Review by
Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Maura Delpero
Starring: Giuseppe De Domenico, Tommaso Ragno, Martina Scrinzi, Roberta Rovelli, Carlotta Gamba, Orietta Notari, Sara
Serraiocco
High up in the remoter regions of the early morning Italian alps, a
late-teen girl milks a cow. Her motions are executed with practised care;
vitally so, as the resultant lactate will form breakfast for the crowded
household which she is a part of (prior to this scene, shot in tableaus
with all the halcyon quietude of a painting, we have been shown children
sleeping three to a bed within the various rooms of her modest family
cottage). The sequence is an early assertion of Vermiglio's meticulous
construction of verisimilitude: writer/director Maura Delpero's period
detail is consistent throughout, yet it is scenes like this, where we see
characters actively connecting with their environment, that fully immerse
us into the rustic universe of her film.
The year is 1944, yet the war is
something occurring upon a different plane to the snowed peaks and dense
forestry of these alpine environs. Nonetheless, trouble, and narrative
triggers, occur with the arrival of two deserters from the Italian army...
Named for the mountain village where it is set, Vermiglio is a study of an
enclosed community and its relationship with an encroaching wider world.
The aforementioned dairy hand, Lucia Graziadei (Martina Scrinzi), at a
threshold stage in her life and maturity, is our focal point as the
village reckons with change.
Garlanded with festival awards and nominations (the film is Italy's Oscar
hopeful), Vermiglio is utterly gorgeous. Early on, Mikhail Krichman's
cinematography essays the endless verdant ice of the dolomites in striking
sweeps of bright white and deep greens (a shame to watch this via a
screener): his exteriors have the mien of Caspar David Friedrich, with the
denizens of the Graziadei family depicted tiny against towering nature
(significantly soundtracked by Vivaldi, the film will take us through four
seasons of the landscape, with the climate of each quarter impacting the
village differently). The interiors are more Vermeer, with natural light
and a muted palette of blues and greys deployed as we switch between the
Graziadei homestead and the village school, where patriarch and village
statesman Cesare (Tommaso Ragno) is the sole teacher; his weekday class
made up of children of all ages (some of whom are his own), and an adult
Saturday lesson wherein the deserters, among other village men, learn
English.
Vermiglio is a cold world in more ways than the atmosphere. The
perpetually pregnant matriarch (Roberta Rovelli) chastises Cesare for
spending money on vinyl records, such as the above-mentioned Vivaldi,
arguing that she must "count the children's potatoes" when serving supper.
A baby is born with critical issues at a house birth (a recurrent
situation) and Cesare stoically accepts that "if God wants to take back
this child, there is nothing we can do." Furthermore, the parents can only
afford to send one of their many children to school, with the rest
expected to stay in the village with all its rigid simplicities.
While
there is love and care in the family, the community is sequestered. Links
to a world outside - the records, Cesare's secret stash of
proto-pornographic images, the soldiers - bring promise of freedoms beyond
the mountains, but at a certain price. Middle child Ada (Rachele Potrich
in an astonishing performance) experiences an awakening looking at the
monochrome smut, yet it is an understanding of a sexuality doomed to be
unfulfilled. Similarly, is the rapid pace which Lucia falls in love, gets
with child, and ultimately marries army runaway Pietro (Giuseppe De
Domenico), catalysed by a need to escape, to feel something vital and
different?
As in Eden, another simple paradise beholden to rules regarding
opportunities for women, Lucia's romance is a whim which doesn't portend
well for her, or the family, when it transpires that Pietro's connections
and obligations to the world at large are more fatefully meaningful than
he at first made clear.
In the deft hands of Delpero, who cut her teeth
making documentaries, we view a slow unfolding of events, the inevitable
turn of the seasons, as a deeply engaged observer; even watching a
character washing bed linen is rendered utterly riveting. Nonetheless,
despite the severity of the community and the inclement conditions,
Delpero's storytelling is light and inviting, even (via the younger cast)
including flashes of humour in moments of warmth which feel like sun on
the face. Perhaps, in the manner of giddied Lucia, you too will fall in
love with this completely accomplished film.
Vermiglio is in UK/ROI cinemas from
January 17th.
