Michael Radford
Il Postino

Island of Procida, 1950s: the famous Chilean poet Pablo Neruda is forced to spend a short period in exile on the small island, torn between criticism and admiration; Mario is a humble fisherman's son, one of the few on the island who can read and write, determined not to follow in his father's footsteps. The large amount of mail received by the poet forces the modest island post office to hire a private postman: Mario seizes the opportunity, fascinated by the figure of the poet, with whom, after overcoming initial awkwardness, he gradually manages to weave a solid and intense bond of friendship, simple yet beyond any definition. Thanks to Neruda, in fact, Mario discovers a love for poetry, for what surrounds him, a love towards a woman (Beatrice, the demure daughter of the island's innkeeper, whom he manages to marry thanks to his friend) and even, to some extent, towards politics. However, when the exile is revoked, those seemingly indestructible bonds are destined to loosen and gradually fade away, with the awareness that something has remained forever within each of them, particularly in Mario's sensitive soul. Five years pass, and the poet returns to Procida: here he will meet Beatrice again, who will inform him of sad events...

It's difficult to pay tribute to this film with a simple and concise review: too many themes are addressed, too many feelings and emotions that emerge from its viewing. What immediately strikes is the unexpected fusion of two seemingly different worlds if not opposite: the popular world, with its simple life based on practicality and little on reflection, and on the other side, the universe of a poet. By the end of the film, it becomes very difficult to distinguish who, between Mario and Neruda, is the true poet: what is true poetry? The simple one, deriving from direct sensations not filtered by one's cultural baggage, or the slightly more artificial one, more intellectual? How does one become a poet? These are the questions both the protagonist and the viewer pose. The finale then poses a deeply real doubt: how would young Mario's life have been if he had never met Neruda? Would it have been better, humble as it once was, or deprived of that search for emotions always sought after?... Throughout its duration, the film offers us a great visual and emotional climax; every single frame has something poetic, in its singularity: the rush of the fishermen at sunset, the island inn, the beach, Neruda's villa from which sad memories expand into the air and songs of a beloved homeland and its painful separation. Even the reading of the poet's works, paired with the struggling voice of the young postman/poet, acquires a new and seductive dimension. There are many memorable scenes, personally, I find two splendid: Mario's recording of the island's sounds with his son and the final scene, the poet's sad walk, with tearful eyes, in the bay often frequented with the young friend, powerless before the events of life, which not even a poem can capture within its verses...

The soundtrack by Luis Bacalov is splendid, primarily driven by variations on the poignant main theme, fitting perfectly with every scene, amplifying the visual emotions. On the cast, any word would be reductive: the late Noiret is incredible in the role of a man-first Neruda, then a poet. Also at high levels, Maria Grazia Cucinotta, shy Beatrice, sensual and Mediterranean woman but delicate at the same time. Unforgettable Massimo Troisi, who passed away just 12 hours after the end of filming, managing to embed in his character suffering, humility, and simplicity, in an absolutely exceptional performance.

Taken from the book "Il postino di Neruda", a unique, moving, emotional film, a poetic and artistic testament of one of the great interpreters of Italian cinema.