The legend has it that if you were to walk through Riparbella, a small Italian village in the rural part of Tuscany, you would come across many graves. Some were hidden, others were open, and many of these underground burial sites were over 2000 years old, filled with ancient artifacts. For centuries they were left undisturbed, as a sign of respect for the dead. Then, in the early 1980s, the grave robbers known as tombaroli they would loot these sacred sites and sell the stolen goods on the black market, which reportedly catered to both busy museum curators and the idle rich. If these thieves are lucky, they might make a small fortune thanks to a rare Etruscan vase procured during a nighttime raid. If they were unlucky, they would be cursed by the enraged spirits of the deceased. Roll the dice, take a chance.
La Chimera — the latest work from one of the (last?) shining lights of modern Italian cinema, Alice Rohrwacher — takes place in this very region, during this very past era, and collects the same exact concepts of mythology, mortality and magical realism that have characterized her short films, her collaborations (she is one of the three directors in the 2021 documentary teenage-wasteland Futura) and the previous three features. There's something that feels more ethereal and haunting about this new drama than her previous work, though, even if you count Fellini's flights of fancy, the earthy feel of farm life on the fringes, and the occasional sped-up, silent-comedy. So much of the story takes place consistently in and on the ground, whether its characters are holed up in the outdoors or down six feet. However, like her film's moody and mercurial tour guide, Rohrwacher focuses on a less earthly, more celestial world that lies just beyond our field of vision. It is the place where memory resides. That, and the souls of the dead.
About this guide: He's Arthur (Josh O'Connor), a British archaeologist who just finished a prison sentence thanks to his after-hours activities. Let me call him prodigal it would be a kindness—he has a hair-raising temper, and from the state of his dirty white suit you'd think he himself had just woken from a long dusty winter's nap. Arriving back in Riparbella, he is none too happy to see his former partners in crime. However, they couldn't be more excited as Arthur has “a knack” for finding hot spots with hidden treasures. All he wants is to be reunited with his beloved, a beautiful young Italian woman named Beliamina (Yale Yara Vianello). Her mother, Flora (Isabella Rossellini), thinks she'll be back any day now. Arthur relishes the hope of this kind matron. He seems to know that Beliamina is gone for good….
Soon, Arthur is back with his old gang and back to his old ways, “liberating” offerings left by families to ease their loved ones into the afterlife. This is us heritage as much as their own, his Italian cohorts claim. However, the Englishman takes no pleasure in looting, even with bigger paydays on the horizon. Nor does he seem too happy to be around Italia (Carol Duarte), a student taking vocal lessons from Flora. She is extremely deaf and more of a servant to her mother Beliamina than a prodigy, cleaning the house and listening to Arthur's conversations. And while Italia may be a potential new romantic interest for him, his heartbreak has anchored him strong enough to prevent him from ever moving on. His own staff chimera it is a return to a lost Eden filled with eaten apples. Arthur can keep stealing the past, but he can never, ever bring it back.
Rohrwacher has said that much of this loose, often funny and indelibly tragic story comes from her own memories of seeing similar holes in the ground while growing up near Tuscany, and the way she seems to raid her own scrapbooks to bring in her mind the Italy of the 80s. that would be impressive enough on its own. Like the way her playful demeanor doesn't dampen the simmering anger just beneath the surface of this pointed look at social inequality. However, this tirelessly inventive director continues to throw in different aspect ratios and film stocks, some of which look like home movies and others reminiscent of old 16mm prints that were released back in the day. It's probably no coincidence that Rossellini is seen as a link to Arthur's yesteryears, given her father's place in Italian cinema — though given the way that legend can go from fodder to boring to predatory to seconds, we don't think her Origin was the main reason Rohrwacher sought her out.
And even as the director shows off her knack for cinematic magic tricks and formalist gestures, she's also well aware that she's blessed with someone at the center of this merry-go-round who doesn't need the help of hallucinogens. Whether you first watched Josh O'Connor in a small place Peaky Blinders, in Francis Lee's romantic romance God's country (2017) or like the younger Prince Charles the crown, you probably thought: Oh, this guy is meant for bigger projectors. Here, he offers a link to the past that is different from the one Rohrwacher is after: the New Hollywood 70s. With his traveler's beard, bad-tempered scowl, and a linen suit that gets dirtier as things go (tailoring transfer alert!), O'Connor gives you the type of rag-tag, rich anti-hero performance you associate with at that time in cinema history. You could easily see Al Pacino around Panic in Needle Park playing Arthur 50 years ago. Given the way O'Connor lends this lost soul such a haunting charisma and genuine sense of pain — even his soft smiles come off as sobs — you're thankful we have a performer of such immense talent to do him justice the grave raider right now. (And given the excellent timing of this release, right before his next major project challengers drops, you are able to reconsider the ideas about the non-existence of higher forces. That's the kind of one-two punch that makes people star.)
There's no point in trying to describe exactly what Rohrwacher is driving at, given the mood of this film. But you may have already begun to suspect it La Chimera it is also, among many other genres, looting, a ghost story. Not necessarily in the gothic way, in the way I see the dead, but in the way that those who no longer mingle in this mortal coil continue to communicate with those left behind. You may notice a red string trailing and trailing around the frame several times during Rohrwacher's more poetic detours. This tiny bit of thread ends up delivering in such a profound way that, once you get to the final scene, it's hard not to break into a slow clap. Some wishes can come true, for a price. And others, well…it really is an impossible dream. The dead stay dead. But Italian cinema? The kind of baroque filmmaking that once characterized the European nation as a protagonist of auteurism? This, like La Chimera proves, he is alive and well.
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