Adapted from Cesare Pavese’s 1949 novel, ‘The Beautiful Summer’ written and directed by Laura Luchetti offers an evocative portrayal of self-discovery, longing, and sensual awakening. Set in 1938 preceding World War II in Turin, Italy. This coming-of-age story follows Ginia (Yile Yara Vianello), a young seamstress living with her brother Severino (Nicolas Maupas) in a modest apartment.
Ginia and Severino are relaxing at the lakeside with friends when Amelia (Deva Cassel) recognising one of them, swims over to join the group. Ginia is instantly allured by Amelia’s beauty and confidence, and both are curious of the other. Amelia is a nude model for painters. Severino is openly disdainful of Amelia’s choice of occupation, whereas Ginia finds herself intrigued by it.
Early in the film Amelia offers Ginia to watch her be painted, Ginia shyly declines and instead peers through the glass outside. Amelia introduces Ginia to a bohemian world that ignites her imagination. Ginia has her first romantic experience with the painter Guido (Alessandro Piavani) and finds herself curious to model also. The line “I want someone to look at me and show me who I am” reflects Ginia’s journey of self-exploration; as well as a kind of consenting voyeurism and exhibitionism, as a form of communication. Seeing and being seen. Underlying a foundational question- “Who’s vision do we wish to be cast by?”
The film is an emotive tapestry exploring jealousy, control, love, loss, desire, and practicality, with complexity. Yile Yara Vianello offers authenticity to the twists and turns of her characters journey, where polarity emerges at a middle pathway that is both authentic and refreshing.
Diego Romero’s cinematography is exquisite in its rendering of Turin’s architecture, landscape, and the casts interplay among them. The subtle shake of the camera in certain shots, and the focus on physical actions contribute to the film’s intimacy and tactile quality. The transition from summer to autumn is conveyed in its fleeting glory, echoing the themes of love and loss.
Autumnal hues are accented by colourist Andrea Baracca, and harmonious choices amongst the art, costume, and make-up departments offer stylistic cohesion that enriches the story. The chemistry between Yile Yara Vianello and Deva Cassel is tantalising. There is a tenderness between their characters, and it’s as if they are both holding a delicate secret together. The pensive piano scores composed by Francesco Cerasi mirror Ginia’s inner landscape, as she navigates her feelings, and choices.
If you like your storylines packaged and labelled neatly, I do not recommend this film. However, if you are like me and enjoy a storyline that feels more like a dance than a march, you will be captivated by the world Luchetti has created.
Trust emerges as a standout film for this year’s St ALi’s Italian Film Festival, running nationwide at Palace Cinemas from September 18 to October 23. It invites viewers into an intricate psychological drama where love and fear dance together in a narrative that is as gripping as it is thought-provoking. Directed by the award-winning Daniele Luchetti and based on Domenico Starnone’s novel Confidenza, the film delivers an exploration of human emotion that lingers long after the credits roll.
The central figure in Trust is Pietro (Elio Germano), a well-respected teacher beloved by his students and admired by his peers. His reputation, built on his progressive pedagogical philosophy that affection trumps fear to inspire students, casts him as a pillar of his community. This idea of the “pedagogy of affection” becomes a thematic thread throughout the film, highlighting Pietro’s compassionate and encouraging nature. He’s the antithesis of the authoritarian teacher, choosing love over the fear of failure to guide his students toward their best selves. This progressive approach resonates with audiences, especially considering its relevance in the 1980s and ’90s when the film was set.
But a darker truth lies beneath Pietro’s moral righteousness and public adoration. His life takes an unexpected turn when he rekindles a relationship with a former student, Teresa (Federica Rosellini), one of the brightest minds he ever taught. After they meet again, Teresa confronts Pietro with a profound and unsettling declaration—she has always known about his affection for her, an affection he can no longer deny. Though the two begin a relationship, their dynamic becomes fraught with complexity and tension.
What starts as a seemingly genuine romance soon unravels into an obsessive and destructive bond. Teresa becomes aware of Pietro’s most closely guarded secret, a revelation that binds them together in a way that is almost stronger than love—through fear. The power of this secret is so immense that it threatens to undo the very foundation of their relationship, raising a central question that permeates the entire film: Is love more powerful than fear, or do these two emotions inevitably co-exist in a relationship built on vulnerability?
Luchetti masterfully plays with these concepts of love, fear, and honesty throughout the film. His direction ensures that the audience is never too comfortable, always wondering whether the bond between Pietro and Teresa is driven by genuine affection or by the terror of having their deepest fears exposed. The result is an exploration of how once-shared secrets can become weapons, altering the course of a relationship forever.
While Trust succeeds in exploring these weighty themes, there are moments when the film falters. Certain scenes feel unnecessarily drawn out, adding little to the overall narrative and making the film feel longer than its runtime suggests. As a thriller, Trust sometimes lacks the tension necessary to keep audiences on the edge of their seats, leaving a few key moments feeling flat. These pacing issues could have been addressed with tighter editing, which might have sharpened the film’s focus.
Despite these minor flaws, the performances are nothing short of extraordinary. Elio Germano delivers a nuanced portrayal of Pietro, a man whose inner turmoil is constantly simmering beneath his calm exterior. His ability to convey vulnerability and authority makes his character a fascinating study in contradiction. Federica Rosellini is equally impressive as Teresa, her performance embodying a mixture of longing, manipulation, and pain. Together, they create a volatile and captivating dynamic that anchors the film.
The supporting cast, including Vittoria Puccini as Nadia and Pilar Fogliati as Emma, adds further layers of complexity to the story. Isabella Ferrari’s portrayal of Tilde provides a sense of groundedness amidst the chaos of Pietro and Teresa’s relationship. Each performance enriches the film, allowing the audience to explore different facets of Trust, fear, and human interaction.
Ivan Casalgrandi’s cinematography elevates the emotional tone of the film. His use of shadows, light, and shots peering through windows door creates an atmosphere of quiet tension, echoing the characters’ internal battles. The set and costume designs also reflect the 1980s and ’90s setting, giving the film an authentic feel without distracting from the central narrative.
One of the standout aspects of Trust is Thom Yorke’s haunting score. Known for his ability to craft music that evokes deep emotion, Yorke’s contribution here is no different. His atmospheric soundscapes underscore the tension and emotional weight of the film, drawing the audience deeper into the story without overwhelming the performances. The themes of Trust are universal and timeless, making the film deeply relatable for audiences of all backgrounds. At its core, the film asks whether honesty, when laid bare, can strengthen or destroy a relationship. Can love survive when fear takes hold, or does fear inevitably erode Trust? These are the questions Luchetti leaves audiences grappling with, and their unresolvable nature is what makes Trust such an impactful film.
As the premiere film of the St ALi’s Italian Film Festival, Trust sets the tone for a fantastic lineup of Italian cinema. It challenges viewers to think deeply about the nature of human relationships, leaving them with more questions than answers, which is often the hallmark of a truly great film. Despite a few pacing issues, Trust succeeds as an emotionally resonant and visually arresting exploration of love, fear, and the secrets we hide from each other—and ourselves.
Film Review: Trust (2024) Directed by Daniele Luchetti Starring: Elio Germano, Federica Rosellini, Vittoria Puccini, Pilar Fogliati, and Isabella Ferrari Based on the novel Confidenza by Domenico Starnone Original music by Thom Yorke
This review also appears on It’s On The House. Check out more reviews at Whats The Show to see what else is on in your town.
The Book of Solutions is a quirky, sometimes funny, sometimes confusing comedy-drama from writer-director Michel Gondry, who is best known outside of France for directing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
The story centres on Marc, a paranoid filmmaker with a narcissistic personality and an incredibly creative but highly distractible mind, which borders on the pathological. To prevent the studio from shutting his film down, he and his crew steal the footage and retreat to Marc’s aunt’s house in the country to finish it.
Marc spends most of his time there, avoiding watching his film whilst restlessly pursuing whatever idea takes hold of his mind at the moment. These pursuits range from being elected mayor of the rural town to filming an ant for three days to creating a soundtrack for his film by gracelessly conducting the orchestra himself with a series of bizarre body and hand gestures. The orchestra scene was a particular favourite, and I enjoyed the idea that someone clueless could make something special happen through their unwavering belief in themselves.
Marc’s pompous narration throughout is also very funny, with a favourite line coming after his triumphant booking of Sting (who works on his soundtrack): ‘Some victories are so spectacular they don’t need a voiceover’.
Over the course of the movie, his increasingly erratic mood and behaviour begin to alienate his crew, worry his elderly aunt, and lead to him being unable to tell facts from fiction in real life. His strangely obsessive thoughts result in him writing ‘The Book of Solutions’, which is supposed to provide the answers to any conflict from the local to the global. All of the ideas in the book are based on his own highly skewed (and often contradictory) perception of the world as he tries to finish his film while his mind simultaneously unravels.
Although Marc’s childlike ability to lose himself in whatever captures his attention at the moment is a beautiful illustration of the power of being totally present, I personally found the film lacked a satisfying story. Like Marc, the film jumps from one thing to the next without any real connectivity or explanation, although it’s an enjoyable journey nonetheless.
Perhaps this lack of a traditional storyline can be chalked up to the fact that it is, after all, a French film and the French have a far more existential relationship with story and filmmaking than Hollywood does. Or perhaps it’s because the film represents a confusing window into the internal struggle of an unsound but sometimes brilliant mind.
Regardless, it’s as darkly humorous and provocative as one might expect a French film to be and is certainly worth watching, even if you’re new to French cinema.
Ooh la la—it’s time for the 35th Annual French Film Festival. This year’s festival runs from 5 March to early to mid-April, depending on where you live. So, stock up on your favourite French treats, French Fries, Croissants, Baguettes and Escargot, and get into the spirit of this film festival. I was lucky to start the festival with a French Musketeer-flavoured film, “The Edge of the Blade.”
Set in Paris in 1887, The Edge of the Blade (French: Une affaire d’honneur) explores a world where duels have been officially outlawed but continue to be a regular practice as the only possible way to defend one’s honour.
Clement Lacaze, a fencing expert, desperately tries to prevent his nephew from engaging in an uneven duel with more experienced Colonel Berchere. Meanwhile, Marie-Rose Astie de Valsayre, a feminist fighting for women’s equality, challenges the notion that honour is solely a male affair. The movie effectively portrays various forms of duels, making it a highly conceivable experience.
The Edge of the Blade is Vincent Perez’s fourth feature, and he acts as both director and actor in his latest flick. Perez plays the film’s antagonist, Colonel Berchere, who defends his honour by duelling the main antagonist, Clement Lacaze (played by Roschdy Zem), and his nephew, Adrien Lacaze (played by Noham Edje). Doria Tiller appears as real-life feminist Marie-Rose Astie de Valsayre. Although interesting, seeing her life story depicted in her own movie would be additionally pleasing.
The Edge of the Blade is a fascinating look into a part of history that is uncommon today. It delves into the craze of duels and themes of honour and justice. The film also displays a backdrop of impending war and societal changes. Fight scenes are skillfully choreographed, and the production design adds to the film’s historical authenticity.
The Edge of the Blade captures the tension of a bygone era, where honour, pride, and equality intersect. Vincent Perez’s direction and acting contribute to a film that balances action, drama, and historical context. If you appreciate period pieces and enjoy a touch of swashbuckling adventure, this film is worth exploring.
Don’t go at a snail’s pace—check out The Edge of the Blade at this year’s Alliance Francaise French Film Festival before time runs out in April. Films and film session details are on the official French Film Festival website.
