Sergio Castellitto
Fortunata

It feels like watching a film by Caligari, or many other talented directors who know how to tell stories of the "mechanical folk with petty affairs," but without the necessary depth. It gives space to grotesque comedy more as a relief from the dramas than as an amplification or philosophical counterpoint. Just look at the recent and beautiful Non essere cattivo to understand how superficial and distant this Fortunata by Castellitto is.

There is something good: Jasmine Trinca is undoubtedly a great lead, Accorsi knows his craft, Alessandro Borghi is excellent and confirms himself here. The dramatic rendition of the scenes is also good; what is particularly lacking is the consequentiality, the interweaving of meanings, the sense of transitions and choices. In the end, a general discourse on the miseries of many remains, but without a particularly interesting key to understanding.

There could be a message linked to the necessity of patiently waiting for the stroke of luck, as it can always come; indeed, as soon as you give up, it arrives, and you're no longer there to wait for it. But it's too oblique a rumination and poorly suggested. In general, the idea is that these people give up too soon, they themselves decree their defeats. But there's no substantial construct that leads to this outcome: the plot lives on sporadic prompts, scares, arguments, small joys, nighttime self-pity.

The dramas presented here by Mazzantini and Castellitto are standardized. Dramas told just to tell something, but without truly convincing content. Take La pazza gioia to understand what it means to give substance to stories of human misery. Here it's all about a generic dad who used to do drugs, a husband who treats you badly, a drug-addicted friend with a delusional mom. These are hints without real stories behind them.

Even the characters are somewhat sketchy, more convincing in their acting portrayal than in well-rounded completeness. Emblematic in this sense is Fortunata's husband: he could have been a nice contradiction in terms, and in certain passages, his fragility emerges, but then it quickly returns to the more obvious aggressiveness. A bit better is the psychologist Accorsi, who sees these humble situations from an external perspective, alternating between understanding, helping, and outbursts. It's interesting because he is the only character to go beyond his limits, which the others impose on themselves.

The tone of the film is one of its most critical aspects: the jollity and lightness seem to be used to dodge the dramas, to lighten them. There isn't, therefore, a true will to explore a human condition, it's an aesthetical game. A great screenwriter and a great director would instead use that same Roman lightness to identify the contradiction inherent in this human condition in detail. But it takes a different class to succeed in that. Even the editing and music tend to soften, to shift quickly as if out of fear of going too heavy: it jumps to the next scene, maybe with a rock refrain at full blast. Choices that are decidedly questionable.

5.5/10