Cast: Nanni Moretti, Laura Morante, Jasmine Trinca, Giuseppe Sanfelice, Sofia Vigliar
Director: Nanni Moretti
Producers: Angelo Barbagallo, Nanni Moretti
Screenplay: Nanni Moretti
Cinematography: Giuseppe Lanci
Music: Nicola Piovani
U.S. Distributor: Miramax Films
In Italian with subtitles
Note to readers: this review contains spoilers. A key event that occurs about one-third of the way through the movie is discussed in some detail; those who wish to have a "virgin" movie experience would be best served by reading this review after seeing the film.
The average, mainstream American feature deals with grief by employing a mixture of histrionics and melodramatic manipulation. In order to find a motion picture that offers a sensitive, intelligent examination of grief and the guilt that often accompanies it, one has to look beyond the multiplexes, to the realm of foreign and independent movies. The past 12 months have seen the release of three excellent features in this arena: the French Under the Sand, in which a woman must cope with the unexpected disappearance of her husband; the American In the Bedroom, where a tragedy undermines a seemingly impervious marriage; and the Italian The Son's Room, which depicts the emotional devastation that can be wrought by an accidental death.
The Son's Room, winner of the Palm D'Or at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival, is the latest film from celebrated Italian director Nanni Moretti, who, at one time during his career, was known at the "Italian Woody Allen". Although he shed that moniker early last decade, Moretti still shares traits with Manhattan's best-known filmmaker. Like Allen, Moretti writes, produces, and stars in his movies, which often feature autobiographical threads and mix humor and pathos. The Son's Room is a departure for Moretti in many ways. It is a more straightforward drama than his other work, it is not filmed in Rome, and Moretti's character lacks the numerous neuroses that he has become known for.
The film introduces us to something very rare: a happy, well-balanced family without a hint of dysfunction. Giovanni (Moretti) is a psychiatrist who practices out of his home. He has a loving relationship with his wife, Paola (Laura Morante), and is liked and respected by his two teenage children: son Andrea (Giuseppe Sanfelice) and daughter Irene (Jasmine Trinca). For about 30 minutes, Moretti carefully develops a picture of familial bliss, keeping us uncertain where the film is going until the tragedy occurs. Once that happens, the movie moves along a more somber trajectory. Andrea dies in a diving accident, and his grieving family is left trying to pick up the pieces.
When an older person dies, the emotions are predictable: sadness and perhaps regret. But, when someone young and vital suddenly and unexpectedly perishes, those emotions are blended with other, more volcanic ones: guilt and anger. Those who are close to the victim often feel that an action (or lack of action) on their part might have prevented the death. Such is the case with Giovanni, who believes that if he had not seen a patient on the Sunday morning when Andrea died, things might have turned out differently. From a neutral perspective, it's easy to see that such self-recrimination is ludicrous, but Moretti does an excellent job of getting us to understand Giovanni's mindset.
One of the most poignant experiences associated with the death of a loved one is confronting their empty "personal space" - a bedroom, a study, or a bathroom. Everything is as they left it - a still-damp toothbrush, dirty clothes in the hamper, a book half-finished. Like In the Bedroom, The Son's Room makes effective use of a parent's venture into the dead child's inner sanctum. At no time are the emotions stronger than when confronting the relics of someone who has just died. Moretti captures the heart-wrenching surge of emptiness that this experience begets.
For the most part, The Son's Room stands as a powerful portrait of what real (as opposed to Hollywood) families go through in the wake of the loss of one of their members. There's nothing out-of-the-ordinary about Giovanni, Paola, or Irene. The difficulties they have coping with Andrea's death are easy to empathize with. The storyline introduces one minor surprise after Andrea's death when a letter in the mail reveals that Andrea had a long-distance girlfriend his parents didn't know about. This, of course, reminds us that the dead have no secrets.
If the film has a minor weakness, it's that an outside presence is needed to bring about the necessary catharsis. It's not exactly a contrivance, but it feels less natural than all that precedes it. Moretti, perhaps aware of this flaw, provides enough of a justification in the script for us to accept things as they are. In all other areas, however, this is a superior motion picture - an example of the pleasant surprise that can result when a skilled director departs from his usual style. By daring to be honest and unsparing, The Son's Room is meaningful.
© 2002 James Berardinelli