Vermiglio

Told in four chapters, each set in a different season, Maura Delpero’s stunningly beautiful and powerful new film takes us into the world of a remote Italian mountain village. It is nearing the end of the Second World War, something that has not really touched this place at all — until now.

A young Sicilian soldier named Pietro has carried his injured comrade Attilio all the way back to his mountain home, much of the journey with his passenger on his back. Hailed as a hero, Pietro is furnished with the best the village can provide. As a rare newcomer (and a Sicilian, so an exotic stranger), Pietro is much gossiped about but keeps to himself. He catches the eye of Lucia (Martina Scrinzi), the eldest daughter of the stern village schoolteacher (Tommaso Ragno), and soon the two are gently flirting and falling in love. This seemingly simple pairing of two young hearts sets off a sweeping series of events that shakes the village and a small town in Sicily, uncapping age-old misogyny, intolerance, and narrowness with tragic results.

Vermiglio is deeply moving from a narrative standpoint, but also a treat for the eye, as every scene is composed as a sonnet, beautifully photographed and filled with emotion as Delpero understands stillness like few other contemporary directors. Ultimately, it’s a story about women trapped in ancient traditional roles, who must bear the burden of men’s mistakes with no recourse of their own.

JANE SCHOETTLE

Content advisory: sexually suggestive scenes