Vermiglio

VERMIGLIO (2024) Mauro Delpero's beautifully crafted drama about an Italian family during the waning days of WWII. They are a large (and still growing) family headed by a proud and vain schoolteacher Cesare (Tommaso Ragno) in their small village in the Alps. Pietro (Giuseppe De Domenico) a soft-spoken Sicilian soldier who has escaped the Germans at the front is hiding out in the Vermiglio township. He falls for the eldest daughter Lucia (Martina Scrinzi) . The romance momentarily is a ray of hope for the family even if they have their doubts about the wayward young man.

Delpero's script captures the trials and tribulations of the entire clan, including the children. The story is never rushed, yet never feels slow. Each individual is given respect by her writing and tender direction. Mikhail Krichman's burnished cinematography handsomely depicts their existence. The mountains give the exteriors a grandeur, but it's never merely picturesque. It's all part of the landscape for the villagers hardscrabble life during wartime.

VERMIGLIO shows that no matter how far away from the battlefield one may be, there are always repercussions both immediate and long-term. There is pain, secrets, loss and memory. As the movie eloquently states: Tears can be both a sign of sadness and sorrow - as well as hope and happiness.

I found "Vermiglio" a very beautiful, unusual and yet highly relevant movie. This is cinema at its best. The acting is excellent and the narrative is very well constructed, highly touching and superbly conducted. This is one of the best movies I saw in recent years. I found the language extremely beautiful and the photography just amazing. The story of the family is highly plausible and the references to the social reality of the Trentino during and after the Great War appear truthful and deserves to be looked at as an experiment in social analysis. The respect with which the religious dimension is treated deserves my highest praise. In other words, besides being poetic and truly beautiful, «Vermiglio» brings us back to a world that is about to disappear in Europe. As non-Italian, I am now ready to visit the real Vermiglio and once being there reflect on the effects of this wonderful movie. It deserves to be seen by anyone that loves real cinema, that searches for the understanding of the human condition and, most importantly, does not abdicate of the aesthetic dimension of life in the world of today. The music is excellent and the sound of the «Miserere» sounded in a moment of deep sorrow in the family was deeply touching for me. I congratulate all those who participated and contributed to this beautiful work of art.

As a fan of historical films, Vermiglio really stood out to me with its immersive take on the past. The movie does a remarkable job of transporting you to a different time, blending historical accuracy with an intriguing mystery. The setting and costumes feel authentic, adding a layer of depth that makes the world come alive in a way that's both captivating and thought-provoking.

The plot unfolds at a steady pace, revealing its secrets bit by bit, and while it may be a bit slow at times, the performances keep you invested. The lead actor does an excellent job portraying a character caught between the weight of history and personal turmoil, and I found myself connecting with them on a deeper level.

The film offers a unique lens on history, not just as a backdrop but as a force that shapes the characters' actions and decisions. It's this combination of historical context and personal drama that makes Vermiglio an engaging watch for anyone who enjoys films that offer both a captivating story and a rich historical setting. Although it's not flawless, it's definitely a worthwhile experience that lingers long after the credits roll.

A visually captivating film and well acted. Beautiful scenery in the Dolomites make Vermiglio an appealing watch, which helps offset this bleak tale. A close knit family centric community where options for the younger generation are limited, and limited even further by the emotionally withdrawn patriarch.

It's a very personal story with some moments of levity but otherwise you need a strong stomach for tragedy. It's slow and lingering sorry telling approach lets the audience sit in the misery and the discomfort. But there is reward in watching and it's ultimately quite a beautiful film in its style and in particular it's cinematography.

"Vermiglio," directed by Maura Alpero, feels like a heartbeat of real life-a window into the everyday rhythms of a mountain community in Italy during the waning days of World War II. It's a film that moves forward almost imperceptibly, like the wind brushing against the towering peaks in the background. There's no rush to its narrative, and its beauty lies in this deliberate pace, forcing us to watch, listen, and feel with a patience we rarely muster.

The story of Lucia (Martina Scrinzi) and her family is presented like a fragment of collective memory, an echo of ordinary lives in extraordinary times. Alpero's script, inspired by family stories, captures the simplicity of daily life with an almost ethereal grace. There are no dramatic flourishes or artificial twists; instead, the film leans on meaningful silences, ambient sounds, and subtle interactions to shape its conflicts and affections. The world it builds is tactile and rich with detail, from the chill emanating off the stone walls of the local school to the murmurs of conversations inside the church.

The characters are drawn with delicate precision. Cesare (Tommaso Ragno), the intellectual and idealistic patriarch, is both the family's anchor and a symbol of the patriarchal structure that stifles his daughters' dreams. Adele (Roberta Rovelli), his wife, embodies quiet self-sacrifice, defined almost entirely by the children she has brought into the world. But it's the daughters who carry the film's emotional weight. Flavia (Anna Thaler), with her intelligence and ambition, represents a sliver of hope in a place that suffocates possibility. Ada (Rachele Potrich), introspective and melancholic, reflects someone who feels the weight of her reality without being able to name it. And Lucia, the protagonist, serves as the bridge between conformity and the yearning for something more, her bond with the soldier Pietro (Giuseppe De Domenico) acting as both an emotional awakening and a reminder of the external forces shaping their fates.

Pietro, the deserter whose presence stirs whispers and judgment in the village, is more than just a romantic catalyst. He embodies the contradictions of the historical moment: the urge to flee the horrors of war clashing with the moral condemnation of desertion. His relationship with Lucia, though inevitable, unfolds in a refreshingly unconventional way. The film sidesteps romantic clichés, presenting love not as a grand event but as a collection of moments, glances, and choices-often out of the viewer's sight.

Visually, "Vermiglio" is a moving painting. Mikhail Krichman's cinematography is stunningly elegant, with compositions that invite the eye to linger over every detail. The mountains in the background aren't just scenery-they're a silent character, witnesses to generations who lived, loved, and suffered in their shadow. The near-total absence of a musical score enhances the immersion, replacing it with environmental sounds: wind, footsteps crunching on snow, the creak of wood. This choice underscores the film's authenticity, pulling the audience into a time and place that feels tangible.

There's a profound melancholy in how the film approaches the choices and fates of its characters. The most significant decisions happen off-screen or are conveyed through glances and gestures, mirroring the fragmented nature of memory. These people's lives aren't presented as a complete narrative but as fragments of stories that fade with time, echoing the reality that we can never fully know the pasts of our ancestors.

"Vermiglio" isn't a film for those seeking clear answers or cathartic resolutions. It's an invitation to contemplate, a celebration of the beauty in the simplest details and the complexity of ordinary lives. It demands patience, but for those willing to embrace its rhythm, it offers rare emotional depth and a sense of humanity that transcends time.