These days, when the emphasis in so many independent films is (for completely understandable reasons of prior neglect) on the feelings and relationships of women, here is a film that strides unapologetically into unusual territory - the complex emotional ties of two straight men who (with sometimes lengthy absences) have been close friends since boyhood. This is not to be confused with banal bromance films, with their pat tropes and (in too many cases) their uneasy joking about (yuk!) gayness. This is about two guys who sincerely, deeply love each other, even as they seek out and experience sexual intimacy with women. Could it be that the subtlety with which their relationship is portrayed was made possible by the many fine woman-centric films we have seen of late and that explore similar themes? Whatever, because it avoids clichés and cheap high-emotion plot twists (there are so many sequences when I braced for these and then, blessedly, they don't come), the film is deeply moving, and this avoidance of the explicit and the obvious places it, for me at least, on a higher plane than other recent efforts that cover similar territory (the recent, and in its own way excellent, Belgian film "Close", for example, in which the sexual pull between two early-adolescent boys is more fully developed, or the comparatively overblown "Banshees of Inisherin", which hammers away at you with cheaper, plot-driven superficiality).
The story is made all the more powerful by its examination of the complex relationships of the two boys, and later young men, with their respective fathers, and particularly with the father of Pietro, the narrator, (masterfully played by Filippo Timi) who, we eventually understand, became a central influence in the lives of both. The father of Bruno, the other protagonist, remains an unseen, malign presence -- though he does seem to have appeared in earlier cuts, since IMDB lists a credit for him. (Though the film in its present form clocks in at 2h27min, one does get the sense that there's a lot that ended up on the cutting room floor, which possibly accounts for how the later Nepal-located episodes seem somewhat underdeveloped and undermotivated. I would love to see a director's cut - I imagine it would be even richer and more rewarding.)
The acting throughout is on the highest level, including in the roles of the two protagonists as boys and as grown men. Luca Marinelli, in particular, who plays Pietro as a young adult, gives a stunning, understated, totally credible and moving performance. (He bears a striking resemblance to the young Gael Garcia Bernal, although, on the evidence of this film, his gifts as an actor may be greater.) The majesty of the mountain scenery (in the alpine Aosta valley) is stunningly portrayed and acts a glue to the film, grounding it in a specific reality and binding the characters to each other.
The one false note (if you will pardon the pun) lies in the soundtrack, which unaccountably draws on the English-language bleatings of a Swedish singer/songwriter named Daniel Norgren, who makes great, and to my mind cheesy, use of the organ. When the latter swells up at key moments, some of the air gets sucked out of the film's emotions. In a film of such delicacy and acuteness of observation, these moments seem like intrusions. This is one of those films that doesn't need music to make its impact, and the directors should perhaps have had the courage to leave well enough alone, as demonstrated by a few, hugely powerful shots that occur in near-total silence. But, with something this fine overall, that is a quibble.
The story is made all the more powerful by its examination of the complex relationships of the two boys, and later young men, with their respective fathers, and particularly with the father of Pietro, the narrator, (masterfully played by Filippo Timi) who, we eventually understand, became a central influence in the lives of both. The father of Bruno, the other protagonist, remains an unseen, malign presence -- though he does seem to have appeared in earlier cuts, since IMDB lists a credit for him. (Though the film in its present form clocks in at 2h27min, one does get the sense that there's a lot that ended up on the cutting room floor, which possibly accounts for how the later Nepal-located episodes seem somewhat underdeveloped and undermotivated. I would love to see a director's cut - I imagine it would be even richer and more rewarding.)
The acting throughout is on the highest level, including in the roles of the two protagonists as boys and as grown men. Luca Marinelli, in particular, who plays Pietro as a young adult, gives a stunning, understated, totally credible and moving performance. (He bears a striking resemblance to the young Gael Garcia Bernal, although, on the evidence of this film, his gifts as an actor may be greater.) The majesty of the mountain scenery (in the alpine Aosta valley) is stunningly portrayed and acts a glue to the film, grounding it in a specific reality and binding the characters to each other.
The one false note (if you will pardon the pun) lies in the soundtrack, which unaccountably draws on the English-language bleatings of a Swedish singer/songwriter named Daniel Norgren, who makes great, and to my mind cheesy, use of the organ. When the latter swells up at key moments, some of the air gets sucked out of the film's emotions. In a film of such delicacy and acuteness of observation, these moments seem like intrusions. This is one of those films that doesn't need music to make its impact, and the directors should perhaps have had the courage to leave well enough alone, as demonstrated by a few, hugely powerful shots that occur in near-total silence. But, with something this fine overall, that is a quibble.
