E quando l'anno è finito e una pensa di aver già visto tutti i film belli che c'erano da vedere, ecco che spunta la sorpresa, la pellicola che lascia il segno, la storia che conquista: Philomena di Stephen Frears. In vacanza in Italia, devo ringraziare per la visione del film in lingua originale il Cinema Apollo di Milano che, molto saggiamente, ha deciso di proiettare (e spero continuerà a farlo) alcuni film nella loro lingua madre. Ho purtroppo assistito, mentre ero alla cassa, a scene di gente che SE NE ANDAVA perché scopriva che il film era in inglese... Ecco, poi un giorno scriverò un lungo post in cui esprimerò tutto il mio malcontento nei confronti delle persone che rifiutano di vedere i film in lingua originale con la scusa ridicola che non riescono a leggere il sottotitolo e a godersi le immagini... ma oggi soprassederò (e comunque, Povera Italia! Altro che paese europeo...).
Stephen Frears, il regista di Philomena
Tanto vale ammetterlo subito: a me Stephen Frears piace un sacco. Inglesaccio di Leicester, classe 1941, è un uomo famoso per il suo parlare chiaro, la sua ironia e una certa vena dissacratoria. Uno di quei registi a cui mi sono affezionata da giovanissima e che non ho mollato più (nel 1983 ho visto una cosa sua stupenda: Loving Walter, un film per la TV con Ian McKellen, che è uno dei miei più forti ricordi cinematografici). Tendenzialmente, a Frears perdono tutto, anche alcuni film veramente brutti che ha fatto nella sua carriera (specie negli Stati Uniti, come se la lontananza dal Regno Unito gli facesse male). Ma, di sicuro, Frears non ha bisogno di farsi perdonare questa sua ultima prova, che ho trovato assolutamente perfetta.
Philomena (Judi Dench) e Martin (Steve Coogan)
Philomena è ispirato ad un libro scritto dal giornalista inglese Martin Sixsmith: The Lost Child of Philomena Lee (Il bambino perduto di Philomena Lee), in cui viene raccontata la storia vera (!) della signora Lee. Rimasta incinta giovanissima nell'Irlanda super cattolica degli anni '50, viene spedita dal padre, che la ripudia, in un convento di suore, dove Philomena dà alla luce un bambino, Anthony. Quando il bimbo ha pochi anni, secondo una prassi in uso all'epoca nei conventi irlandesi, viene dato in adozione ad una coppia di facoltosi americani. Dopo averlo cercato invano per moltissimi anni, la donna, che nel frattempo si è fatta una famiglia, decide un giorno di raccontare quanto le è accaduto alla figlia. Per una serie di circostanze, un ex-giornalista della BBC, Martin Sixsmith, si interessa alla storia di Philomena, ed insieme a lei inizierà la ricerca di questo figlio perduto attraverso l'Irlanda e gli Stati Uniti, un vero e proprio viaggio di scoperta dai risvolti emotivi del tutto inaspettati.
Non so a voi, ma a me sembrano sempre più rari quei film dalla struttura narrativa semplice, confezionati in maniera piuttosto classica, che ti regalano un paio d'ore di cinema bellissimo e sincero. Philomena, certamente, non è un film di rottura, di invenzioni registiche indimenticabili, di sconvolgimenti intellettuali, ma è un signor film dalla F maiuscola, con una sceneggiatura solida ed armoniosa (scritta per altro dall'attore principale del film, Steve Coogan, insieme a Jeff Pope), dialoghi intelligenti, pieni di ironia, mai sdolcinati o ammiccanti, attori che manco ve lo sto a dire (che della bravura eccezionale di Judi Dench cosa si potrebbe scrivere che già non sia stato scritto?) e una regia talmente discreta e al servizio della storia che è una gioia starla a guardare.
Philomena Lee (Judi Dench)
Detto questo, Philomena nasconde una forza deflagrante che cresce con il procedere della storia e con le scoperte che questa donna semplice e un po' ignorante ma dalla dignità rara (sullo schermo e nella vita reale) è costretta a fare. Mai banale, mai ricattatorio, il film riesce a dire magnificamente quello che ha da dire, con un'intensità di sentimenti - veri, forti, non quelli incolori che spesso abbondano in certi filmetti - a cui è difficile resistere. La figura di merda che riesce a far fare alla Chiesa Cattolica Irlandese è esemplare: ragazzine rimaste incinta per pura ignoranza sessuale costrette a partorire tra atroci dolori e a lavorare sette giorni su sette per espiare le loro "colpe", bambini strappati alle loro madri e venduti al miglior offerente, suore stronze che nemmeno a 50 anni di distanza riescono ad ammettere la loro cattiveria e ancora pensano di poter giudicare gli altri e di guardare il resto del mondo dall'alto della loro (presunta) superiorità morale. Ma, per fortuna, niente e nessuno può intaccare la figura di questa donna che ha lottato tutta la vita per ritrovare una parte così fondamentale di lei stessa. L'irresistibile Philomena ci fa capire che, se la giustizia divina davvero esiste, all'inferno - di sicuro - non ci marcirà lei. Evviva!
While
in New York, I went to the movies three times.
I
have seen three completely different pictures, but I have enjoyed them in the
same, intense way. Each of them dragged me in their own particular atmosphere
and I felt shaken by every vision, and it is exactly what I expect from cinema.
Here they are!
Oh,
I was SO looking forward to seeing THIS movie!
For
two main reasons: I am a huge fan of the Brontë Sisters (I grew up reading and
adoring their novels) and I am a huge fan of the actors playing the main roles.
It is impossible to have seen all the adaptations of this book made over the
years both by cinema and television, but I have always tried to be updated. The
story is a classic of literature history (written in 1847): Jane Eyre, a little
orphan, is put by her awful aunt into a gloomy school where she learns to be a
teacher and a governess. Once left the place, Jane accepts a governess position
at Thornfield House, and she secretly falls in love with the house master, the
very moody Mr. Rochester. After a while, Mr. Rochester asks Jane to marry him:
this is a much unexpected event for the girl, but things don’t go the way they
should…
The
young film-maker Cary Fukunaga (best known until now for his movie Sin Nombre) and
screen writer Moira Buffini (best known for her great work on Tamara Drewe), managed
to create a striking novel’s adaptation, with the benefit of a modern touch (especially
for the gothic, almost horror-film atmosphere), but I really think that the
movie should have been longer. The
2 hours version doesn’t allow enough time to the relationship between Jane and
Mr. Rochester to fully develop. This is the only major defect I’ve found to the
movie: when Mr. Rochester asks Jane to marry him, the proposal sounds weird not
only to Jane but also to the movie audience. It is a pity, because the
chemistry between the two actors is really amazing and all the first scenes
between them are full of great expectations. The thing I wasn’t disappointed
by, was surely the cast: young Australian actress Mia Wasikowska (her portrait
of a suicidal teenager in the first season of In Treatment was simply unforgettable!) is a
splendid Jane Eyre. Her mix of seriousness, dignity, wittiness and search for
independence gives to the character a contemporary appeal. German/Irish actor Michael
Fassbender is probably too young to play Rochester (he is just 34 years old)
but he is so good to portray this grumpy, arrogant and yet fascinating man,
that we instantly believe in anything he says or does (Zazie has been telling
you this since 2009: watch, watch, watch for this actor, he will be very famous
some day soon!). In minor roles, Dame Judi Dench, Sally Hawkins and Jamie Bell,
reminds us that, well, British actors always do it better!
If you're looking for a truly romantic movie, you can't find a better one.
And I can imagine just the following three possibilities:
1 - Heavy gambling debts
2 - The richest cachet of cinema history
3 - A temporary mental illness
If it is not one of the above mentioned causes, I really DON'T/CAN'T understand why on planet earth Daniel Day Lewiscould have accepted to play in a film like Nine by Rob Marshall.
Day Lewis, the GOD of acting, a man who changes accent at every movie, a man who played just with his left foot, a man who almost became a professional boxeur to play a boxeur, a man who spent weeks in jail to feel closer to Gerry Conlon, a man who scared to death the whole world playing the bad guy in Gangs of New York, a man who made look cool working in a Beautiful Laundrette of Brixton, a man who was simply irresistible playing a stiff dandy in A Room with a View (Cecil Vyse, I love you and I always will!), a man who left the audience speechless for his talent in There will be blood (I still have to find the right adjective to describe what he was able to do in that role, but I don't think it has been invented yet), my other favourite actor together with Jeremy Irons since I was 17, HIM, reduced to work in a movie where his producer is played (ok, ok, I'm using big words, here) by RICKY TOGNAZZI!!!!!
Stop the world, I want to get off.
NOW!
Based upon a Broadway musical vaguely inspired by 8 1/2 by Fellini, this movie tells the story of a big crisis. The one of Italian filmmaker Guido Contini, once a genius but now a director looking for inspiration and for a new story that could bring him back glory and success. Besides the problem of not having any idea for his next film (something he has in common with Rob Marshall?), Contini has to face other minor problems in his private life: his wife is sad because he is cheating on her, his lover is sad because she doesn't feel loved enough, his muse is pissed off because she doesn't have a script to work on and, on top of all that, he has to resist the assaults of an American journalist from Vogue who desperately wants to have sex with him (well, who can possibly blame her?). Poor Contini tries to escape this mess going away from Rome, but the mess is following him and he will be forced to take some decisions (at last!).
Nor the catholic religion neither the sweet memory of his dead mamma or the good advises of Lilli, his costumer designer and long-time friend, help him to find a solution, though. In the end, he looses everything: the wife, the lover, the muse, the film. But, after a couple of dark years in which he has the time to know himself better (and to grow a beard that is the only reason why it's worth to arrive till the end of this torture), here it is: back with a new and (apparently) great movie!
There are so many things I didn't love in Nine that I really don't know where to start.
First of all, every single detail, scene, character, dialogue looks/sounds extremely false. Everything is so fake that it is just unbearable (starting from Day Lewis exaggerate Italian accent). I've never seen/heard so many banalities about Italy and Italians all together in a single movie. Nothings is missing: the Vespas, Via Veneto, the beautiful women, the latin lovers, the priests, the prostitutes, Positano, il Vaticano, the mandolins in the background and... Sophia Loren!!! (in the worst role of her entire career). Strangely enough nobody is eating a pizza. The scene must have been cut at the final editing. Not to mention some of the songs with original refrains like Be Italian! or Cinema Italiano! repeated a hundred times.
Of Fellini's complex, grotesque and unique universe nothing is left here. The doubts, the deep pain, the despair, the lust that Fellini was able to transform in unforgettable cinema sequences, here are transformed in coarse, kitsch, loud and overloaded musical moments. Subtlety is not the favourite word in Marshall's vocabulary.
The presence of practically the whole Italian cinema (who's missing here?) in the movie is simply ridiculous. From Martina Stella playing badly, very badly the tipical Italian bimbo to the pathetic caricature of the Italian producer played by Tognazzi (you can't see the difference with that awful advertisement passing at the Italian TV a while ago). The only one who manages to give to his small part a charming touch is Valerio Mastandrea. Bravo!
But let's talk about the rest of the cast.
Nicole Kidman is playing the muse, but soon enough she will be able to play just the mummy. Is she still alive or we need to call some ER doctors? I thought she couldn't do worse than her part in Australia but she proved me wrong. Penelope Cruz is the lover and, ok, she is gorgeous, and nice and actually good, but in this movie she is such a damned cliché. Kate Hudson is the Vogue journalist and she is not even beautiful. What she is there for, exactly? Judi Dench (Lilli), well, is Judi Dench. She is perfect, as usual. She just needs to change her agent. The only one I really loved, is Marion Cotillard, Contini's wife. She is a very good actress, her role is nicely written and her two songs were the only two musical moments having a bit of heart and style. Maybe it is because you think about Giulietta Masina, looking at her, but finally I felt something and not just irritation when she was on the screen.
And Day Lewis? Well, he is going around, looking visibly lost.
In one of the last scenes, Contini is talking with Lilli and he said (thinking about his behaviour towards his wife): "I should etch idiot on my forehead, shouldn't I?"
For being part of a movie like that, yes Daniel, you definitely should.
I'd like to thank Nandina for giving me the idea of the gambling debts and for resisting with me until the end of the movie.
