The cold afternoon sun illuminates the pulsating arteries of Rome: in this body, instead of red blood cells, people flow, each with their own past, experiences and aspirations.
Nell’incipit della Strada di Swann, Marcel Proust ricorda come da piccolo amasse osservare le immagini proiettate dalla lanterna magica: vere e proprie apparizioni che raccontavano leggende, come in una vetrata vacillante e passeggera. Su un’altura avvolta nella nebbia al confine con l’Iran, si distinguono le silhouettes di un uomo e un ragazzo a cavallo: il giovane controlla lo schermo di un computer portatile, nel tentativo di connettersi alla rete internet e acquistare l’occorrente per riportare in vita un vecchio proiettore analogico, rispolverato da un ex proiezionista dell’URSS. Manca però l’elemento imprescindibile per far funzionare la lanterna magica: la luce, data da una semplice eppure introvabile lampadina.
What would one sacrifice for a few crumbs of love after a lifetime of starvation? Perhaps even one’s own freedom. Madame Ida investigates the consequences of lack of love through a tale steeped in tragedy and rich with symbolism.
La vita del piccolo Emilio (Marco Fiore) si muove tra due dimensioni differenti: da una parte, la concreta quotidianità di un bambino nell’Italia fascista del 1936; dall’altra, le avventure vissute dal suo eroe, Sandokan, tra i libri che gli regala suo zio. Ma cosa succede quando queste due dimensioni si intrecciano?
“…(the nuns) taught us there are two ways through life: the way of Nature and the way of Grace. You have to choose which one you’ll follow.” This quote from Terrence Malick’s The Treeof Life could limpidly sum up the story of the shepherd Zhenping, the protagonist of the documentary TheShepherd, if the word “grace” were replaced with the word “love.”
The vast grasslands of Inner Mongolia provide the background for this intimate human parable that encapsulates, in its poverty and cinematic minimalism, a crucial moment in one man’s life. In his first medium-length film, Yufei Zhao directs – with a dry and algid black-and-white – the monotonous life of the shepherd, who takes animals out to pasture every day; these creatures fill his loneliness and become his only company besides his elderly mother, the only person he interacts with daily. The friends he used to spend time with are now married, and the two brothers who used to live with him have now passed away. The resetting of this household’s life rhythm is suddenly set in motion again by an interference created by the arrival of his still-living brother, who comes to visit, along with his wife, the family in these endless, uninhabited areas. The visit disrupts their habits: in a place as unfamiliar to them as a restaurant, the brother proposes that Zhenping find another woman to settle down with. To thus follow that way of love, a way the shepherd has not followed for years.
However, Zhenping’s life is deeply rooted in nature by now: framed by the hills, the daily walk with his sheep remains the happiest, most enlivening prospect compared to a new path – or life – to be taken, with all the obstacles and dark pitfalls it might hold for him. For a man experiencing old age, this darkness is no longer bearable; as a result, he will wait patiently and painfully for the flow of life to reach its end.
I’m Not Everything I Want to Be is a biographical documentary in the second level: through the overlap of an extensive photographic archive and meticulously written personal diaries, the film retraces, step by step, from 1986 to the present day, the unceasing search for identity by Czech photographer Libuše Jarcovjáková.
A Man Imagined is an intimate and painful portrait of Lloyd, a homeless man with schizophrenia, who recounts his life from his childhood, moving between reality and imagination.
If during the 42nd edition of the Turin Film Festival, dedicated to Marlon Brando, the audience had the opportunity to see again the most famous characters played by the actor on the big screen, the festival chose for its closure a film that abandons the vision of Brando as an actor, to show him as a person.
Waltzing with Brando chronicles a specific time in the life of Brando (Billy Zane), who at the peak of his career in the 1970s, decided to build a resort on a Tahitian island, collaborating with architect Bernand Judge (Jon Heder). This work explores the personality of the well-known actor, who is portrayed here as an ordinary man (or, at least, in a stubborn attempt to live life as if he were), a lover of nature and quietness, with the great dream of staying in Tahiti forever. Disdainful, ironic, often polemical, this version of Brando manages to entertain since he is put on the same level as the viewer, without any reverence.
Hollywood’s here is only a distant glare, and it is sometimes evoked from the actor’s critical point of view, which rails against it denouncing its sloth and false myths. Nonetheless, it is not able to reach the paradisiacal shores where Brando spends his days. Even in the few scenes set on the set-opening a glimpse into a wry, spontaneously talented, extraordinarily affable Brando-the industrial logics do not seem to undermine the playful atmosphere typical of Tahitian scenes.
The real protagonist, however, is Bernard Judge, characterized by a social awkwardness that is, at times, overly exaggerated. The meta-cinematic irreverence entrusted to him-often addressing the audience directly, breaking the fourth wall-is weakly attuned to the concrete atmosphere of the film. Above all, it further exasperates a character who suffers mercilessly (albeit programmatically) from the comparison with Brando, who is instead endowed with a subtle irony congenial to the narrative and is brought to life thanks to the striking resemblance that Billy Zane intercepts.
The entertaining stories of the main characters are framed in real postcards, tinged with warm colors, showing a cozy and warm Tahiti. However, although the film cheers and hits the mark with its sharp political critiques, the story often seems to get stuck in unnecessarily stretched subplots, impoverishing the main plot, which ultimately lacks strength and substance.
Amy Adams fills the shoes of a monstrous new mother in Marielle Heller’s latest film, based on Rachel Yoder’s homonymous novel and presented out of competition for its Italian premiere at the Torino Film Festival.
Controluce – the documentary by Tony Saccucci, presented at the 42nd Torino Film Festival and produced by Luce Cinecittà – is an intense reflection on the life and work of Adolfo Porry-Pastorel, one of the leading figures in early 20th-century Italian photography. The movie skillfully combines archival footage and fictional sequences, creating a visual dialogue that surprises with its harmony and guides the viewer into a distant yet remarkably contemporary era.
It is impossible not to feel perplexed after seeing AmicheMai (2024) by Maurizio Nichetti, the director, screenwriter and actor best known for his surreal comedy, he returned to directing twenty-three years after his last film Honolulu Baby (2001) with a comedy on the road that sees two protagonists played by Angela Finocchiaro and Serra Yilmaz.
Jenny (Emma Drogunova) and Bubbles (Paul Wollin) share a relationship where love and addiction are intertwined. Despite her pregnancy, Jenny cannot give up methamphetamine, which she uses daily with her partner. The situation is further precipitated when Jenny receives an order to execute a prison sentence, which forces her to report to a prison institution.
Premiered at the latest Toronto International Film Festival, The Assessment is set in a dystopian near future where humanity is the primary cause of the world’s destruction and the driving force behind the climate changes that have ravaged it. In response to this catastrophic situation, an extreme measure has been taken: the creation of a semi-dictatorial society, a fabricated paradise where every action is controlled, and individuals—deemed incapable of managing their freedom—are now confined by a dense web of constraints.
The story follows a couple (played by Himesh Patel and a surprising Elizabeth Olsen) who appear to enjoy an idyllic life in this regimented world, despite its bleak and impersonal atmosphere. Wide exterior shots reveal a barren landscape, and their futuristic villa exudes sterility, painted in the coldness of artificial colours. In this new, surreal, impersonal society, the couple wishes to have a child but must first pass an assessment: they are required to live with a woman (Alicia Vikander) who will evaluate their suitability to become parents.
The protagonists endure and overcome a series of trials that grow increasingly senseless and extreme. Set against an oppressive rhythm, the haunting soundtrack accompanies the couple through a spiral of madness, where free will is sacrificed in the name of a greater good and an ostensibly perfect society. Yet, one final choice remains: to continue living in an artificial world dominated by illusion and control, or to return to the scarred real world, but as free individuals.
Through its sci-fi lens, The Assessment tackles universal themes such as climate change and free will, while also addressing intimate and personal issues like motherhood. By drawing on genre conventions, it provokes thought and invites reflection on these pressing and timeless questions.
The American Dream is a central theme in American cinema. “Dreamers” manifest themselves in different forms: on the one hand, character groups, such as those of Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola, whose mafia gangs offer a stark depiction of the lust for wealth and success; on the other hand, lonely dreamers, individuals willing to go to any lengths to pursue great ideals. However, stories that reflect the American Dream outside United States’ borders are often overlooked, demonstrating how these universal aspirations transcend cultures and geographies. Moreover, there are narratives inspired by this theme that do not resort to exaggeration but achieve a sober and realistic balance.
And it is in the film The Black Sea that these dynamics become most prominent. The protagonist, Khalid, a young African American man with high ambitions, dissatisfied with his job at a bar in Brooklyn, decides to quit after being contacted by a Bulgarian woman on Facebook, who offers him ten thousand euros to spend time with her. However, upon his arrival in the Balkans, he discovers that the woman is deceased, thus initiating his financial exile in an unfamiliar land. Directors Derrick B. Harden and Crystal Moselle follow the journey of Khalid, played by Harden himself, as he tries to integrate into a foreign community, exploring themes of individual aspiration and loneliness, similar to those addressed by Kubrick in Barry Lyndon. The adjustment process in the small town bathed by the Black Sea, which the film’s title refers to, proves to be complex; Khalid must take any available job to survive. His situation has drastically changed: necessity now guides his choices. However, he develops a friendship with a Bulgarian woman, and together they manage to merge their ambitions; this will allow them to find a balance that will enable them to achieve their desired success without erupting into conclusions of ethical and moral decay.
What are we willing to do, and under what conditions are we willing to live, in order to stay true to our nature? This is the question that Ponyboi (2024) – the second feature film by Colombian director and screenwriter Esteban Arango, following Blast Beat (2020) – seems to ask the audience.
The memory of Benedetto Croce’s last Christmas serves, in Pupi Avati’s film, as a pretext to illustrate the biography of one of the greatest key players of Italian history. From political depth to talent in studies, from the vocation for freedom to philosophical vision, the documentary – presented out of competition at the forty-second edition of the Turin Film Festival – opens up an original glimpse into the life of the Italian philosopher and senator.
The Kyiv of 1968, depicted by Stanislav Gurenko and Andrii Alf’erov in Dissident, is not a vibrant urban symphony like the avant-garde Berlin of Walter Ruttmann, but a grey, oppressive sprawl of streets and buildings constantly hit by a violent and unrelenting rain, a ghost of the Soviet Union that looms, heavy and suffocating, over the shoulders of the Ukrainian population. In the dissonant flow of a city in motion, the dreams, anxieties, and illusions of individuals abandoned to their fate intertwine, tormented by solitude and in perpetual conflict between a peaceful struggle for independence and a burning desire for rebellion.
What is racism for you? Behind this simple question posed to elementary school’s children, centuries of discrimination and prejudices can hide, reiterated by the fear of the unknown, of what is unfamiliar or what, due to ignorance and dullness, one fears to know. However, the pure and innocent gaze of children tends to observe the world differently from adults, turning a frequently disappointing reality into the most imaginative and idyllic of fairy tales. It is precisely with the classic “once upon a time” that Julie Deply’s Les Barbares begins: a play, a ruthless farce around which twirl characters bordering on the surreal, grotesque masks of contemporary society.
A white corridor. A blinding, almost divine light. A choir of voices that seem to emanate from the beyond. Mario Balsamo introduces the Anemos hospice in Turin in his latest documentary, In ultimo—a concise yet poignant title that encapsulates the mission pursued with care and dedication by the hospice staff: guiding individuals toward understanding their illness and embracing that condition in which we all stand as equals. Every shot is overexposed and prolonged, a deliberate choice that transports the viewer into a suspended, timeless dimension entirely removed from ordinary reality.
L’amore che ho (The love I’ve got) by Paolo Licata, presented at the 42nd Torino Film Festival, celebrates Rosa Balisteri, an emblematic voice of Sicily and a symbol of social struggle and resistance. The film, based on the novel of the same name by Luca Torregrossa – the singer’s nephew – goes beyond merely recounting her musical career, but it also fully explores her personal battles and the most private and painful moments of her life.