ITALIAN FILM FESTIVAL: Distilled to essentials, Sorelle Mai has its roots deep in domestic family sagas. The loosely plotted action abounds with melodramatic tropes: absent parents, the support and allure of extended family, the tug of love between siblings over a younger child; the dilemma of balancing career and family commitment; and the obligations that come with schooling young people in the ways of the world"¦
Still, there is not much that is conventional about the way these dramatic situations, ideas and themes are expressed here. Sorelle Mai is a demanding film, with an experimental edge, and its full of odd quirks and fascinating digressions, all delivered in a visual style that looks 'home movie’ and deceptively simple, but is actually a supreme example of cinematic sophistication and personal filmmaking.
Someone once said that all art is autobiography. Writer/director Marco Bellochio embraces this notion wholeheartedly it seems. For starters, he’s shot the film in his hometown of Bobbio and cast several members of his immediate family in lead roles, including two aunts, his daughter, his wife and son. He’s combined this with a production style that makes use of his role as guide and mentor; the film was shot over 10 years, and was crewed and developed with students from 6 different groups of the Fare Cinema workshop. In fact, there’s a kind of diary aspect to the whole thing: the film is broken into segments, and each episode is announced with a large title card marking a certain year – 1999 and 2004-8. These years were, apparently, the years of Bellochio’s workshops. (Actually this extends a short feature which debuted in Rome in 2006.)
The film deliberately blurs, distorts and exploits actual relationships with its cinematic representation. Indeed the film finds its emotional centre and interest in the way Elena (Elena Bellocchio, the director’s daughter), who we first meet at age five, observes the family’s conflicts and travails.
It’s the adults, though, who dominate the screen time. Sara (Donatella Finocchiaro, the director’s wife) is an aspiring actor who often leaves her brother Giorgio (Pier Giorgio Bellocchio, the director’s son) to look after Elena, which leads to all sorts of angst and issues. Meanwhile, this trio derive wisdom and inspiration from their spinster aunts, Maria Luisa (Maria Luisa Bellocchio) and Letizia (Letizia Bell, both Bellocchio’s aunts); some of the film’s best moments have these characters just talking – about the 'old days’, the customs, the cultural observations, and mores – while the younger cast members simply listen. These moments feel real, but I’m not certain whether they are improvised exactly and perhaps it hardly matters one way or the other. What seems important is that Bellocchio achieves a discipline and a rigor in his screen storytelling which is really powerful. It could be argued that this kind of filmmaking could be seen as indulgent, or rather too loose, since it seems absorbed in putting on screen a mood of 'reality’, subordinating all classic dramatic values to a so-called 'authenticity’.
Bellocchio, though, seems a playful modernist. Throughout we’re reminded always that this is a movie (with striking cuts, abrupt sound breaks and flashes of the director’s own films). The characters here lead eventful (even traumatic lives) and the so-called handheld documentary style seems less to do with affecting 'truth’ but more to do with budget and resources. Sorelle Mai is actually full of emotional violence but it doesn’t give into it, or apologise for it. There’s a strong life force here that’s inspiring, because even if the people here are confused and don’t have the answers to their imponderable problems and spiritual sadness, they seem unprepared to give in. Family here, then, is a strength, a weakness, and a place to go back to. It’s a fascinating, dark gem.
