QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM LOCARNO

Marianna Fontana stars as an ambiguous character. She doesn’t even have a name. What the film exhibits is that this Italian woman is clearly desperately lonely, blotting out the aimless gossip her co-workers at the leather factory engage in with solitary introspection. Her domestic situation is almost as empty: there are no lodgers or guests, but a single cat for company. One day the phone rings, and she engages in conversation with a person she refers to as her “father.” From this point on, her emotions overpower her to the point where she can finally cry in the daylight.

From a stylistic standpoint, Luce is very well handled. The cinematography is stellar, the acting is fairly strong, particularly from Fontana, and directors Silvia Luzi and Luca Bellino utilise music to satisfactory results. In time honoured tradition, it’s hard to discern whether or not the central hero is living in the real world, or one they concocted themselves a la Joker (Todd Phillips, 2019). Cleverly, the background is a perennial display of blurred photography; pinpointing the focus on the lead actress at all junctures.

The script is convoluted, and occasionally muddy. This may explain why some of the secondary and tertiary narratives halt almost as quickly as they begin. Her co-workers discover that the cat has gone missing from the woman’s apartment. Jokes are made, advice is given, but the pet is rarely alluded to again afterwards. And then there’s the aunt, who makes an impression early on, but never seems to make any contributions of genuine substance to her niece’s development or well being. There’s an irritating potential love interest who drops in to see the main protagonist at a number of inconvenient moments for her; again, their camaraderie is never fully developed, with the two actors spouting nonsense at one another in an effort to keep the film’s pace going.

As narration, Luce is often undernourished, but Fontana is fully committed to her part. The lead dances by herself outside in a club, her face a mixture of spontaneous jubilation and alcoholic mirth. The whole scene from the close-ups to the glistening lights that surround the character are delivered with inventiveness and sparkle. Viewers discover the lady in deep, philosophical discussion with the man on the phone, her eyes rippling with genuine excitement at their dialogue. If directors Luzi and Bellino can claim a stand out moment, this is the one.

The man on the phone is interested in her; to the point of invasiveness. He always seems to make some remark about her “loud music”, critiquing it for the level of noise it produces and for its artful propensities. He confides in her that his dog recently passed away, making it harder for him to connect with others. From that point on, he promises to bring her on fanciful holidays, far away from the misery and mundanity of her factory labour. What Fontana’s character presents is intrigue and embarrassment in equal measure: evident from the proceedings is that she lacks a father figure.

Luzi and Bellino have produced a film that’s higher on style than substance. The emphasis is on the world building, and that sometimes comes at the expense of the story itself. This planet is a desolate, dreary one, driven by ennui and unenthusiastic labourers. But given the haphazard, fragmented approach to storytelling, some of the power is lost, leaving only a taste of isolation rather than a film full of it. The flavours tend to directorial flourishes as opposed to well-rounded character arcs and journeys.

Luce just premiered in the Main Competition of the main Competition of the 77th Locarno Film Festival.