Maxance Vincent
The opening moments of Maura Delpero’s Golden Globe-nominated Vermiglio will indicate whether you’ll be compelled to watch this (extremely) slow-moving drama to the very end. While it ultimately builds up into a semi-interesting finale full of dramatic power whose long, pronounced silences speak far louder than words, what comes before feels somewhat laborious and not as enthralling as Delpero might think it is.
Some will argue that over ninety minutes of ‘set-up’ is necessary to be shocked at the story’s tragic turn. Once this ‘turn’ arrives, the heaviness felt by its protagonists is so towering that the audience also feels it deep in their bones, not only for the impact of its central family but also in the ramifications it will have in the small village of Vermiglio (hence, the movie’s title). When the film begins, we meet the Graziadei family a year before the end of World War II, where the peaceful, routine sanctity of the village is challenged by the arrival of Pietro (Giuseppe De Domenico), a deserter who, we hear, saved the life of one of a close family member during the war.
Pietro wants to move into the village, at least until the end of the war, as he does not feel safe coming back to Sicily at this moment. The film’s first half sees the family debate on whether or not this is a good idea, with its patriarchal figure, Cesare (Tommaso Ragno), ultimately caving in and offering him lessons to learn how to read and write. Cesare is a teacher and not only leads the village’s school but also teaches his family members. While most of his children excel academically, Cesare isn’t afraid to give them a failing grade if they cannot produce good results in their examinations.
In one of the film’s best scenes, Cesare fails his older son, Dino (Patrick Gardner), while passing his other kids, who all have strong grades, with one at the top of the class. This creates a fractured rivalry within the family that doesn’t get explored further than a confrontation where Dino can’t process that his father would do something like this. And therein lies the single most significant problem of Vermiglio: it’s a film filled with compelling ideas and thematic throughlines, yet none of them are dissected to their fullest extent.
Theoretically, the arrival of a deserter like Pietro should cause great upheaval in a mostly peaceful village whose ordinary occupations are giving them a quiet life away from the horrors of the war. Delpero barely scratches the surface of what could’ve been the dramatic center of the movie and instead focuses on several vignettes that are intriguing in isolation but don’t go anywhere when the film ends. One such ‘character arc’ involves the most religious family member, Ada (Rachele Potrich), who is so devoted to her connection with a higher power that she will do anything to atone for her sins, even if she always moves closer to a sinful life than a purely ‘good’ one.
There are glimpses of a study on how religious fanaticism brings no joy to Ada, who continuously suppresses her carnal desires to make her “chaste” and pure of heart. None of this is explicitly shown but inferred through fragmented scenes where elements of who Ada truly is are indirectly implied, either through her interactions, or in how she confines herself to one corner of the room to pray for atonement. Something is up, but Delpero doesn’t seem nearly as interested in developing this, or any other, character, leaving the emotional experience of Vermiglio to feel rather cold and always at arm’s length from the protagonists than being a closely-knitted and intimate drama.
Only when Pietro leaves Vermiglio for Sicily does the movie begin to unravel itself and quietly devastate, thanks to a powerful, towering turn from Martina Scrinzi. She plays Lucia, the woman Pietro becomes infatuated with once he moves to Vermiglio, so much so that he asks for her hand in marriage and her father’s approval, which he accepts. However, what Cesare and Lucia don’t know is that Pietro holds a secret that he does not want the family to discover, so he has to return to Sicily and hopes to come back when all of it is sorted out, leaving Lucia pregnant with their child.
Once this “secret” is revealed, it repurposes the entire narrative, and the movie finally reveals itself. But there’s about half an hour left in the movie, rendering it unimportant when it should’ve been the specific narrative arc that would’ve made this family drama all the more worth watching. When it occurs, this revelation consumes the protagonists whole and, in some cases, completely destroys them. The village is relatively quiet, and such a secret can tarnish an entire family. What does this mean for Cesare, the respectable professor, who now gets ignored when he walks into a restaurant instead of being welcomed? More importantly, what does this mean for Lucia and her yet-to-be-born child? These are questions that Delpero moves at the forefront of her picture but doesn’t have the patience to answer, or at least give us some clues of the impact this secret has on the family and Lucia beyond surface-level observations.
Instead, the final section of Vermiglio arrives far too late and barely musters up interest in what could’ve been a riveting drama on a fractured family hoping to unite once more after the war has ended, but is instead tainted by a secret so massive they may never recover from it. The performances from its professional – and non-professional – actors are all decent, alongside some terrifically composed images from Mikhail Krichman (who also shot Joshua Oppenheimer’s The End, another wasted opportunity). Still, it sadly isn’t enough to warrant our attention and, most importantly, time.
SCORE: ★★
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