During the last year of WW2, a very large family dwells in the snowy hills of the Vermiglio Valley of Italy, near the Swiss border. Despite the constant talk of the conflict, the scars of war are barely visible on this society. Their towering Alps have helped to ensure that these people remain mostly unscathed. There are barely any fascists at sight. In fact, this hardly looks like Italy. The local dialect helps to emphasise their remoteness. The language is barely intelligible even to Italians. The film is presented with Italian subtitles throughout.

The story – which in partly inspired in the director’s own family history – starts in winter, when the tiny community is covered in snow, and the landscape is misty and white. Young and handsome Pietro (Giuseppe de Domenico) arrives at the community. People say that the Sicilian man may have deserted the Italian army. Nevertheless, he settles in and begins a relationship with the inexperienced Lucia (Martina Scrinzi). Grey-haired patriarch Caesar (Tammaso Ragno) is married to seemingly younger Adele (Roberta Rovelli). They have about 10 to 12 children (the exact figure is impossible to determine). The details and the developments of this family story are somber and foggy, much like the weather outside.

The action is very slow and sparse, and the pace is monotonous. Cold colours and classical music help to craft a cosy and nostalgic atmosphere – if also a little soporific. This is a film that requires a lot of attention in order to grasp the subtle plot twists and underlying messages. I have been reliably informed that even Italians struggled to follow the confusing narrative, which often lapses into incomprehensibility. A multitude of mostly flat and nameless secondary and tertiary characters make it borderline impossible to establish a coherent storyline. The topic priorities are barely discernible, vaguely split between misogyny, tradition, insularity, religion and war.

The strength of the film relies on the puerile ingenuousness and the brutal honesty of the conversations that the small children have. “You can’t marry two people”, a boy comments upon finding out that Pietro may have had a spouse prior to Lucia. “Yes, you can. That’s what bigamists do”, replies another one. “But then you’ll go do jail”, concludes the rejoinder. A pre-pubescent girl confesses that she is “bleeding in the knickers”. A perplexed adult does not know how to react: this is a society that shudders at sexual education, or any sort of physical frankness.

Russian cinematographer Mikhail Krichman, who shot most of all Andrey Zvyagintsev’s movies (including 2017’s Loveless), is behind the camera. He captures the four seasons of the year with elegance and confidence. Winter is notably bleak and strangely soothing. Despite the film title (“Vermiglio” isn’t just the name of the Valley; it also means “deep red”), Maura Delpero’s creation remains resolutely cold, both in its colour palette and in the demeanour of the protagonists. The images are soothing to watch. As a result, the sensory experience is superior to the narrative one.

Vermiglio premiered in the Official Competition of the 81st Venice International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. This wasn’t the only Italian film dealing with deserters, and showing this year in the event’s main selection.