QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM MALTA

The year is 1997. Caterino Lamanna (played by the director Michele Riondino) is a goofy, happy-go-lucky worker at the Ilva Steelworks of Taranto, a medium-sized town in the impoverished region of Apulia, in Southern Italy. His insalubrious job consists of cleaning batteries, which could have serious repercussions for his health. His girlfriend dreams of getting married and living “a normal life, just like other couples do”. Caterino does not seem capable of fully grasping her burning desire for social ascension. He is neither ambitious nor bright. Perhaps it’s precisely of his maladroitness that his unpleasant and manipulative boss Giancarlo Basile (Elio Germano) gives Caterino a very dubious promotion, which he grudgingly accepts. He becomes a mole: someone required to spy and to rat on his very own colleagues (in particular the union representative Renato, played by Fulvio Pepe). Caterino seems blithely unaware of the moral and practical repercussions of his new job – a very unethical and potentially illegal role.

The film title (which translates as “cold rolling mill) refers to a decaying building inside the factory’s large facilities. The fact that it resembles a dilapidated prison is no coincidence. The place is a punishment for the demoted employees who refused to accept the company’s “reorganisation” . It’s not entirely clear whether our allegiance should be with these people. Some are notably slack: they spend the day playing cards, smoking cigarettes on the stairs, or burping on the telephone. Their actions are duly reported to Giancarlo, prompting them to suspect that there’s a spy amongst them. Yet there are few reasons to suspect that Caterino is the culprit.

Comparisons to Palme d’Or winning Elio Petri’s The Working Class Goes to Heaven (Elio Petri, 1972), also a film about a “traitor” within the factory environment, are inevitable. The difference is that old Italian classic dissects the fears and the anxieties and the working class, while also providing a vivid picture of union activism at a time when socialist aspirations were rocking Europe. Riondino’s film focuses on the character’s inscrutable personality (undoubtedly aided by the fact the director triples down as protagonist and co-writer). In fact, the story itself is a little inscrutable. It lacks the political vigour and emotional strength of Petri’s widely acclaimed film.

Caterino’s girlfriend dances to the Bloodhound Gang’s The Bad Touch (“You and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals, so let’s do it like they do on the discovery channel”). That’s presumably an attempt to emphasise her infantile personality, in line with her partner’s. Despite his efforts, the heavily moustached Caterino is hardly authoritative, and his colleagues often ignore his orders, or simply laugh him off. Riondino delivers a satisfactory performance as an ingenuous man torn between his duties and his morals. His real discernment abilities come to surface at a very unconvincing courtroom sequence at the end of the story.

Michele Riondino’s debut feature is a commendable effort to denounce the dirty machinations of capitalism. Sadly, the complexity of the story and the ambiguity of Caterino’s psychology cause the narrative arc to collapse. At times, it is very difficult to follow the twists, the developments, and the real motives of the characters. The stagey interactions and the disjointed script prevent the movie from reaching its full potential, and becoming a truly universal piece of filmmaking. All in all, this is an esoteric endeavour. Italians may find it recognisable and relatable. Others may find it a little difficult to understand and to engage.

Palazzina LAF is in the Official Competition of the 2nd Mediterrane Film Festival.