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61/100

Another instance of my tabula rasa approach paying dividends. Only in the last few seconds, as we watch the three-year-old dancing around for no apparent reason other than to showcase her cuteness, did I suddenly think "Oh, that must be Ferrera's real-life daughter." Confirming that further revealed that Cristina Chiriac, whose oddly amused performance I'd found tolerable at best (though still less off-putting than Emmanuelle Seigner tends to be, I gotta say), is Ferrera's wife, and that their actual Rome apartment serves as the characters' abode. Would I have processed Tommaso differently had I been aware going in of just how autobiographical it is? Quite likely, since I spent most of the film marveling at how...un-Ferrara it feels. Granted, it ultimately lands somewhere familiar, taking a violent turn (for which I didn't much care) en route to a self-pitying summation that literalizes the "Ballad of John and Yoko" chorus (with a wry nod toward Dafoe having been up there once before). Most of what precedes that, though, is remarkably simple and direct, devoid of the jittery fervor that usually animates his work. Took me a while to realize that this is in part a stealth recovery drama, as the first AA meeting we see is pitched at the same quietly observational tenor as, say, Tommaso shopping for groceries, or teaching what I assume is his acting class, or struggling—sometimes successfully, sometimes less so—not to hit on women who are even younger than his beloved but possibly unfaithful spouse. It's far and away the slice-of-life-iest movie that Ferrara has ever made*, and the occasional dreamlike interludes paradoxically reinforce its overall sense of atypical normality. Again, I wish that its climactic shift into severe self-criticism had taken some less hackneyed form, and that Ferrara had hired an actor of Dafoe's caliber to play opposite him. (Chiriac's improvisational skills are not formidable.) But most of my time in this aging reformed addict's company was very well spent, even when—perhaps especially when (I'm thinking of Tommaso walking that comely fellow alcoholic home, or the caterwauling vagrant)—nothing terribly exciting happens. Plus, coming up with a strong ending to something ambling and anecdotal? Christ, you know it ain't easy. 

* I haven't yet seen some early films, including Ms. 45 and The Driller Killer, but feel pretty confident that they bear little resemblance to this one. Call it a hunch.

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Comments

Anonymous

Can everyone in the $5 tier please vote for MS. 45, thanks.

Anonymous

Not sure from your second sentence how you felt about the fact that the little girl isn't just being cute in the last few seconds, that's also the first time she says anything at all to her dad, whom she's treated pretty much as a stranger throughout the movie (and presumably she's talking to Ferrara at that moment, not Tommaso). In fact, the film cuts to credits immediately after she says "Dada". Found that quite a devastating ending tbh, a case of Ferrara taking off the mask (such as it was) to acknowledge his daughter's love, and how lucky he is to have this second chance as a 68-year-old ex-junkie.

gemko

I wondered what you meant by “final minute is legit devastating.” Didn’t even register the kid’s previous lack of dialogue, to be honest—not knowing that it’s Ferrara’s daughter, I just chalked that up to the character being only tangentially important (e.g. as another source of anxiety for Tommaso, who imagines her being hit by a car and whatnot). Not sure it makes any earth-shaking retroactive difference in my own mind, though. Maybe if I saw it again knowing the autobiographical element from the jump.

Anonymous

I am sure I will view this film differently than I would had I not read this. This stuff concerns me. One time another critic expressed a major reservation about a film because of some knowledge he had about it (I think) beforehand. This concerned the use of candid footage in Under the Skin (or am I just more oblivious than others?). Makes me wonder how many movies I can potentially ruin - and how many I have, by reading any reviews for movies I haven't seen, like, for example, here. I'd have nobody to blame but me, though. Meanwhile, that critic laid the blame on the movie, which I found weird (so I assumed it was in the press notes, or the festival description or something). [Edit: just saw the Letterboxd entry for Tommaso; nevermind, I would most probably have read that before adding it to my watchlist if I came acros it.]