La Chimère

Arthur, the disheveled former archaeologist turned Etruscan tomb-finder, is a man on a quest. When we first meet him, he is dreaming on a train heading home after being released from prison. Once home, he soon falls in with his old gang of tombaroli (grave-robbers) and they're on the search for treasure in the earth. For the rest of the gang, treasure means loot from Etruscan tombs; Arthur seems to be searching for something else. We get clues to Arthur's search in recurring images of a young woman and her red thread first seen in the opening shots of the film. The woman, we soon learn, is Beniamina, the daughter of Flora and Arthur's beloved. Flora lives in a crumbling palazzo with Italia, her singing student, and a group of women who call Flora mother. Italia is being exploited as a servant by Flora, who believes she is tone-deaf, but Italia in turn is raising two children in the house unbeknownst to Flora. The film juxtaposes these two kinds of groups: the rival groups of tombaroli led by men and the communal groups led by women (Italia forms the second group in a disused railway station), which echoes the remark early in the film that Italy would be much less macho today if the Etruscans had beaten the Romans rather than the other way around.

The film is full of mythic and historical resonances. Arthur is a latter-day Orpheus searching for his Eurydice (the first musical cue is from Monteverdi's Orfeo), but without Orpheus's gift of music. The red thread recalls Ariadne and the labyrinth. Flights of birds (and ominous pigeons) follow Arthur. Italia's first language is Portuguese and her children are of many ethnicities. And so on. In the hands of a lesser director or screenwriter this hybrid creature of different parts (you might call it a chimera) could have been a mess, but here everything seems to cohere and to create a mythic world that resembles our own, but is at an angle to it. That everything clicks into place so precisely and beautifully in the final scene is a tribute to just how tightly this loose-seeming film is constructed. Rarely have the loose threads of a plot been gathered with as much skill or in a more satisfying way.

Many of the photographic tricks (different film stocks, different aspect ratios, scenes undercranked) sound gimmicky, but, except for the undercranking, most are there for people who notice and transparent to those who don't. The cast is uniformly excellent.

For all its playfulness and its conceits, this moving, elegiac film tells the story of a great love and is a great love story.

Poetry is the first word that comes to mind when trying to describe that movie. Alice Rorhwacher depicts a world where past and present are interwoven. A forgotten rural Italy, haunted by the remnants of Antiquity. The movie is full of symbols, and the boundaries between past and present, life and death, reality and fantasy are constantly blurred.

The main character, Arthur, is marked by grief, and hides his pain among a band of gentle thieves. All around him, there is misery but also resilience, joy, survival. In this picaresque landscape, Arthur seems to be the only character inhabited by tragedy.

Rorhwacher has the power to evoke emotions that are hard to describe. I left the theater in a contemplative state and I've been thinking about the movie a lot since then. Only good movies can do that.

An intriguing title, clearly "chimera" in the sense of a delusion or fantasy, and maybe specifically the illusion that anything at all can have permanence. Obviously we see that in the tombs of the people who lived thousands of years ago which are now being raided by this motley crew, but we also see it in the main character's relationship with his girlfriend, her mother's crumbling mansion, and the abandoned train station in town. Everything has its day, then fades away.

I have a dim view of those who pillage archaeological sites for personal gain, and probably because of that struggled initially to appreciate this film, but Rohrwacher's gentle, digressive style slowly worked its charms on me. I had been wondering if there would be any limit to what these tomb raiders might do since early on the Etruscan objects they find are relatively "minor," and the moment they discover a breathtaking shrine, creating a moral crisis for the leader, was brilliant. I shuddered when the head of a sculpture was broken off for easier transport. We then find that they're just smaller operators in a chain of corruption that extends from the wealthy to museum curators, calling to mind real-life scandals. The monetization of priceless artifacts feels like an affront in every possible way, and the main character looking down at the goddess's head felt like he was staring into his own soul.

However that's not the final moment of truth, and he comes to another fork in the road of his life, the choice between a new relationship with a woman who is ironically renovating a living space out of ruins, or to continue using his gift for divination to pillage ancient sites despite his growing guilt. Spiritually it's a life or death choice, and we find that literally that's true too. There's something stirring about our all-too-human weakness in the face of the past which looks silently back at us, a reminder that all of our greed and maneuvering is meaningless, one we don't heed.

Alice Rorhwacher does it again, another success after Lazarus, which I very much enjoy and remember (especially the ending). In this movie surprisingly, the ending is the least memorable part of the movie. The story follows an English archaeologist who dedicated his life to tomb raiding ancient Etrurian graves in an unspecified area of Italy in an unspecified period of the 20th century. He has a gift, a sixth sense that allows him to "sense" the presence of treasures. We follow his story as a gentle and quiet fish out of water in this country of poor farmers, criminals, art merchants, musicians, powerful matriarchs and fools. It's a weird fable about desecration, family, finding your roots, tradition.

It captures a feeling of "nowhere-ness" that really expresses the state of Italy as a country, with its rich history that is ultimately buried, forgotten, left at the behest of rich egotists and poor vandals. The juxtaposition of aesthetics is striking: the falling ruins of old houses and abandoned buildings with the sprawling but subdued rise of urban modernity (just Happy as Lazarus). The agonizing destruction of the past, the uncertainty and the greed of the future, and how the two don't even recognize each other in any way. A tale of unseen-ness. And at the center, Arthur, a man who doesn't belong in either of those, and doesn't know the point of his own existence.

So yeah, really good movie. There are a few flaws, though: Alba Rohrwacher's character feels like a very clear (too clear) personification of a concept, an idea, a satire, and she plays her like a Bond villain, which is strange and distracting. There are some moments (like the ending) where the metaphorical aspects of the film are more pronounced and less hidden, which is also distracting, and subtract meaning to the whole story. And finally, the ending could have been cut a little short; it's never pleasant when you stay seated and you feel like the movie should end at any time but it refuses and continuous.

Other than that, great movie. Slow, atmospheric, dreamy, makes you feel lost in time.

A rather scruffy looking Josh O'Connor is "Arthur" who has found a way to make a living in rural Italy where he uses his unique gift with a divining rod - well a big twig, really - to uncover ancient artefacts from deep beneath the surface. He's not averse to a bit of grave robbing either - for which he has recently been imprisoned, and now he and his cohorts sell their stuff to "Spartaco" (Alba Rohrwacher) and via a rather unique technique, too! What's clear is that "Arthur" is getting over something fairly monumental in his life, and we get a clue to that when he visits the rather doting but blissfully ignorant and elderly "Flora" (Isabella Rossellini) at her increasingly dilapidated mansion house where the furniture is destined for the furnace and her family all know the secret, but dare not speak it. He, himself, inhabits a shanty-town style shed abutting the old city wall, his once proud linen suit now grubby and filthy and he is rarely without a cigarette. As the plot unfolds - aided by an agreeably sparing amount of dialogue - we start to get a sense that "Arthur" is actually coming to his senses after something akin to a concussion. The pieces of his life are slowly coming together again as he and his pals make the discovery of a lifetime, only for... It's a slowly paced film, but that works well - as do the infrequent but quite punchy comedic elements of the drama. There can be a comparison drawn between the gradual unearthing of the long lost relics and with his own re-realisation but it's all delivered with a brightness that keeps it from becoming downbeat or depressing. Director Alice Rohrwacher offers us a personal story tempered with a bit of mythology and a fair degree of ill-defined humanity that is compellingly incomplete in many ways. I reckon it might merit a second watch, there's plenty of nuanced writing here.