PhilSalamone

Uova di garofano frames itself as an adult Silvano reflecting on his youth in the final days of World War II, but the film never gives that perspective the depth it deserved. Despite the retrospective setup, the story unfolds in a largely straightforward way, offering little in the way of hidden meaning, emotional nuance, or thematic weight.

There is little sense of progression or transformation. Silvano does not meaningfully change, nor does the adult perspective provide commentary or recontextualization. The film seems content to document rather than examine, leaving the viewer to search for subtext that never quite materializes. Any potential themes... repression, moral ambiguity, coming of age under authoritarianism, remain underdeveloped.

One genuine strength is the Italian civilian viewpoint of Nazi occupation and Fascist-era institutions. This angle is far less common in post WWII cinema, and the film occasionally hints at the quiet normalization of oppression in everyday life. Unfortunately, these moments are fleeting and never explored with the depth they deserve.

In the end, Uova di garofano feels like a film with ideas but no urgency to pursue them. Its detached, episodic structure may be intentional, but the lack of nuance or payoff makes the experience feel thin. Given its historical setting and autobiographical framing, the film could have been far more impactful. Instead, it remains a muted recollection that never fully justifies its introspection.

While Cyanide kept my attention throughout, I ultimately found it difficult to connect with its central character. Achille, portrayed as a troubled young man grappling with his strong feelings toward his deadbeat father, never quite escapes the shadow of being an intolerable brat. The film clearly wants the audience to sympathize with his struggle and root for his emotional resolution. But several scenes lack focus or are completely irrelevant and undeveloped.

Despite several attempts to peel back Achille's layers, the story never fully delivers on its promise. Instead of gaining insight, I was left with more questions than answers. The film has its moments and maintains enough intrigue to keep you watching, but its emotional payoff feels haphazard and incomplete.

Finding Twarz Aniola with English subtitles was almost a journey of its own. I spent hours digging through versions online, most of them without subtitles, and finally stumbled across a Polish copy. After about twenty attempts, I finally managed to sync an English track well enough to follow the story. In a strange way, that struggle set the tone for the experience: this is not a film that comes to you easily, and maybe it shouldn't.

The movie is based on the real and deeply disturbing events involving the forced labor of children during Nazi-occupied Poland. That historical grounding gives the film an emotional gravity that never lets up. The choice to shoot in black and white isn't just stylistic. The stark contrast mirrors the bleakness of the setting, the moral void of the perpetrators, and the numbing reality of survival in a world stripped of color.

The lead actor deserves particular praise. His performance feels painfully genuine, restrained, human, and completely believable. There's not a moment where it feels like acting; instead, it becomes a lived experience unfolding on screen. That authenticity is part of what makes the film so hard to watch at times. It doesn't sensationalize trauma, but it refuses to soften it, either.

Yes, Twarz aniola is disturbing. But it's also powerful, haunting in the right ways, and crafted with a clarity of purpose. Despite (or because) o of how difficult it is emotionally, it has earned a solid place in my top ten films of all time. It's the kind of film you don't simply watch; you absorb it, wrestle with it, and remember it.