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Emanuele Crialese’s somewhat autobiographical new feature showcases the immensity of feelings experienced by a wealthy family in 1970s Rome.
★★★★✰
My main interest in going to see Emanuele Crialese’s L’immensità was as a linguist; I looked forward to seeing how Penelope Cruz’s Spanishness would feature. Would she struggle with Italian? Would she be portrayed as a native? In fact, her nationality serves to mark her character, Clara, as an outsider from the beginning. This culture clash is borne out in her relationships with both her children and her peers, as well as underlining her isolation in an abusive marriage.
The film follows Clara and her three children, Andrea (Luana Giuliani), Gino (Patrizio Francioni) and Diana (Maria Chiara Goretti), growing up in 1970s Rome. Andrea, we learn early on, is a trans boy formerly known as Adriana. We see him grapple with the transition, and the support (or lack thereof) of those around him, until he stumbles upon a nearby Roma community, which sparks a romance with Sara (Penelope Nieto Conti). As Andrea starts to feel more comfortable, however, his mother sinks deep into depression, leaving his draconian father (Vincenzo Amato) and conservative grandmother (Alvia Reale) in charge of the children.
The strength of L’immensità lies in its characterisation. Crialese paints Clara as complex right from the off. A sombre conversation in which Andrea asks his mother whether she is going out because she “only ever wears make-up if she’s going out or she’s been crying”, is immediately followed by a gorgeous set piece which sees Clara and her three children turn setting the table into a sing-along dance. The backdrop of Rafaella Carrà’s ‘Rumore’, along with the bright colours, makes for an uplifting moment. The spell is entirely broken, however, when Clara’s husband enters the apartment, setting the tone for the rest of the film: it’s Clara and her children against the world.
Clara’s bond with her children, particularly Andrea, is strong, and they are fiercely protective of her. Her playfulness, as well as her Spanishness, sets her apart from the other adults in her upper-class social circle, who view her with a degree of suspicion. She seems to take pleasure in shocking people with her child-like antics, notable examples being when she encourages Andrea to accompany her as she runs through the crowded streets screaming, and when she retreats under the table to play with him, rather than endure a bourgeois meal with other grown-ups. In choosing to represent Clara as ill at ease in the company of other adults, Crialese is circumventing the ‘woman on the verge of a mental breakdown’ trope. Rather than an alcoholic, neglectful mother, she is seemingly driven mad by the monotony of everyday life but relentlessly devoted to her children.
Our other protagonist, Andrea, feels just as out of place as his mother. Loosely based on Crialese himself, who recently came out as trans, he says at one point that he “comes from another galaxy” which must have been how it felt to question your gender identity in conservative, 1970s Italy. Although he faces some hostility from his family, who pointedly continue to call him Adri, this seems to come from a place of curiosity and lack of understanding rather than bigotry.
In the face of media hysteria over how children choose to identify, this story feels like a more subtle exploration of how gender dysphoria affects young people. Andrea’s family may not understand what he’s going through, but they never stop him from expressing himself. Nowadays, we are bombarded with opinion pieces encouraging teachers to inform transphobic parents of changes to their child’s gender identity, or attempts to block more inclusive legislation from making its way through the Scottish Parliament. Unfortunately, it is a hostile time to release a personal story from a trans character’s perspective, and Crialese has done so with grace and nuance.
It is no coincidence that Andrea finds solace in his relationship with Sara, a member of another unfairly marginalised group—the GRT community. Whilst I mostly sympathise with the character of Clara, her refusal to allow her children to cross the street due to the presence of a Roma community is undoubtedly motivated by racism. Buoyed by the energy of his younger siblings, Andrea makes the journey through the symbolic reeds regardless, and his budding romance with Sara keeps him coming back long after his siblings’ enthusiasm has waned.
It would be remiss not to mention Maria Chiara Goretti’s outstanding performance as Diana, whose sunny disposition brings levity to an often intense story, and dispels many a family argument. All three siblings respond differently to the circumstances of their upbringing, but their loyalty to their mother remains unwavering.
The Verdict
L’immensità is a visually delightful film that explores important and relevant themes that will resonate with many people while maintaining a strong sense of time and place. It further cements Penelope Cruz’s status as a first-rate actor, and will surely launch Luana Giuliani on a path to stardom.
Words by Gillian Reynolds
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