In 2022, Italian writer Paolo Cognetti attracted international attention when The Eight Mountains, based on his award-winning and loosely autobiographical novel of the same name, debuted to great acclaim in Cannes. Two years later, Cognetti himself steps behind (and in front of) the camera as director and protag of the documentary A Flower of Mine (Fiore mio), which was chosen as the pre-opening event of the Locarno Film Festival in the prestigious open air venue of Piazza Grande, before it heads for limited release in Italian cinemas later in the year. Beyond national borders, it’s likely to attract the eye mostly those already familiar with the author’s work.
In fact, the film plays very much like something aimed at those squarely initiated into the Cognetti universe, for want of a better term. If you remember The Eight Mountains, the locations are very similar, as the famed writer embarks on hikes in the Aosta Valley region he has frequently described in his books. Gone, however, is the angle of the city boy reconnecting with nature while staying in his family’s cabin. This is a more seasoned protagonist, far removed from the urban life of his native Milan for the duration of the documentary.
Whether alone or with friends, particularly his canine companion Lachi (the phonetic Italian spelling of Lucky), Cognetti goes for long walks in the grass and snow, taking it in as he enjoys views that may well no longer be around in a few years’ time. The same goes for local culture, as he films his encounters with various people in an attempt to preserve their experiences, especially the regional patois that is discussed early on in the film. (Cognetti’s favorite mountain, Monte Rosa, has no connection to the color pink, and is actually named after the dialectal term rouja, meaning “ice”).
Some might assume the author is cashing in on the success of The Eight Mountains, and to some degree he definitely is, enlisting the same cinematographer, the Belgian Ruben Impens, to give the mountainous vistas the same majestic quality as the earlier film. It played particularly well on the humongous Piazza Grande screen, itself in an area surrounded by similarly gorgeous, elevated landscapes.
And yet, this is no mere vanity project. Though he is best known for his prose (he won a Premio Strega, Italy’s most important literary prize), Cognetti actually studied filmmaking and has directed numerous documentaries about nature and ecological concerns. A Flower of Mine is therefore of a piece with his overall artistic and humanistic path, channeling his bond with nature’s miracles through the medium of cinema. And while there may not be any really bold stylistic flourishes, he’s very confident with the camera, teaming up with Impens to convey the full scale of a world undergoing potentially irreversible transformations. Like Kevin Costner’s vanishing frontier in Dances With Wolves, the filmmaker wants to visualize certain places, most notably the glaciers, before they’re gone.
The filmmaking may not always be as powerful as his written words, but Cognetti’s sincere love of the subject matter is unquestionable. His endeavor to create some semblance of a historical record of an area so dear to him, and so close to becoming unrecognizable in the not-so-distant future, is absolutely commendable. And in the moments when that nobility of intent matches directorial intuition, the film reaches as high as the most sublime mountain top.
Director, screenwriter: Paolo Cognetti
Producers: Leonardo Barrile, Francesco Favale, Franco di Sarro
Cinematography: Ruben Impens
Music: Vasco Brondi
Sound: Paolo Piccardo
Production companies: Samarcanda Film, Nexo Digital, Harald House, EDI Effetti Digitali Italiani
Venue: Locarno Film Festival (Piazza Grande, pre-opening film)
In Italian
80 minutes
