Uberto Pasolini
Nowhere special - Una storia d'amore

I am truly convinced that, to make a good film, grand special effects are not necessary (although I have always appreciated certain works in the science fiction genre such as "2001: A Space Odyssey," "Star Wars," and "Blade Runner," just to name the first titles that come to mind). The skill of a director lies in tackling great themes with that captivating style that makes you say, once you've left the cinema, that you've spent your ticket money well because the film you just watched communicated something that enriches you internally.

This is not always the case, and sometimes one is disappointed with what they’ve seen, but (and this is my opinion) a film directed by Uberto Pasolini does not disappoint and is an authentic guarantee of quality. If you loved the previous "Still Life," don't miss "Nowhere Special - Una storia d'amore," which was released in theaters yesterday after being presented and appreciated at the Venice festival last year. In this instance as well, Pasolini (unrelated to Pier Paolo, and rather the nephew of Luchino Visconti) offers a lesson in great style by addressing, among other things, the great theme of the life-death dichotomy.

Inspired by a true story, it follows the events of a simple window cleaner named John (played by James Norton) who lives and works in Belfast with his 4-year-old son Michael (keep an eye on Daniel Lamont, the young actor who plays him superbly). He is a single father, suddenly left by a woman who returned to her home abroad. And so far there wouldn't be anything unusual (let's put it that way), except that he was diagnosed late with a terminal illness for which there is no way out.

At that point, John, who certainly can't say he's satisfied with his own job, sets a clear goal: to ensure his son is placed in a worthy new family unit. By turning to social services, he begins a long journey with Michael visiting various families that have applied to adopt the little one. This process will highlight both the many aspects related to the motivations (not always commendable) driving certain people to propose for adoption, and the doubts that will arise in the natural father's mind (such as: Am I doing the right thing for my son? Do I know him that well?). Obviously, the best possible choice will occur (even though it’s a finale with a bitter aftertaste given John's declining health condition), not without demonstrating how the relationship between the two is solid beyond the cynical and treacherous fate.

One of the film's strengths, in my opinion, is its depiction of the ordinary rites of the daily lives of a single father and a child (attending kindergarten, meals at home, reading fairy tales, etc.) interspersed with the search for an adoptive solution for Michael (a mission that is not at all easy). Yet, all this daily life does not at all wear down the relationship between father and son; on the contrary. Just look at the expressions on their faces during the interviews with the various candidate families for adoption. Certain phrases (or rather gaffes) make it clear that some candidates are better lost than found, and to confirm this, just observe Michael's look carefully, seemingly asking: What am I doing here? Dad, where have you brought me? Just forget about it...

But even more noteworthy is the right and delicate touch with which the film addresses the great theme of death after life. John realizes that his health will continue to deteriorate, and so, besides leaving some of his personal belongings in a box for his son, he gently broaches the subject while taking a walk with Michael. The pretext is offered by the latter's discovery of a beetle carcass near a tree. The child's curiosity arises in the face of such a fact, and it's John who explains very simply that the beetle died due to life's inexorable laws of life and death. It left its corpse behind and thus became part of the endless natural cycle. What happened to it will happen to all of us (including dad) who are born, grow up, age, and then die, while leaving something behind that is the memory of us in others precious enough to make us perpetuate in some way. Explaining it like this to a mere 4-year-old is undoubtedly the best way to articulate the relativity of our existences (something that often tends to be forgotten). But credit must be given to the director for proposing this high theme without indulging in melodramatic tones (with its easy tear attached), nor delving into deep philosophical discussions (in the vein of Bergman's style). Ultimately it's just a confirmation that, as they say in France, "c'est la vie," and all we can do is adapt to the eternal cycle of birth, life, and death.