Michele Placido
Il Grande Sogno

Watching a serious (?) film sometimes constitutes an educational moment full of insights, a mine of information and themes with significant repercussions on current affairs that teachers encourage us to extract from the work to reflect. And also to get a more or less positive grade. At least that's what happened to my classmates when, the day after watching "Il Grande Sogno" (which was attended by throngs of young punks shouting and awkward teachers chasing them around calling them to order), the Italian teacher suddenly asks to write a collection of personal impressions of the film as a mini-review within an hour.

That day I was absent, but the next day the same teacher took us to the computer room and (after returning the pseudo-reviews marked with various 4s, 5s to the students) asked everyone to rework their scribble, improving it and integrating it with existing critiques and opinions on the Internet. Those who were unable to write the first surprise review would obviously skip that step and move directly to the second phase, which to many would have meant a 'copy & paste with some verbs modified just to show it wasn't exactly identical'. Conversely, what I did (but finishing the work at home, where I could organize my ideas without the pressure of the teacher and looming time) and, presumably a few others, was to read three reviews on websites, which I won't cite and rework the concepts according to my points of view, sometimes decidedly opposing the critic's opinion and therefore upsetting it.

I wanted to include this introductory note before the review to tell you that it was first created as a school assignment, then beautified, perfected, and extended for the readers of Debaser. Let's start the dance.

The latest creation of Michele Placido, "Il Grande Sogno," is first and foremost a strongly autobiographical and nostalgic work, then a film about the Sixties.

In fact, even though the story begins with scenes symbolizing that 'something is about to change' (or rather 'someone wants to change things'), such as the unexpected rejection of the rules (by the young Laura, played by Jasmine Trinca) imposed by the 'perfect bourgeois family' or the rebellion against teachers and, more generally, against the system fostered by Libero (Luca Argentero), it unravels during the development of the film, losing sight of the initial intention.

What was supposed to be a film about the Sixties' movements becomes more and more a film about three young people of the Sixties and their existential dilemmas and love problems. From a human and moral point of view, the work is very successful thanks to the emblematic Nicola (the most important male protagonist, played by Riccardo Scamarcio), a young Apulian policeman not at all proud of the uniform he wears and indeed eager to change his life.

Not for nothing, the policeman's big dream is to become an actor, as we are informed from the beginning of the film. Unfortunately, however, due to higher orders, he finds himself spying at the University where Laura and Libero study to provide information to the authorities about the occupation's instigators. As expected, however, his already faltering determination clashes with the classic amorous unforeseen: the strong feeling he has for Laura (for the entire duration of the film, the relationship between the two will be conflicted and tormented due to social differences), which will lead him to 'conversion' and to the abandonment of the uniform to pursue his aspiration.

Like Nicola, every single character harbors a vain hope in a more or less unattainable dream: Laura and Libero ardently desire a better Italy and world, where workers and well-off people can study together at the same University, where there is no more war in Vietnam. On another hand, Laura's parents hope until the moment of definitive disintegration (symbolically marked by the father's death and the arrest of one of Laura's brothers) for a reconciliation of the 'perfect family'.

The film's female protagonist, to defend and assert her genuine ideals, will therefore change her lifestyle, moving from the comfort of a family's well-off apartment to the disordered room of a motel, shared by more students and protesters and where absolute freedom reigns.

But, despite the film's protagonists fighting with all their might and practically demonstrating their desire to change the world, Michele Placido's Sixty-Eight ultimately reveals itself as a sad and dark period, where everything good is violently suppressed by the authorities. Even the love between Scamarcio and Trinca is destined to succumb in the dark and desperate final moments of the film, because the ex-policeman (a redeemed spy who had therefore switched to the 'side of the enemy') is once again labeled as a traitor by the girl.

Another symbolic scene that once again underscores the concept that nothing can change except by the will of the powerful is the acting lesson: Nicola and other aspiring actors ask the teacher if they can make a change to the text, but she dismisses them by shouting that the text has been the same for a hundred years and certainly they don't have the arrogance to change it.

The acting alternates between shaky and very unconvincing moments (among all, Trinca's crying toward the end of the film) and others of a certain prominence, as demonstrated by the cameo of Silvio Orlando (the 'Father of Giovanna') or the interpretation of Laura Morante (one of Muccino's troubled wives). Instead, it seems that Luca Argentero recycles the same expression for most of the film and fails to seem real.

From a historical point of view, moreover, the film is partially disappointing. It is understandable and forgivable to the director, as it is difficult to summarize such a significant period, full of events and social and cultural fervor like the Sixty-Eight in a single work, but in the moments when the characters launched into sharp critiques, it would have been preferable to go more into the specifics of certain situations. The triggering reason for the rebellion, probably according to the director's idea, should emerge from the sequence of events, but I would have preferred greater clarity. The lack of a historical imprint in the film is nevertheless compensated for by the strength of the images, whose impact often captivates the viewer and makes them participate in the protagonists' dramas. Their tormented stories are nevertheless an integral part of Sixty-Eight and allow us to understand what the predominant mentalities at the time were.

I have to say that like every character in Placido's autobiographical outpouring, I too have a dream (not that big though): not to be forced every time I watch Scamarcio and Argentero in an Italian film!

Ultimately, however, "Il Grande Sogno" turns out to be a success on some fronts and a disappointment on others, but overall it deserves a passing grade.