San Vittore (Yuri Ancarani, 2019) (Patreon)

It is easy (if nonetheless necessary) to criticize power in its most heinous manifestations. If we consider, for example, the Trump administration's disgusting anti-immigration policies and weaponization of ICE, with random raids on law-abiding families and peaceful communities, caged children denied medicine and soap, or toddlers representing themselves in their own deportation hearings, there is obviously no question that, at the very least, we are dealing with a severely broken system, and at worst, a government-sanctioned tool for white supremacy.

It is a bit more difficult to criticize power when it is functioning "properly," when it is benign and even benevolent. But without any outlandish bullying and flagrant ideology, what we see is the ordinary exercise of power. And in its raw state, we are perhaps more capable of examining what the state is, what it does, and how we might reimagine it in more humane ways. 

San Vittore is a child's eye view of an Italian prison. We see children entering the facility, whose dull postmodern facade looks like a storybook castle. We watch guards check their bags. We see the kids get patted down. And then we watch as one young boy is led down a long hallway by a prison worker who towers over him. There is nothing particularly ominous about any of these people, and Ancarani takes care to show that they are all quite gentle with the kids. (In fact, it appears as if he slows the footage down slightly, to make the actions seem more serene.) But the low angle emphasizes the imposing nature of the situation. Big men lead them through a vaulted building defined by bars.

There is an art therapy program at San Vittore Prison that works with the children of inmates, and Ancarani shows us many of their drawings. While some are self-portraits and others are of their incarcerated parents or family members, most of the drawings are of the prison itself. There is an emphasis on the castle-like shape of San Vittore, a visual confusion between the images the kids know from their picture books and this concrete edifice that plays such a key role in their lives. One kid drew herself as Rapunzel, escaping the prison with her long hair. But almost all the drawings focus on the barred windows, the blank expanse of the paper crossed with barriers to the outside. Where others might see the chance for boundless imagination, first and foremost they see limits. As San Vittore shows us, we may be witnessing the foreclosure of these kids' concept of freedom. And that may in fact be the ordinary function of the state.