La chambre du fils

THE SON'S ROOM (2002) ***1/2 (ITALIAN W/SUBTITLES) Nanni Moretti, Laura Morante, Giuseppe Sanfelice, Jasmine Trinca, Sofia Vigliar. Excellently realized depiction of a loving Italian family who find themselves questioning a bleak future when a tragedy strikes shaking them out of their idealized trappings and seeking resolution to unanswered questions. Moretti, one of Italy's finest comedians, does a superb low-key job here in acting, directing and co-writing (with Linda Ferri and Heldrun Schleef) while maintaining an even-keeled balance of emotions, high and low, throughout thanks also to his talented cast. Haunting, humane and ultimately heart-rending yet never condescending and a final note: one of the most naturally performed interpretation of a nuclear family that truly loves one another equally; a damn rare thing to marvel.

Nanni Moretti's deserved winner of the Palme D'Or was a controversial choice, if only because it is a film grounded in reality and truth. We know these characters for a change, they are the neighbours whom we fear approach because of their loss and raw pain.

Moretti, in his subtle yet magnificent performance and in his deft, assured direction, has crafted a film which transcends cliche and sentimentality in spite of its well trodden subject matter. As in his earlier effort, 'Caro Diario' the viewer is held transfixed by his languid cinematic storytelling, which is nonetheless riveting.

Without resorting to pat endings or easy solutions to the characters' individual suffering (beautifully rendered by each of the performers, whose roles portray distinct yet relevant facets of grief) the film manages a redemption in unexpected, yet highly satisfying, fashion. I left the screening at the Toronto International Film Festival feeling completely exhilarated and grateful to this natural filmmaker.

A beautiful portrait of true, real emotion.

Moretti becomes more mature, more intimate, more personal. While playing an increasing role in Italian politics (with his movement of opposition to the right-wing government), in his films he has abandoned the sharp political criticism of his debut (Ecce Bombo, Io sono un Autarchico), and the cynical and funny social observations of "Bianca," "Palombella Rossa," and "Caro Diario" to give us a compelling portrait of grief.

A noticeable thing about this film is that the stupidity and ignorance of the MPAA gave it an R rating. Apparently, according to the MPAA, teenagers are welcome to see the stupid violence of "Independence Day," or the idiotic cardboard characters of "Spider Man" (both rated PG-13), but should not, except under adult supervision, know that the death of a teenage child is a shocking and traumatizing experience for a family, and could shatter their painfully constructed unity.

The decision of the MPAA provoked outrage in Italy and surprise in Europe. It is amazing that people of such obvious ignorance should be allowed to make such crucial decisions: they should be held responsible for the garbage they feed to teenagers, and for keeping them away from meaningful films.

`Son's Room' reminds me why I love character-driven European films: the pace is slow, the camera lingers on a face longer than an American shot would dare, and the theme is frighteningly simple but almost always universal. In this case, a loving family has lost a son; the grieving process and the letting go are painful and inevitable. The film makes it all as lyrical as could be possible for a grim topic.

The point of view is consistently the psychiatric-professional dad's, who regrets he had not forced his son to run with him rather than go with his friends that fateful Sunday. Dad's sessions with clients frequently mirror his personal family life, before and after the tragedy, adding a melancholy connection between this flawed evaluator of men and his clients. In a dream he tells one of his clients, `I'm just as boring as you are,' certifying that our analyst and the rest of us are neither above nor below the ties that bind humans. Nanni Moretti writes and directs with Jean Renoir's gifted sense of the romance and tragedy of living everyday.

The exaggerated scenes of happy family life before the tragedy, for instance when they lip-synch to tunes during car trips, serve to highlight the unbearably real grief after. Eventually it takes a young outsider to move the characters to another level of reconciliation. Throughout the film the son's room maintains it role as motif to remind that the son, like us, lives in this space for just a short while.

This plot resolution is best expressed by the lyrics on the radio as the family comes to terms with its grief in the final scene

"Here we are stuck by this river/You and I underneath a sky/That's ever falling down, down, down."

This ending fits well the need to get outside grief to beat it at its corrosive game.

`Son's Room' shows that we will be crushed by that sky if we don't take care. The film deservedly won the top prize last year at the Cannes Film Festival.

It takes a certain amount of cheek to write, direct and star in your own films and Nanni Moretti's earlier work, 'Carao Diaro', was certainly eccentric, as he played himself as an annoying and socially limited loner. In 'The Son's Room', he proves he can act a role, in a more orthodox portrait of a family struggling to come to terms with the death of their son. The portrait of inter-generational relationships seems over-idealised (and how many teenagers are into Brian Eno?), but the real strength of this film is its sense of inicidentality. Instead of playing as straight melodrama, we see the family trying to continue with their lives, and in particular Moretti's character, a psychotherapist, interacting with his patients. The importance attached to the chance juxtaposition of events is reminiscent of Kieslowski, as is some of the dialogue: stylised but profound, even (or even because) its relationship to the main events is oblique: the whole carries meaning precisely because the individual parts are not overloaded, everything is potentially symbolic but nothing is forced. At the end of the day you believe in these characters; as a result, their tragedy rings with truth.