Maxance Vincent
There may never be a more nightmare-inducing film released this year than Gianfranco Rosi’s Pompei: Below the Clouds (Sotto le nuvole). Presented in sharp black-and-white, the movie documents the day-to-day lives of the inhabitants of Naples, who are constantly threatened by the looming presence of Mount Vesuvius and Campi Flegrei, two active volcanoes that, despite their current dormancy, could erupt again and cause widespread damage.
The city is also recovering from the scars of the past. Archaeologists excavate artefacts from the destruction of Pompeii, which still attracts millions of visitors worldwide. This is strikingly juxtaposed with footage from Roberto Rossellini’s Journey to Italy and Eleuteiro Rodolfi’s The Last Days of Pompeii (Gli ultimi giorni di Pompei), projected in a decimated cinema, with only the remaining frame of a past silver screen able to present an image inside a ghost town.
Rosi’s filmmaking approach features no external interventions, minimal music (the quasi-totality of Daniel Blumberg’s compositions occurs during the end credits), and poetic visuals that envelop the audience in a slowly decaying world. Away from the “touristy” nature of Naples, a city rich in history and often breathtaking landscapes, its citizens live in constant horror. The volcanoes may once again show signs of genuine activity, putting all of them in danger. This is evident from the multiple phone calls from citizens to the fire department. Panicked residents inform them of an intense earthquake and request assistance, but most of the teams are already at capacity. It’s a perpetual cycle that, unfortunately, worsens as the earthquakes get more pronounced and frequent.
Again, Rosi doesn’t explicitly tell us this inextricable fact, but it’s not hard to grasp what’s causing the volcanoes to suddenly have more abnormal activity than usual. A city that built itself on the ashes of Pompei – despite Vesuvius still being active – is a recipe for harm. We never see the impact of the earthquakes, nor does Rosi film any of them, but their aftershocks are felt deep within us. Through a haunting employment of black-and-white, one has the sensation that it’s almost as if Naples was doomed from the start. The archaeologists and gubernatorial officials are still trying to make sense of Pompeii and clearly don’t have the manpower to withstand another volcanic eruption should it occur, even if they are closely monitoring it. At one point, “should” turns into “will,” because there’s no point in attempting to ignore what’s staring right in front of them all along, as the earth becomes more unstable, and the inhabitants are getting more frightened.
It could take another century or so for Vesuvius to erupt, but the inevitable will happen. Rosi isn’t afraid to illustrate the real dangers that lie at the heart of Napoli. He also contrasts it with the horrors experienced abroad, notably through a group of Syrian sailors who recently arrived in town after fleeing Odesa during the invasion of Ukraine by Russia. The look on one of the sailors’ faces says it all upon learning of the death of one of his colleagues, who sadly couldn’t get out in time.
The city is constantly terrorized by the looming presence of the volcano, but what’s most interesting about Below the Clouds is how little we see of Vesuvius and Campi Flegrei. Unlike Werner Herzog, who’d most certainly focus on them – and make them the central narrative drive of a movie like this one – Rosi prefers instead to stay with the citizens and observe them as they move within Naples. There are times when we will see the cloud of smoke emanating from the volcanoes, and Rosi’s camera will be well positioned to engulf us in it, almost as if he wants us to suffocate from its effects. That said, they’re only a primer for what’s to come, a visual reminder that this city will either be engulfed in flames, leaving only ash, or perhaps be sunk by the water, whose tide is slowly moving to consume it whole. The camera barely moves. Its static frames are enough to tell us that, one way or another, Naples’ existence won’t end positively.
However, amidst all of this uncertainty and fear are the glimmers of humanity that keep this community alive and, in many cases, thriving. One “regular” caller asks firefighters what time it is, an occurrence the dispatchers seem to enjoy, because it momentarily gets them out of the harrowing situations they face daily. Rosi also focuses on a group of students in homework help who learn with their tutor, Titti, not just the lessons they have to complete, but also valuable life lessons. For them, Titti isn’t just a professor, but a mentor who loves to welcome them into an environment they love spending time in.
Perhaps there will be hope amidst the ashes, but it’s hard to know when the threat still looms. Blumberg’s music, which seems to act as a warning, also intensifies our feeling of dread as the credits roll. It’s a feeling we can’t shake, because the music lingers in our minds. I’ll admit I’m not the biggest fan of Rosi’s work: it’s slow, alienating, and requires a lot of patience from the viewer to connect his juxtapositions to a broader picture. However, there was something so uniquely absorbing about Below the Clouds that any thoughts I had of Rosi’s filmography were completely gone by the time the film reached its bone-chilling final image. It’s definitely his best film, and one worth thinking about for a (very) long time…
SCORE: ★★★1/2
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