The leader of Roman Catholicism might at first glance seem off-topic for Gianfranco Rosi, the Italian documentary filmmaker best known for his subtle and deep-reaching examinations of the effects of migration in Fire at Sea and how the Middle East conflicts affect ordinary people in Notturno. The originality of Rosi’s eccentric Sacro GRA, which won the Golden Lion in Venice in 2013, and the poignancy of Fire at Sea (Golden Bear in Berlin 2016) are not the up-front qualities of In Viaggio, his new documentary on the philosophy and travels of Pope Francis. Yet looking a little deeper, it is linked to the earlier films by multiple threads. The film’s simple structure in which one papal trip flows into another proves an effective way of collecting and comparing the pontiff’s social and political messaging as he talks to the faithful masses and to the world’s political leaders through the microphones.
So although it is most likely to circulate among Catholic audiences as a respectful travelogue, In Viaggio (literally, “On a Journey”) ties in closely with the social content of Rosi’s work in its global overview of poverty, misery and the shattering afterimages left by war and human cruelty. The ancient adage “all the world is one family” sums up Francis’s liberal, pan-religion ideas perfectly. War is always an injustice and the story of Cain’s indifference to his brother’s suffering is to be found, as Francis notes, at the beginning of the Bible.
Composed mostly of footage from the Vatican archives with additional shots taken from Rosi’s own Fire at Sea and Notturno, this is very much an editor’s film, and Fabrizio Federico does a splendid job patching papal trips together with the relentless rhythm of a marathon runner. It is physically tiring just to watch the pope jetting around in decidedly homely, chartered Italian planes, and amusing to see him standing precariously at the top of the aisle in front of a planeload of reporters and cameramen as he answers their questions with saintly patience.
On another level, this is one of the first compendiums of Pope Francis’s worldwide missions that seem aimed at embracing the whole world with his compassion towards the poor, the homeless and the disenfranchised, not just Catholics but people of all religions. Without laboring the point, Rosi is careful to bring out the positive nature of this ecumenism, which is not usually the conservative Catholic’s cup of tea. Deeper probing into the influence of liberation theology on the Argentinean Pontiff’s thinking would have given the film more oomph, which Rosi instead leaves at some tantalizingly hints.
The thrust of the film is very practical, however. It begins shortly after Francis’s election in 2013 with his trip to the Italian island of Lampedusa, sadly famous for the almost daily arrival of boatloads of migrants who have perilously crossed the Mediterranean sea. He speaks outdoors to a modest crowd about caring for strangers amid indifference. Soon we find him in Brazil, Cuba, and Mexico. In the U.S. he extols Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton. At the U.N. he demands to know why arm sales are allowed.
Back home (it seems to be the Vatican), a swarm of bishops listens to Pope Francis’s admonitions against sexual abuse in the Church. This scene is turned on its head when he later flies to Chile and strongly insists there is no proof that a certain prelate practiced sexual abuse. His words incite angry street protests and still later he reads an apology for demanding proof from the victims – though he doesn’t seem all that convinced, either. It is the closest the film gets to criticizing its subject.
Besides Latin America, the Middle East is another major destination for papal visits. In Israel he prays at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem and warns priests never to proselytize with the Orthodox of other religions. He uses the taboo word “genocide” on a trip to Armenia and incurs the wrath of the Turkish president Erdogan.There is an ambiguous shot, very formally posed, of pope and president sitting yards apart in a ceremonial audience room looking angry and uncomfortable. The odd couple rhymes with an equally intriguing visit to Iraq. After the papal delegation its way through a town destroyed by war, they reach a humble dwelling where Francis encounters a white-bearded figure who neither speaks nor smiles. He is identified as the Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, the 90-year-old leader of Iraq’s Shia Muslims.
Wherever he goes, the pontiff projects a fearless front. After the nearly fatal attack on Pope John Paul II, it is alarming to see Pope Francis hanging onto a railing in the back of an open car as he stands and greets the crowds lining the roads. His current infirmity that makes it difficult to walk does not seem to have slowed him down much. One of the film’s final images is not a trip at all, but the haunting images of the pontiff walking preciously across a deserted St. Peter’s Square in the pouring rain, alone in resonant solitude as he prays that the world may find an end to the COVID pandemic that was then at its height.
Director, screenwriter, sound: Gianfranco Rosi
Producers: Donatella Palermo, Gianfranco Rosi, Paolo Del Brocco
Cinematography: Cesare Cuppone, Walter Capriotti (from Vatican Archives), Gianfranco Rosi
Editing: Fabrizio Federico
Production companies: 21Uno Film, Stemal Entertainment in association with RAI Cinema
Venue: Venice Film Festival (Out of competition)
In Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, English, French
82 minutes
