12/12 ForReel Score | 5/5 Stars

In her director’s notes for Vermiglio at the Venice Film Festival, Maura Delpero described her film as a ‘family lexicon…homage to a collective memory’ through the eyes of the family at its centre, inhabiting the titular village where her father grew up. Delpero uses her father’s experiences as a foundation for this tale of local teacher Cesare (Tommaso Ragno) and his family, taking on the form of an ensemble piece set in 1944 during the waning period of WWII. We follow as the family’s lives undergo an irrevocable upheaval by the arrival of a Silician soldier deserter, Pietro (Giuseppe De Domineco), who attracts the eye of the eldest daughter Lucia (Martina Scrinzi). Through four seasons in the lives of the family and the village’s local inhabitants, Delpero grants to us a vividly realised sense of place and time, with the ever-present mood of war on the horizon.

Luca Mattei’s patient editing puts us through our paces in a gradual way as we are introduced to these characters. Observe Cesare teaching his students, the daughters going about their menial daily tasks, and the villagers discussing the events of the war gives us a vivid sense of the day-to-day life of the village. We learn about each member of the family, from how the son Dino struggles to live up to Cesare’s expectations to how the mother Adele quietly carries the many burdens of a housewife and mother. Delpero eases us into familiarising ourselves with these family dynamics, settling us into them before introducing the character of Pietro, who arrives at the house as a companion of one of their cousins. Quiet, enigmatic and charming, he quickly endears himself to the family, who invite him to Christmas dinner and grow closer to him, protecting him in his vulnerable state as a deserter. The film shifts into revolving around the blossoming romance between Pietro and Lucia at its centre, and Scrinzi is remarkable in bringing this quiet sense of growing attraction and transformation within her work; like most of the cast of first-time actors, there’s a focus of naturalism and authenticity in her work that makes their presence all the more captivating.

For a while, the romance becomes the central focus, but other aspects of the film are equally - if not even more - engaging. In particular, the character of Ada (Rachele Potrich) stands out: the middle daughter whose conflict between her religious devotion and burgeoning sexual desires, and a tentative, curious friendship with the spirited Virginia (Carlotta Gamba) result in some of the most moving moments of the film. Delpero handles the interactions between Lucia, Ada and the other sister Flavia (Anna Thaler) with a particularly deft hand, and I could watch an entire film of just their bedtime conversations. The affection built for these characters is strong, and essential for the heavy emotional toll that they go through as the seasons pass and circumstances change, some for the worse. One of the key themes of the film is the resilience of women in an unforgiving, patriarchal society, of which even the well-intentioned and progressive Cesare is sometimes guilty of enabling. As such, the key trajectories of the film are through its female characters, most notably Lucia and Ada, finding the strength within themselves to free themselves from societal expectations and constraints and to find autonomy and peace of mind.

Key to the film’s appeal is its gorgeous aesthetic, from the memorable production design by Pirra and lived-in period costuming by Andrea Cavalletto create a layered, deeply authentic environment where we are so immersed in this highly specific mountain village, and fall into its remote and peaceful rhythms so much. And there’s the beauty of the snowscapes blossoming into the awe-inspiring greens of the springtime, through Mikhail Krichman’s cinematography, where the film captures the grandeur of natural beauty without ever losing its fixation on intimacy. Krichman’s work is particularly extraordinary in the final act of the film where it takes its most heightened emotional turns, creating such a strong emotional response by how it lingers in on Lucia in her most emotionally exposed states against the stunning backdrops. It works in perfect tandem with Delpero who is never afraid to show our beloved characters at their most weak and vulnerable. ‘At least she’s crying now,’ one of the characters remarks at one point towards the end, where the release of emotion is seen as a cathartic moment. There is much sadness in Vermiglio but also hope for the future in its women, and a fond remembrance of the collective memory cherished, and brought to beautiful cinematic life by Maura Delpero.

Movie Review: Pure Beauty and Raw Emotion Renders "Vermiglio" Unforgettable