This film about the complicated bonds of love and loyalty between two brothers is carried forward on the strength of its mysteries. The profoundest mysteries inhere in the subject, of course; others arise from Gianni Amelio's elliptical, episodic approach. Beginning in 1958, the brothers are part of the Sicilian migration to the industrialized North of Italy, specifically to the city of Turin. The younger Pietro has been there for a year already, going to school; he's the White Hope of his family, the one with brains, expected to amount to something – and chafing at the responsibility, though delighting in the bella figura he gets to cut. The elder brother Giovanni arrives intending just a short visit, but winds up staying on; at first sight he's a sweet-natured lunk, but then we see his steel. He goes to work to support Pietro's schooling; is exploited by the labor brokers who take an extortionate cut of the migrants' wages; little by little gets out from under them, and then replaces them: a familiar migrant's tale, one that usually brings tragedy in its wake.
Everyone in the film is more and different than a first estimate can take in. They make choices that defy our prediction. We see the effects, but learn the why and wherefore only partially, and always belatedly – just before the story propels us forward a year or so in time, and we have to get our bearings all over again.
The large-scale recreation of the city of Turin in its historical moment is beautiful, melancholy and alluring. Amelio has a showman- poet's sense of just how long to tantalize us before pulling back to reveal the full scope of this wonder: those are moments of quiet awe. At times, too, the characters are foregrounded while the city stretches wide and deep – miles deep – behind them. It almost could be rear-projection or green-screen trickery, but then the characters turn and walk off into the distance, which is real. The city feels a living thing then. And as they move away from us there comes a pang, as if foreboding a time when the loss will be final.
Everyone in the film is more and different than a first estimate can take in. They make choices that defy our prediction. We see the effects, but learn the why and wherefore only partially, and always belatedly – just before the story propels us forward a year or so in time, and we have to get our bearings all over again.
The large-scale recreation of the city of Turin in its historical moment is beautiful, melancholy and alluring. Amelio has a showman- poet's sense of just how long to tantalize us before pulling back to reveal the full scope of this wonder: those are moments of quiet awe. At times, too, the characters are foregrounded while the city stretches wide and deep – miles deep – behind them. It almost could be rear-projection or green-screen trickery, but then the characters turn and walk off into the distance, which is real. The city feels a living thing then. And as they move away from us there comes a pang, as if foreboding a time when the loss will be final.