothing but a big yawn is elicited from this flat, heavy-handed TV-like movie.

Bad Tales (2021)

Direction: Damiano and Fabio D’Innocenzo
Country: Italy

D’Innocenzo Brothers’ slow-burning sophomore feature, Bad Tales, managed to get much more attention than their 2018 debut, Boys Cry, confirming the strong screenwriting and directional abilities of the twosome.

This oppressive, sharp-eyed drama film takes place over the summer holidays in the Roman urban area of Spinaceto, where a girl’s diary written in green ink takes us to a sordid tale that, according to the narrator, is half-true.

The main protagonists are some cold, apathetic kids - Dennis (Tommaso Di Cola), Geremia (Justin Korovkin), Viola (Giulia Melillo) and Alessia (Giulietta Rebeggiani) - who are also the main victims of a suburban dysfunction that affects a messed up neighborhood. Depraved of real affection, parental education and adequate school orientation, the youngsters are on their own, capable of committing evil actions without a flicker of emotion. In turn, the fathers (especially them) - Bruno (Elio Germano), Pietro (Max Malatesta) and Amelio (Gabriel Montesi) - often show improper behavior in front of their children, reacting to some situations as if they have bipolar disorder or if their kids were their age. In parallel to all this, we also follow the sad path of Vilma (Ileana D’Ambra), an immature older neighbor who is clearly not ready for the child she carries in her womb. 

Mounted with well-developed characters and preserving tension at all times, Bad Tales is a terribly cruel, darkly compelling, sometimes-obscene film that perfectly articulates the toxicity and psychological consequences that result from the severe alienation between parents and children. Technically, the film achieves satisfactory results in the cinematography, editing and art direction departments.

Siberia (2020)

Direction: Abel Ferrara
Country: Italy / Germany / other

Populated by recollections, disturbing dreams, inner fears, symbology, conjuration and eroticism, Siberia, the second film of Abel Ferrara starring Willem Dafoe in 2020, fascinates with some scattered opaque scenes but ultimately disappoints. 

Dafoe is Clint, a man looking for his lost soul in a remote Siberian place where he used to go fishing with his late father. The film is brusquely edited, displaying a few bizarre scenes that are intertwined with ghostly appearances and inexplicable interactions, suggesting relationships that the movie only hints at. With the backdrop continually changing from the snowy desolation to the desert to the woods, the film throws in a great number of elements without revealing things clearly. It hides instead, merging visual bafflement and philosophical inquiry. Hence, it wouldn't really surprise me if some viewers found the results tactless, since Ferrara loses momentum in tacking countless details that become inconsequent and abominably tireless with the time.

Unlike the engrossing Tommaso, Ferrara’s previous work, Siberia is a dysfunctional film whose sweeping ambition falls short of consistent narrative moments and, according to that, is forced to deal with its monumental incapacity to create a cohesive whole. An artistic sabotage, I dare to say.

The Life Ahead (2020)

Direction: Edoardo Ponti
Country: Italy

Based on the 1975 novel The Life Before Us by French author Romain Gary, The Life Ahead is one of those sad cases where the execution fails to do justice to a potentially great story. While we bath in the competent cinematography of Angus Hudson, the tediousness associated to the clichés allowed by director Edoardo Ponti becomes the film’s worst enemy. Aggravating the scenario, the soundtrack is tacky, while the scenes, one after another, lack authenticity.

The story follows Momo (Ibrahima Gueye), a 12-year-old Senegalese orphan living in an Italian seaside town.  He's under the care of the aging Dr. Cohen (Renato Carpentieri), who entrusts him to the Jewish former prostitute Madame Rosa (the great Sophia Loren in her second collaboration with her son Ponti), a former prisoner in Auschwitz.

While the latter is giving occasional signs of dementia, Momo, recently expelled from school, works for a local drug dealer (Massimiliano Rossi). The anger mixed with the bad influences presumably make him a dangerous kid, but both Rosa’s friends - Lola (Abril Zamora), a former male boxing champ turned trans mother, and Hamil (Babak Karimi), a generous Muslim owner shop - see the contrary.

The performance of the young debutant actor has proved to be the most positive aspect of an unsatisfying tale where the energy peters out at a high speed, leaving you empty. Shamelessly manipulative, this formulaic debacle fails to offer something new; and even more important, something solid.

Martin Eden (2020)

Direction: Pietro Marcello
Country: Italy

Told with an interesting, old-fashioned-style charisma and counting on the crisp acting skills from Luca Marinelli and Jessica Cressy, this hooky cinematic version of Jack London’s 1909 novel Martin Eden exudes political turmoil and dramatizes a passion-fueled yet ill-fated romance marked by social inequalities.
Marinelli, winner of the Volpi Cup at Venice Film Festival, plays the title character with zeal, outlining an individual personality that changes drastically with the time. 

Martin Eden, a penniless brave sailor with a knack for words, decides he wants to be a writer shorter after he meets Elena Orsini (Cressy), an elegant upper class young woman with whom he instantly falls in love. The relentless man becomes self-instructed, writing about the world of sadness, addiction and despair that he knows so well, but employing a raw, incisive style that doesn’t please the aristocrats. He then befriends Russ Brissenden (Carlo Cecchi), a socialist poet who owns a local newspaper, and his ideas become centered in individualism rather than the collectivism that unites slaving workers against greedy bosses. Naturally, such a rebellious behavior causes a painful rupture in his relationship with Elena. Despite the success of his literary work, Eden feels helpless to prevent that loneliness, doleful sarcasm and perpetual bitterness take possession of his next stage of life. 

Writer/director Pietro Marcello, who is also a documentarian, opts for a cheesy soundtrack, but compensates with a compelling storytelling and stalwart imagery, driving us into the strange lyrical world of a character, who, straddling between two different worlds, never vacillates in the purpose to be true to himself.

Hence, if you go for the romance, prepare yourself to be engulfed by a socio-political context that turns out as poignant and merciless as the love story itself.