Dir. Tizza Covi and Rainer Frimmel
(Italy and Austria, 2009)
In this codirection-coproduction, Tizza Covi and Rainer Frimmel have created an unusual film that lacks conventional action, but brings a fringe world to international attention. The setting is minor circus folk living in trailers, shacks, and tents adjacent to tenement housing on Rome’s outskirts. Ugly fencing seals off their primitive, muddy housing from the shabby high-rise apartments whose natural surroundings are uncared for and littered with trash.
A hand-held camera follows sixtyish Patti (Patrizia Gerardi) as she traverses the rough grass in rainy weather calling for her dog Ercole (Hercules). Her hair is clown-red and her face is worn from smoking. On her way home without the dog she finds an adorable two-year-old girl abandoned on a swing in a play area. She waits with the child for the mother to return. The audience knows immediately that the film’s premise has been established.
After an hour or so, with darkness coming on, it’s clear that little Aia’s mother is not going to return. Back at Patti's house, undressing the child, Patti finds a note from the mother saying she’s desperate and will return in a few days for her daughter. Patti’s husband Walter (Walter Saabel) wants to call the police to avoid being arrested for kidnapping, but Patti’s heart goes out to the child, and she insists on keeping it until the mother returns, as promised in the note. She goes to a neighboring shack to enlist the help of Tairo (Tairo Caroli), a fourteen-year-old boy, who becomes the little girl’s surrogate brother. Aia’s mother does not return as promised—weeks go by. These weeks form the body of the movie and show us low-key things that have larger importance. First of all, we get an inside picture of these “social pariahs” whose makeshift dwellings the city would like to raze. The closely knit families prove themselves civilized and kind-hearted; their moral code is staunch. In a way, they are too nice, without conflict or negative human emotions, which isn’t natural. But the film’s point is to breakdown a stereotype, educate viewers about a fringe culture that is just as worthy as any other social stratum; in fact, as a whole, these individuals demonstrate more values and loving kindness than often seen in the more educated world, where power and wealth lead to corruption, indifference, and inhumanity. At times the filmmakers’ intent is too transparent, as when Tairo teaches Aia about saying please and thank you. Or, later when the issue of household electricity comes up.
Although La Pivellina shines with attributes, too many scenes of the caretakers playing with Aia (Asia Crippa) lead to ennui. Indeed these scenes show us lower-end circus home life and culture—young Tairo cooking potatoes for Aia in his grandmother’s spotless kitchen, everyday garden play, a meal at a pizzeria, a day-trip to the beach. On one occasion, as Patti does her morning errands she spots a perfect green outfit for Aia, and like a real mother who can’t resist seeing her baby in something so beautiful, she hands over €40 to buy the suit, no small sum for their struggling family. Green dominates Aia’s dress code while living with Patti. Her original candy-pink jacket gets tossed for a less obtrusive green one. Pivello means greenhorn, or newcomer to a culture and customs. Pivellina means little greenhorn.
To demonstrate the worthiness of the fringe circus community, we see Patti urging Tairo to learn his lessons—including taking him to a wax museum to see the historic figures he’s been studying. The protagonists have a work ethic even though they live from hand to mouth. We see Patti and Walter set up their tiny show in a desolate, low-income neighborhood, but nobody comes. Nevertheless, we the film audience are treated to Patti in action, when Walter whips four knives at her that hit the board behind her. Her reflexes to avoid the knives are instantaneous, wonderful--so is her alive face; from this scene we know more about her. Yet, nothing irks or perturbs these people (except when the dog escaped in the opening scenes); attracting no onlookers, they give up on the show and pack up the van with no sign of frustration.
There’s no soundtrack—everything is natural, real life. The actors are playing themselves, using their real-life names. A few perks dot the long wait for Aia’s mother to return: Walter teaches Tairo how to defend himself with his fists, but following a strict moral code that includes never hitting when the opponent is down, and never kicking. In another scene, Tairo and his girlfriend sit on a park bench, and their inexperienced teenage exchange results in Tairo saying he’s breaking up with her. Never an angry word or facial expression reveals the climax of this moment. The scene is hilarious for its originality and veracity. We also see Tairo at a somewhat larger circus, where his father works with the lions. Sometimes, very little besides “a day in the life of” connects the scenes. One memorable moment is when the likable Walter, who is German, jokes to his wife: “Never forget that it takes ten Italians to make one German.”
No words are wasted. When the characters speak, there’s a reason for it. At times, meaningful exchanges take place about feelings, such as Tairo and Patti’s talk on childhood and what constitutes a happy childhood. When a neighbor laments having no electricity, Patti says it’s the city’s way of forcing them out. The insertion of this scene is a bit heavy-handed, as if included only to make a political statement; but the audience accepts it because of the film’s objective of creating understanding for a valid but denigrated segment of society.
The family goes all out for Aia. The audience sees that the child’s welfare is better off with the shack-people than with the absent mother who is likely a prostitute. Toward the end of the movie, Patti receives a letter from the mother announcing her return date. Our suspicions are confirmed that the mother knew of Patti, saw her in the park looking for her dog, and timed abandoning her daughter on the swing to Patti’s isolated presence in the park. Now the mother has written a letter to Patti, who mutters “dirty bitch” upon reading it. In the final scenes that follow, very little is said about parting with Aia, but everything is felt—both for the adoptive family and for the audience. Whereas Aia cried for “Mamma” at the beginning of the movie, she now says “No,” to Mamma and “Yes” to Patti.
We wait with the family at Aia’s farewell party for her mother to arrive. Just as in the playground scene at the film’s opening, hours pass, dusk comes on, and we are still waiting; the mother has not returned.
For screening times visit the San Francisco International Film Festival http://fest10.sffs.org
© 2010 Gail Spilsbury, all rights reserved
Photo: www.sffs.org
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