Open Roads. Dispatch 5.

In going from Private, his 2004 film about a Palestinian family's house occupied by Israeli soldiers to In Memory of Me, his new film dealing with seminary students in Venice who want to leave the secular world for the embrace of the church, writer/director Saverio Costanzo appears to have switched gears - not just from first to second but from fourth into reverse. But, no. He has actually moved from the discipline of the military to that of the church - and from a home that becomes a kind of prison to a kind of prison that might just become a home. It is a fascinating journey that this unusual and - based on these first two films - prodigiously talented, risk-taking young filmmaker is making, and I can't help but wonder and look forward to where it next takes him.

As fraught with danger, threat and firearms as was the first film, this second is nearly serene. On the surface, that is. Characters glide through the long hallway, speak quietly, paring their verbiage down to only what is necessary. The widescreen compositions are graceful and full of austere beauty (the cinematography is by Mario Amura), and the use of a lovely piece of classic music off and on throughout the film adds to the serenity. Although the film incorporates everything from faith and renunciation to secrecy and death, we learn very few specifics about any of these. In fact, we become novitiates ourselves, in the sense that we identify most with the character of Andrea, who is attempting to forsake his old world, which seems to have grown stale, flat and unprofitable, and to embrace a new one - of which we learn as we go along. So, while little appears to be going on visibly (save a bucket of water accidentally spilled), inside these characters, one gets the sense of deep waters rising to a boil.

While the film's subject can be said to be "faith," it seems more to do with the process of coming to that faith than what the faith might mean or achieve. Consequently, it shouldn't be too difficult for those like me with an atheistic or agnostic bent to appreciate the film. It may take some discipline on the part of the viewer, accustomed as we are of late to movies that move ever faster and scream more loudly, to attend to the quiet travails of Andrea and his cohorts. But attending proves worth the effort.

On a personal note, this film stirred up a raft of buried memories for me. 40 years ago, on my first trip to Italy, I stayed in a youth hostel in Venice, near an old church. While exploring the church, I met a young priest (or perhaps a priest in training) who introduced me to several others in his group. For the next two weeks I spent time daily with this happy band of brothers, communicating via Italian, English and French, trying to talk about life and art, right and wrong, philosophy and religion, and everything else of interest (Vietnam was raging at the time). As I recall, I performed some songs I'd written to their enjoyment, and one of them played a guitar and sang, to mine. This was as rich and delightful an experience as I'd ever had, and there seemed to me to be in all of us a longing to understand and confront life and give something good back to the world. Thinking of these young men, who were able to happily discuss and argue amongst themselves (and with me) about religion, God, good and evil, and then comparing them to the somber fellows in Costanza's movie, does make me wonder at what has happened in between. The young men I knew had come of age - and to their calling - during the benign, gentle and humane reign of Pope John XXIII, who died only a few years before my trip. It's certainly a different world - and a different Church - today.

We are all of us experts at the fine art of denial, and guests of the Walter Reade Theatre at Lincoln Center got a pretty good dose of it this past Saturday evening, as Enrico Caria introduced and then did a post-film Q&A regarding his new documentary See Naples and Die. In person, the director proved a witty combination of documentarian and rah-rah Chamber of Commerce cheerleader for Neapolitan tourism. His documentary offered interesting glimpses of Naples, past and present, plus lots of charming drawings by school children of killings committed by the Camorra - the Neapolitan version of the Sicilian Mafia. I am unclear as to the specific differences between the two groups, although both appear to murder and maim with general impunity, while dishonoring Italy and everything they touch.

Because this documentary features narration by someone with a rather thick Italian accent, some of it was lost on me. The subtitles, too, came and went, not always providing a sufficient translation. We do see an interesting mix of reporters (one of them from his place in hiding), business owners and politicians telling us about the state of affairs, which seemed to improve during the last decade but now may be sliding, perhaps careening back into the darker ages. Especially interesting is the section devoted to how Naples hoped to be the beneficiary of the famous America's Cup race, which would provide thousands of new jobs yearly - only to lose out to Valencia, Spain.

Caria clearly loves his hometown, although he seems to spend most of his time in Rome these days. During the Q&A, one person asked about how much danger that journalist who had gone into hiding was actually in. "I don't think the Camorra would really kill him," Caria opined, as we in the audience recalled those children's drawings. In his pre- and post-film talk, Caria encouraged us all to visit Naples and told us how perfect a place it was, even today, for tourists. Please come, he urged us! Then a woman in the rear of the house spoke up to say that she had recently heard about the terrible problems with trash collection and how this is growing worse and creating stench, pestilence and other problems - and making Naples not such a great destination. Ah, yes, Mr Caria admitted. It's all true, and the Camorra and the politicians are involved in this as well.

Why, Enrico - you little Cleopatra! (For the uninitiated, she's the Queen of Denial.) But I did enjoy your documentary.

Posted by dwhudson at June 11, 2007 12:05 AM