In 1980, Marco Tullio Giordana won over the Locarno jury and received the Golden Leopard for his feature directorial debut, To Love the Damned. It also happens to be the year of the opening stretch of his new film, The Life Apart, which premiered in Locarno’s Fuori Concorso (Out of Competition) strand shortly before its debut in Italian cinemas. While it should do well among arthouse viewers domestically, its international prospects are perhaps more dependent on the name of co-writer Marco Bellocchio, who originally developed the project for himself to direct.
Based on the novel of the same name by Maria Pia Veladiano, the movie revolves around a wealthy family in city of Vicenza, in the Veneto region of Italy. Maria (Valentina Bellè) is about to give birth, but her elation is short-lived when she discovers her daughter, Rebecca, was born with a large red mark on her face. While her husband (Paolo Pierobon) and sister-in-law (Sonia Bergamasco) treat the baby with varying degrees of affection, Maria actively shuns her, leading to the living situation described by the English title (the original La vita accanto is more suggestive, as it translates as “the life next door”).
As she grows up, Rebecca learns to find solace in music, and it is here that Giordana unveils his most inspired creative choice, with the casting of Beatrice Barison as the adult version of the character (the 10-year old Rebecca is played by noted child actress Sara Ciocca). A pianist by training and trade, Barison was chosen, despite her lack of acting experience, because the filmmaker wanted the diegetic music to be performed live on set without having to resort to the usual editing tricks to make the actors look like seasoned masters of notes.
That strategy, paired with Barison’s passion and rawness, lends the film its most potent dramatic tension, particularly as the original score, composed by Dario Marianelli, is generally subdued in order to highlight Rebecca’s blossoming as a great talent, despite the lingering feeling of inadequacy tied to her relationship with her mother (a topic that inspired Giordana to dedicate the movie to the late Chantal Akerman, whose filmmaking had a profound impact on him as a young cinephile).
While one might ponder what Bellocchio would have done with the material (the premise is perfectly suited for his vibrantly enraged deconstructions of family dynamics), Giordana, who does not have quite the same anger, still acquits himself well, particularly in the back half of the picture when the psychological turmoil paves the way for dream sequences: cinematographer Roberto Forza (the director’s regular collaborator since 2000’s One Hundred Steps) masterfully captures the delicate balance between upsetting reality and even more harrowing nightmare, subtly augmenting the claustrophobia of a narrative that is largely set within four walls, almost in a world of its own (most tellingly, the fact this is technically a period piece has no significant impact on the plot or character development, unlike in other Giordana projects).
Ultimately, what comes to the fore is a strong sense of humanity, conveyed through the dual performance of Ciocca and Barison and the use of piano playing as a marker of growth and empathy. As Rebecca finds herself through the arts, the film quietly gains emotional momentum, with a sense of character that is perhaps the best blend of Bellocchio and Giordana’s sensibilities.
Director: Marco Tullio Giordana
Screenwriters: Marco Bellocchio, Gloria Malatesta, Marco Tullio Giordana
Cast: Sonia Bergamasco, Paolo Pierobon, Valentina Bellè, Beatrice Barison, Sara Ciocca, Michela Cescon
Producers: Simone Gattoni, Marco Bellocchio, Beppe Caschetto, Bruno Benetti, Paolo Del Brocco
Cinematography: Roberto Forza
Production design: Andrea Di Palma
Costume design: Gemma Mascagni
Music: Dario Marianelli
Sound: Fulgenzio Ceccon
Production companies: Kavac Film, IBC Movie, One Art Films, Rai Cinema
World sales: Intra Movies
Venue: Locarno Film Festival (Fuori Concorso)
In Italian
114 minutes
