I can't really handle a movie like this. It happened that a few days ago, I went to the Massimo with quite a bit of enthusiasm.
Of the film, I only knew the poster (with its exaggerated taglines) and a rough storyline: a particular event disrupts the balance of a couple, or rather brings to light aspects that were waiting for an opportunity to surface.
It happens during a little mountain vacation, together with the little ones (a little boy and a little girl), a week dedicated to snow, with skis on all day, in the cold Nordic white.
It goes without saying that the coldness of the direction is made extremely real also thanks to the setting that hardly pulls in a mood different from the two-hour stretch of the movie; narrated by a feminine screenplay and a slight touch of feminism in dialogues and roles.
During a lunch on the terrace of a high-altitude refreshment structure, a static frame shows the family at the table in the foreground, with a hint of avalanche in the background. It is actually a controlled explosion, the kind that eases the passage of the slopes by making the excess snow collapse down to the valley, but the impression is that the avalanche is getting closer and closer to the refreshment area, and people's reactions quickly shift from amused interest to full hysterical panic. Nothing serious actually, just an impression. Small problem: the dad, at the crucial moment, gets up, grabs his iPhone, and takes off, leaving the mother with the two little ones in her arms, visibly frightened and shaken.
Ouch. Ouch. Well, having said that, despite all the positive aspects one can find, this film has the huge flaw of being an internal journey as useful as a conversation that goes in one ear and out the other. The poster and the hint of the plot are 70% of the film, which for the rest is a mixture of beautiful images, not quite enlightening concepts, chatter, some well-shot scenes, and good acting.
In some ways, the male figure that emerges is a nice generic portrayal of the '76-81 generation.
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