Marco Tullio Giordana was moved when he received a special Leopard award for his career at the 77th Locarno Film Festival: he defined it as a little son of the Golden Leopard he won in 1980 with his debut film. He returned to Locarno to attend the world premiere of La vita accanto (The Life Apart); surrounded by the cast and in front of the Locarno audience that completely filled the capacity of PalaCinema’s main theater, he was not afraid to admit how satisfied he was with the success of his latest work.
Based on the 2010 novel of the same name by Mariapia Veladiano, the movie required a needed work of adaptation. The female protagonist of the book is an “ugly” child: how to turn into images the ugliness, which is unquestionably accepted as such and never depicted in details in the novel, without being ridiculous or offensive? The solution devised in the screenplay (written by the director together with Gloria Malatesta and Marco Bellocchio) is as narratively inevitable as it is visually effective: the girl is born with a large red spot developing from one cheek.
The meaning of the novel has been kept without giving in to a visual transposition precise but unrealistic. The aesthetic trait of the main character, however represented, is a way to make her physically “different” but it is nothing more than a distraction: a way for a visible imperfection to hide familiar uglinesses to be kept invisible.
The story takes place in Vicenza in 1980. A couple (Valentina Bellè and Paolo Pierobon) live in a large historic building downtown that also houses his twin sister, a successful pianist (Sonia Bergamasco). They are expecting a baby girl but the happy anticipation turns to gloom when she is born: Rebecca is beautiful and healthy, but has a conspicuous red spot on part of her face, a huge skin angioma that cannot be removed.
Director Marco Tullio Giordana and the Locarno Film Festival AD Giona Nazzaro (Photo Locarno Film Festival / Ti-Press)
The new mother changes her life: she dresses only in dark clothes, decides not to go out anymore and especially does not want her daughter to go out, in order to protect her from the malicious looks of others. She falls into a condition somewhere between depression and madness: she is a very unpleasant character at times because of her harsh and almost rejected motherhood, but we should try to understand her, as no one close to her is able to do.
The character of the aunt is also ambivalent, as she cuddles Rebecca and encourages her to develop her talent for music, but seems to want to take over the role of mother which she feels is rejected by her sister-in-law. The third figure in the story is the father, a good man completely inadequate to manage a family mood getting out of hand: perhaps because he is passive and incapable of compassion, perhaps because he himself is guilty of something?
The child grows up – we see her in different stages of life played by three different actors; the pianist Beatrice Barison is the last one – but inside the large family building, pain and fear prevail over everything: her growth, her personal affirmation which is the real heart of the film, must overcome silences, mysteries, anguishes, traumas, of a typically hypocritical family more concerned with the judgments of others than with its own happiness.
Compared to the novel, which has a more fragmented structure and is less somber because the adult protagonist’s narrative voice is able to serenely process her past, the film is a fairly classic family drama that, however, makes the most of the renunciation of showing alleged ugliness (turned into a symbol) to more effectively portray how one can be consumed by the fear of diversity: it is an education in the gaze that, accustomed to focusing on appearances, too often neglects to be guided by reasoning.
Compared to the novel, which has a more fragmented structure and is less dark because of the adult protagonist’s narrative voice able to peacefully work on her past, the film is a fairly classic family drama that, however, makes the most of giving up showing alleged aesthetic ugliness (turned into a symbol) to more effectively portray how one can be consumed by the fear of diversity: it is an education in the gaze that, accustomed to focusing on appearances, too often neglects to be guided by reasoning.
