Set in a remote village of the Italian Alps during the last uncertain days of World War II, Vermiglio peeks into the secrets and conflicts of a family modestly getting by in an unforgiving environment. Italy’s contender for Best International Feature at this year’s Academy Awards, the film is a beautifully shot, quiet observation of rural life under the shadow of war.
Though the Graziadei family at the centre of the film is sprawling – with two parents and an eye-watering eight children, ranging from a one-year old baby up to young adult – writer-director Maura Delpero takes her time to introduce each character, allowing the audience to become familiar with their distinct personalities and quirks at an unhurried pace. Each family member seems to have something they’re hiding, be it sweetly innocent, or tragically life-altering. In another director’s hands, the revelations of these secrets could easily have played out like a melodramatic soap opera, but Delpero unfolds the various stories with a subtle, pragmatic tone, punctuated with moments of humour – a teenager’s increasingly gross, yet entirely self-inflicted punishments for the shame she feels exploring her blossoming sexuality is both comical and depressing. Mountain life is depicted with a similar, somewhat cold practicality, with milestone events such as birth, marriage, and graduation passing by without much fanfare, as inevitable and regular as the seasons. When a young girl seeks help from her father for her own particular crisis, she is given minimal aid and comfort, and is instructed to simply get on with it.
Our screening opened with a pre-recorded introduction from Delpero, expressing pleasure that her film has the opportunity to be witnessed on the big screen, as she had always intended it to be an immersive experience. The cinematography is certainly stunning, with plenty of lingering shots of the snow-coated mountainscapes, and if the film had accidentally been screened minus its audio track, it would have remained a joy to watch. The open vistas are a stark contrast to the cramped conditions of the family home, where the children sleep three to a bed, and the entire family huddle around a tiny dining table to share their meals. But it is within these interior scenes where Delpero’s immersion truly takes hold. She invites the viewer in with close-ups of whispered, intimate conversations, and silent, meaningful looks across bare rooms. We are right there with them, tucked up in their beds, sat at their tables, privy to their secrets.
Vermiglio could be read as a warning against concealment. Many of the characters’ lives could be improved if only they were more open and communicative with each other. But in many ways, this is a film about moving onto the next stage of life – a frightened girl entering puberty; an angsty teenage boy navigating the responsibilities of adulthood; a young woman experiencing the complexities and heartbreak of first love; a late-middle-aged father learning how to be a parent to adults, instead of the infants he is more comfortable with. We catch every character at these turning points of their lives, but are left wondering how they will cope with what comes next.
The deliberate pace and quietness of the film will not be for everyone, but for those happy to be immersed in the private lives of a rural family, Vermiglio is a real treat.
Vermiglio is screening at Plymouth Arts Cinema from Saturday 8th – Wednesday 12th February.
Reviewed by Matthew Onuki Luke
