Vermiglio

Vermiglio, from Italian director Maura Delpero, is a story of a village and a culture, during the latter half of the Second World War. The stunning photography, by Mikhail Krichman, is among the loveliest work in any film this year and is, by itself, nearly worth the price of admission. Yet, Delpero has crafted an intense work that is both a visual and aural delight, one that is subtle, powerful and emotionally rewarding, if one has the patience to bask in its quiet rhythms. Set in a remote mountain village, the film is much like a journey up those cliffs.

Courtesy Janus Films

There are thrills, but they are not the kind that make up an action film, bursting with spills or chases. This is a film that works almost on the level of the sublime, in terms of how it captures the horror and beauty of the natural world and man’s place in it. There are deaths and births, hopes and dreams that come and go. It also owes something to Fernando Trueba’s wonderful Belle Epoque, though this film is neither as warm and humorous as that, nor as immediately accessible.

Cesare Graziadei is the local schoolteacher, and he is the patriarch of a large and respected family, though he, as with many, is not precisely well off. His wife bemoans his use of their funds on records which he plays in class, instead of putting food on their table or saving to put another of their daughters through advanced school. He runs a one room school, teaching everyone, regardless of age, the same lesson, such as the meaning of the term epistolary. This results in discussions between the old man and very young children, about the nature of letter writing, and how soldiers who do not write back, may have met a grim fate. Yet, one soldier has arrived in the village.

Courtesy Janus Films

Pietro is a deserter whom few in the village seem to mind having done so, and he finds himself in a relationship with Cesare’s daughter Lucia, after Pietro saved her uncle’s life, a fact that lead to his arrival in the village. Their growing love builds alongside his literacy, which comes through a workshop Lucia’s father runs for adults wishing to learn how to read. Her father, for all his works, may hold more power, love and devotion in the village, than the local priest. His love comes at the price of absolute obedience, though he is not exactly cruel. He simply believes he knows what is best and how to achieve it.

The “plot” in this film is secondary to the happenings, to the experience of it, and it is filled with a degree of detail and naturalism that is uncommon in most films of recent years. It has, in some ways, the level of detail for the everyday that Mike Leigh’s Topsy Turvy, or for the cultural, that The Leopard, possessed. It is, of course, a very different film. But the film is all about those tiny moments, and achieving a lived in effect, one that draws a viewer into its web, and refuses to let go.

Courtesy Janus Films

The acting, across the board, is magnificently understated, with much conveyed through the way one holds themselves, or the pained longing in their eyes. The editing, combined with the direction, works to note the passage of time and advance the story, without ever holding the viewer’s hand. The ellipses hold great meaning. Combined with a delicate score, interspersed with the supposed records of Cesare’s collection, the music is a fitting accompaniment to the tragedies that slowly unfurl on the mountain, and the inevitability of change, or its refusal. A film certain to be not for everyone, yet, give it a try and you may find one of the most unique works of the year.

Vermiglio is now playing in select theaters.