You
do not often see ghost stories that double as tutorials on Baroque Italian
architecture, but Eugène Green is no ordinary filmmaker. Often he reminds us
spirits need a space to abide, so what could be more appropriate than the
chapels designed by Baroque master builder Francesco Borromini? A contemporary architect
will explain the history to us as he learns his own lessons in Green’s La Sapienza, which screens as
a Main Slate selection of the 52nd New York Film Festival.
The
story is deceptively simple. In hopes of repairing their ruptured marriage, Aliénor
Schmidt accompanies her husband Alexandre on a trip through Italy and the
Italian speaking regions of Switzerland, as he pretends to research the book on
Borromini he always meant to write. However, their plans are upending at Lake
Maggiore, where they encounter the fainting Lavinia and her protective brother
Goffredo, a prospective architect student. Taking a shine to chronically ill Lavinia,
Aliénor stays on to offer her support and friendship during her latest recuperation,
sending Goffredo in her place with Alexandre. Initially, Schmidt is not
particularly enthusiastic about the arrangement, but he too is soon won over by
Goffredo’s earnestness.
If
you are expecting teary sentimentality, guess again. As a leading Baroque
dramatic revivalist, Green has a distinctive aesthetic that is guaranteed to be
divisive at NYFF. There will be no conventional theatrics to dilute the film’s
central ideas. At times, Sapienza has
the feel of Baroque drama informed by post-modernism when characters
essentially recite their dialogue standing side-by-side.
Yet,
Green would argue his dramatic austerity is actually a much closer
approximation of nature. Indeed, as the lead actors in the plays of our lives,
our delivery is often rather flat and uninspired, even though it might take on
greater significance later. After all, when couples argue, how often are they
really engaging in dialogue or merely taking turns speaking?
Ironically,
despite Green’s stylistic severity, he offers significant distractions in the
absolutely gorgeous visuals (gloriously lensed by cinematographer Raphaël O’Byrne)
and the accompanying baroque soundtrack. This film is such an exquisite feast
for the eyes and ears, anyone ought to be able to bask in its surface beauty.
Still, there is considerably more going on beneath the surface.
There
are ghosts of a sort in the film, but tellingly, the terms spirit and light are
used interchangeably. Arguably, all four major characters are haunted to some
extent. Mr. Schmidt is saddled with guilt and shame for emotionally undermining
his late partner (somewhat mirroring Borromini’s relationship with his rival,
Bernini), while Ms. Schmidt still mourns their ill-fated baby. In contrast,
their youthful friends are tormented by ghosts that do not exist yet: the fear
that the sister will eventually succumb to her persistent ailments in his
absence and the concern that the brother will sacrifice his promise out of
sibling loyalty.
Green’s
principles faithfully execute his vision, giving utterly egoless performances.
Nevertheless, as Lavinia, Arianna Nastro’s eerily incandescent presence shines
through unabated. Green himself also throws a heavy sinking curve ball as an
Aramaic-speaking Chaldean holy fool in what is just slightly too substantial to
be deemed a cameo.
