... I am left with little choice but to employ it at least once during the course of my review of Respiro. Among other things, what defines pretension is in my opinion a lack of emotional sincerity on the author's part. Respiro seems made with an all too contrived and self-aware intent to be artistic, symbolic, spiritual, provocative, metaphorical... mythical, even. But luckily for all true artists out there, a predisposed formula to achieve artistic beauty and depth doesn't exist. Stunning natural locations (yes, these remote parts of Southern Italy look exotic even to most other Italians), pretty actors and some amusing, gutsy, spontaneous performances by a handful of attractive children won't elevate a substanceless movie beyond a pretty succession of images. Yet this insincere and vain, and ultimately hollow movie aches to be art, succeeding only to a very limited extent, perhaps in some cases by accident. I'll admit that the conceptually pompous ending does have a certain visual poetry to it. However, it's my belief that this was achieved in ways that had more to do with the beauty of the Lampedusa sea and the strong symbolic power of bathing and water (connecting it to so much that's mythical, mystical, religious, archetypical, etc) than with Crialese's talent.
Valeria Golino is gratingly histrionic and affected in her performance as Grazia. For a mentally unstable woman from a humble and provincial background, she sure has a fashionable wardrobe. Her flattering, floaty floral dresses and attractive, sun-kissed beach hair could have graced the pages of any Vogue summer edition. The fact she was a "nutcase" could in a way have been nothing but a fashionable addition to her trendy demeanour and look - that's how skin-deep her "condition" seemed to me. Golino's two-dimensional stereotype of the innocent, natural child-woman misunderstood and oppressed by her backward community was tiresome and irritating at worse, while leaving me unmoved and indifferent at best. I agree with the reviewer from London who wrote that mental illness is very badly served by cinema - during the course of the entire movie we never really get a sense of Grazia's illness and have no idea what is actually wrong with her (other than her being a tiresome stereotype of a "free spirit"). We don't know why she's given injections and is required to see a specialist in Milan. This generic way of writing mental illness is one of the main tell-tale signs of the movie's overall shallowness.
Another fairly insulting aspect of Respiro is the quaintification of its location. I struggled to figure out whether this movie was supposed to be set in the present day or the past, seeing as it aimed to make even an admittedly backward part of Italy (by comparison) seem a dozen times quainter and more conveniently primitive than it actually is. Again, this smacks of shallowness and a complete lack of sincerity on Crialese's part. Some non-Italian viewers will gleefully lap up the picturesque backwardness, the cliché of the possessive, macho Italian man as if it were common-place, so keen will they be to continue viewing my country as one culturally stranded sometime in the 1950s (the question I'd like to ask David Ferguson, the reviewer from Dallas, Texas is as follows: is YOUR country's mentality stuck in the 1950s? No? OK, then why should mine be?). Unfortunately for whoever still wishes to view Italy in such an anachronistic way, that aspect of Respiro is actually ridiculous and phoney even in the eyes of THIS Italian viewer. The subtly incestuous tension between Grazia and her eldest son was as tiresome and predictable as Fabrizio Bentivoglio's sexist-but-loving-husband routine. I especially loathed the scene in which Grazia joins her husband and male friend in some man-to-man banter over a bottle of beer, to her husband's macho embarrassment and displeasure. According to this movie, it isn't a woman's place to take part in a man's conversations. Ah, but our "loveable" "free-spirit" is too good for this place and doesn't understand the oppressive, unwritten rules of Lampedusan patriarchy! Not only does this scene depict something so fake, it should be enough on its own to discredit the entire movie's credibility. It also completely gets the wrong end of the stick of the culture it strives to depict, clearly showing that it was written without a clear understanding of the location or its population. I would challenge anyone who knows contemporary Italy to say otherwise.
For a truly accomplished contemporary Italian filmmaker, one who in my opinion deserves to be listed among the greats of Italy's glorious cinematic past (which alas, isn't the shadow of its former self!), look no further than Gianni Amelio - especially Lamerica, Così Ridevano and his latest, La Stella Che Non C'è. Unlike most contemporary Italian cinema, sadly derivative and stagnant, Amelio's is a fresh and independently creative voice. Despite my scathing review of Respiro, I am now more than willing to believe that Crialese's latest Nuovomondo, now showing in Italian cinemas, will be a worthwhile one. I therefore look forwards to enjoying it, though it won't be overly shocking to me if I don't (considering my feelings for Respiro!).
Valeria Golino is gratingly histrionic and affected in her performance as Grazia. For a mentally unstable woman from a humble and provincial background, she sure has a fashionable wardrobe. Her flattering, floaty floral dresses and attractive, sun-kissed beach hair could have graced the pages of any Vogue summer edition. The fact she was a "nutcase" could in a way have been nothing but a fashionable addition to her trendy demeanour and look - that's how skin-deep her "condition" seemed to me. Golino's two-dimensional stereotype of the innocent, natural child-woman misunderstood and oppressed by her backward community was tiresome and irritating at worse, while leaving me unmoved and indifferent at best. I agree with the reviewer from London who wrote that mental illness is very badly served by cinema - during the course of the entire movie we never really get a sense of Grazia's illness and have no idea what is actually wrong with her (other than her being a tiresome stereotype of a "free spirit"). We don't know why she's given injections and is required to see a specialist in Milan. This generic way of writing mental illness is one of the main tell-tale signs of the movie's overall shallowness.
Another fairly insulting aspect of Respiro is the quaintification of its location. I struggled to figure out whether this movie was supposed to be set in the present day or the past, seeing as it aimed to make even an admittedly backward part of Italy (by comparison) seem a dozen times quainter and more conveniently primitive than it actually is. Again, this smacks of shallowness and a complete lack of sincerity on Crialese's part. Some non-Italian viewers will gleefully lap up the picturesque backwardness, the cliché of the possessive, macho Italian man as if it were common-place, so keen will they be to continue viewing my country as one culturally stranded sometime in the 1950s (the question I'd like to ask David Ferguson, the reviewer from Dallas, Texas is as follows: is YOUR country's mentality stuck in the 1950s? No? OK, then why should mine be?). Unfortunately for whoever still wishes to view Italy in such an anachronistic way, that aspect of Respiro is actually ridiculous and phoney even in the eyes of THIS Italian viewer. The subtly incestuous tension between Grazia and her eldest son was as tiresome and predictable as Fabrizio Bentivoglio's sexist-but-loving-husband routine. I especially loathed the scene in which Grazia joins her husband and male friend in some man-to-man banter over a bottle of beer, to her husband's macho embarrassment and displeasure. According to this movie, it isn't a woman's place to take part in a man's conversations. Ah, but our "loveable" "free-spirit" is too good for this place and doesn't understand the oppressive, unwritten rules of Lampedusan patriarchy! Not only does this scene depict something so fake, it should be enough on its own to discredit the entire movie's credibility. It also completely gets the wrong end of the stick of the culture it strives to depict, clearly showing that it was written without a clear understanding of the location or its population. I would challenge anyone who knows contemporary Italy to say otherwise.
For a truly accomplished contemporary Italian filmmaker, one who in my opinion deserves to be listed among the greats of Italy's glorious cinematic past (which alas, isn't the shadow of its former self!), look no further than Gianni Amelio - especially Lamerica, Così Ridevano and his latest, La Stella Che Non C'è. Unlike most contemporary Italian cinema, sadly derivative and stagnant, Amelio's is a fresh and independently creative voice. Despite my scathing review of Respiro, I am now more than willing to believe that Crialese's latest Nuovomondo, now showing in Italian cinemas, will be a worthwhile one. I therefore look forwards to enjoying it, though it won't be overly shocking to me if I don't (considering my feelings for Respiro!).