Showing posts with label nanni moretti. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nanni moretti. Show all posts

Saturday, 10 September 2011

People singing in Nanni Moretti films

As a commenter on this vid said, "I love people who sing out of key. It's expressionist."


Palombella Rossa (1989)
Silvio Orlando and some swimmers singing Bruce Springsteen's I'm On Fire.



Palombella Rossa (1989)
Nanni Moretti and the crowd singing Franco Battiato's E ti vengo a cercare.



La messa è finita (1985)
Nanni Moretti singing Bruno Lauzi's Ritornerai.



La stanza del figlio (The Son's Room, 2001)
Nanni Moretti, Giuseppe Sanfelice, Laura Morante and Jasmine Trinca singing Caterina Caselli's Insieme a te non ci sto più.



Caro Diario (1993)
Nanni Moretti dancing to Silvana Mangano's Anna.


Has anyone seen Habemus Papam yet? And, if so, is there any singing? The PPCC hopes so.

Wednesday, 29 December 2010

La messa è finita (1985)



La messa è finita (Mass is finished) is an early Nanni Moretti film that exhibits many of Moretti's trademark moves: domestic bliss and domestic hell (both filmed enticingly), a counsellor distracted by his own anxieties, long shots of Moretti from behind as he wanders through his comfortable apartment and an easy-going, bourgeois sensibility.

Moretti's thinly veiled alter-ego is, in this case, Giulio, a young priest. We follow Giulio as he moves to a new parish, closer to his parents in Rome, and mingles with the community. People come to him with all sorts of problems - generally, heartbreak - and, as things strike closer and closer to home, it begins to weigh on Giulio. He lashes out, an angry young man, and (as usual, in Moretti films) gets no closer to the elusive truth. We suffer - all his movies seem to say - but it can still be beautiful. "My life is beautiful," Giulio declares, even as he cries about all his problems.

La messa è finita is guided by thin threads of plot, but it's not as completely impressionistic as Moretti's later (and stronger) film, Caro Diario. Nonetheless, it's filled with the same abrupt cuts and vignette-style scenes as his other later (and much stronger, if not best) film, The Son's Room. Its meandering, circling style may bore or alienate some viewers, but we love it - in fact, it fills us with a deep, soothing contentment, similar to a Morandi painting; the beautiful in the mundane.

The film's conclusion doesn't leave as much of an impact - Moretti achieves that feeling of fraying, tender relationships with much greater clarity in The Son's Room - but it's always nice to spend a couple hours walking behind him. Recommended.

Sunday, 26 September 2010

Caos Calmo (2008)


Caos Calmo (Quiet Chaos), the weirdly derivative film starring Nanni Moretti as yet another grieving parent, is bad, people. Just bad.

It's also weird. Weird because it is so derivative - essentially a lesser, paler, crappier copy of the far, far superior The Son's Room, a film directed and starring Nanni Moretti, and the film for which he won the Palme D'Or back in 2001. In Caos Calmo, Moretti returns, seven years later, with much the same parlor tricks: a sudden death of a loved one leading to warmly nihilistic despair, meandering through the comfortable Italian bourgeoise, Silvio Orlando wringing his hands in anxiety, some unexpected pop tunes, and some sex (not with Silvio Orlando).

All these things came together to form a cohesive, bright, beautiful thing in The Son's Room, a film which left us in a sheen of brilliance for years and years. Yes, it was that good. It makes you love humanity, for the love of… humanity. And it makes grief something dignified and heroic, something tragic and pure. It made us cry so, so much.

Caos Calmo, instead, nearly bored us to tears. After Pietro's (Nanni Moretti) wife dies unexpectedly, Pietro - a top man in some sort of fancy film distribution company - spends his days sitting on the bench outside of his young daughter's school. There, he makes flimsy connections with the local characters. Let the healing begin?

Nanni Moretti's father figure here seemed selfish, vapid and whiny - quite a feat considering how naturally charismatic Moretti normally is for us. But his ordeal is nebulous and ill-defined: a loved one has died, but he doesn't feel bad? He didn't love her and he feels guilty? She was crazy? No wait, his sister-in-law was crazy? …What?

It's all a big, unfocused mess, without a single redeeming feature. Like The Son's Room, it clocks in at under 90 minutes, but - unlike The Son's Room - these 90 minutes feel like a plod. If you're looking for charming, humanistic, recent-ish Italian films, steer clear of this one, skippers, and point your vessels to other, better fare such as The Son's Room (DID YOU GET THAT? THE SON'S ROOM, RIGHT HERE), Caro Diario or The Best of Youth.

Thursday, 26 March 2009

Caro Diario (1993)



Some things are deeply personal, and that makes them hard to dislike. The first "episode" in Nanni Moretti's charming, rambling, autobiographical Caro Diario (Dear Diary) disarmed us completely since it could have been written by the PPCC ourselves - word for word, thought for thought. We too have spent many hours riding our motorino around the Monteverde and Garbatella neighborhoods in Rome, gazing enchanted at the neighborhoods we passed. There's something magical about other people's homes, or maybe we're just a little voyeuristic. But, like Nanni Moretti says, we just love to look at homes. Particularly, in those neighborhoods. Particularly, when flying by on a scooter. When we started recognizing in the film that one road which leads up the Janiculum, or that one piazza in Garbatella, and when Moretti started vocalizing the exact same thoughts we used to have ("I wonder what it's like to live there. I could just watch apartment blocks pass forever.") we were bought and sold. Nanni - man - you're speakin' to us! You're speakin' our language!

But worry not - this whimsical, enjoyable little film is a treat for everyone. Moretti's stream of consciousness voice-over is quirky and refreshing in a universal way. If you've never been to Italy, never watched a Nanni Moretti film before, and don't care for apartment-gazing or mopeds, that's fine. Although our recognition felt nice, it wasn't necessary - the movie was nice enough by itself.


On the way to one of the crazy Odyssean islands.


With the easygoing charisma and low-key narcissism that is Moretti's trademark film persona, this film takes us through three seemingly unrelated episodes. In the first, In Vespa, we follow him as he rides his Vespa around Rome's deserted streets during Ferragosto (the August holidays, when Italians flee the cities). He muses on neighborhoods, pretentious films and his secret desire to dance ("It was the movie Flashdance that changed my life."). In the second episode, Isole ("Islands"), he travels with his TV-phobic/TV-philic friend Gerardo (Renato Carpentieri) around the Italian islands - each characterized by an almost mythical weirdness (one island's inhabitants are ruled by their children). And in the final episode, Medici ("Doctors"), Moretti deals with a mysterious dermatological illness which plagues him and confounds doctors.

The film is airy and unconcerned, yet it feels meaningful and suggestive. For something of an ego project (something Moretti's critics never tire of pointing out is how indulgent his films can be), it's also quite astute. You're never bored - quite the opposite, Moretti is a relaxing, fun companion. In fact, as overconfident and in love with himself as he is, he's not above teasing himself or pointing out his flaws either. One of our favorite moments is when he watches an overly intellectual Italian film in which one of the characters laments the fact that, in youth, "we all yelled terrible, violent things, and now we've aged complacently and turned ugly." A fed-up Moretti responds later, "You yelled terrible, violent things and you have becom ugly. I yelled the right things, and now... I'm a dashing 40-year-old!" And just when you think Moretti has gone a little deluded with self-love, in a later scene, he spots Jennifer Beals - the star of Flashdance - and has no qualms letting himself turn into a laughably starstruck fan (Beals thinks he's a foot-fetishist and treats him like an asylum escapee).


Moretti favors his usual filmmaking style: lots of shots from behind, and some playfulness with perspective, such as this scene when he ambles along with an incoming yacht.


(Side note, but we bumped into Nanni Moretti once in a takeaway pizzeria place in Monteverde years ago. Our behavior? Laughably starstruck! All we did was stare and smile, as the only things which came to mind to say were, "You're Nanni Moretti!", "You're tall!" and "You're a Communist!" None of which are, ahem, really good conversation.)


A mix of fact and fiction: the scenes which deal with Moretti's experience with cancer as autobiographical, and here he even uses real footage of his final chemotherapy session.


Wikipedia calls Moretti the "Italian Woody Allen", and there's some truth to that. Both actor-directors make "happy intelligentsia" films which are full of frothy intellectual musings and cunning analytical tricks. In one scene in Caro Diario, Moretti - overcome by his apartment-love - buzzes himself into an apartment by pretending to scout for locations for his next movie. "What's the movie about?" one of the residents ask. "It's uh... about a Trotskyist sweet-seller in the 1950s," Moretti fumbles. Then he smiles: "It's a musical." Much later in the film, Moretti walks into a sweetshop/bar and sees a 1950s musical on the television. Smiling helplessly, he begins to dance along. It's a smart little bookend to the earlier scene, and something we almost didn't notice until we thought, "Hey, it's the Trotskyist sweets musical!"


The musical!


There are lots of other notes of low-key intellectual playfulness, such as the constant allusions to Ulysses (both Homer's and James Joyce's) during the Isole episode, and all the islands' surreal jokes (such as "the constant menace of the volcano" on Stromboli making everyone, including Moretti and his friend Gerardo, angry and inhospitable).

There's no narrative or message - the film is just a rambling trip into a variety of places and ideas, with a strong sense of silliness and surreal satire. We highly recommend this and Moretti's Palm d'Or-winning hit, The Son's Room. Be warned of the differences in tone between the two movies, though - this being whimsical, easy and lightly politicized, while The Son's Room is devastating and completely apolitical - but both are excellent films.