Paolo Virzì
Notti magiche

You always have a soft spot for Virzì, even with films that are somewhat less successful than usual. Because Notti magiche is this: a work that doesn't have much to say, but says it well, in a fun way, entertaining with great skill. It says things that are all in all predictable, not new, but does so with rhythm, inventiveness, freshness, a gallery of predictable but vivid characters, somewhat foreseeable types who manage to surprise, which makes them fresher and partially redeems some aspects that are a bit too paradigmatic.

Even a film that seems to be on autopilot like this one proves useful, a little lesson on how to make minor films. Take a characterized historical period, with transversal events that recur here and there (the summer of the Italy 90 World Cup), an unmistakable city (Rome), environments brimming with words and characters (the world of cinema), a petty and crystallized system against which three young talented and naive individuals clash. And then rhythm, speed, the tension of an alleged murder, and warm photography in sepia tones. The rest comes almost by itself.

Does this mean it's a mechanical and predictable work? Not really. Because Virzì isn't stupid and knows that over time such a well-crafted system can become cloying. So he adds, well over halfway through the story, when the characters seem carved in marble, new and tasty details, twists, and deep dives into their more or less troubled pasts. And the three youngsters, the three stereotypes, emerge from the two-dimensional panel to become real characters. In short, he manages to save it at the last minute.

I enjoyed even all the minor figures. They are almost like functions that absorb human types: there's the tacky producer, down on his luck, who takes refined scripts and mutilates them with shameful cut and paste. There's the experienced and sharp screenwriter, who pins down with his terrible quips. There's the political director, resentful, always ranting the same things, drinking wine, but no one really listens to him. In short, many mannequins who, however, are convincing, partly for the always very good writing, partly for the actors fitting their various roles.

And then the variety and rotation in the episodes that follow one another is such as to avoid boredom. Also because the anecdotes are many, the subplots are well branched, there are ideas that have no real utility in the main story but enrich the mix with laughter and often fairly successful pranks. Virzì does not give in to sloppiness, to dullness, always finds something absurd and sharp to stage: whether it's a blowjob or the most absurd love story, whether it's a fart or a sortie on a Fellini set. Lots of laughs that do not diminish the harshness of the filmmaker's gaze and things do not exactly end well.

The reading key is quite straightforward, though relatable. Or rather, more than straightforward, it's a somewhat hackneyed topic, especially among those involved in cinema: talented young people, greedy and ignorant producers, the mechanization of work, those directors who instead see cinema only as a political battle, the need to make popular films to make money and finance loss-making ones, which are then celebrated as "absolute masterpieces" by young idealists. In short, well-known issues, but ones that do no harm to bring back to prominence, especially if in a fun way like in this case.