Director/Coscreenwriter: Valerio Mieli
By Marilyn Ferdinand
If you’re a fan of the TV series Bones, Ten Winters is going to seem teasingly familiar. In Bones, a very attractive, brainy forensic anthropologist and her swoonworthy “partner” at the FBI solve murders and ignore their sizzling mutual attraction and growing love because the woman is too afraid of being hurt. It’s all very titillating, but kind of annoying for those who believe that true lovers should be together no matter what.
First-time director Valerio Mieli seems to believe that, too. He shows the instant attraction of Camilla (Isabella Ragonese) and Silvestro (Michele Riondino) and then follows them over the next 10 years to see what will happen to them. It’s an interesting journey.
It is 1999 when Camilla’s father (Roberto Nobile) sees her to the boat that will ferry her from the main island of Venice to one of the outer islands, where she is going to college to study Russian literature and theatre. He warns her not to spend all her time alone, to make friends, but to be careful about whom those friends are, thus letting us know that she is a serious student and a bit of a loner. After absorbing this slightly confused, but loving message and with backpack and floor lamp (“it gives good light”) in hand, she boards the boat. She spots through the throng of passengers a young man—Silvestro—who is entertaining a small boy with a leafless, decorated tree. She is immediately attracted to him and rather boldly makes him aware of her gaze. Eventually, the two are alone with their large, awkward cargo on the boat. He follows her off the boat and worms his way not only into her unheated rental home, but also into her bed—for warmth only, as the bedroom is the only room with a space heater. They shake hands and introduce themselves while laying side by side.
They part the next day, and Silvestro hooks up with some college students. While they are out flying a kite, Camilla appears and waves tentatively. “Do you know her?” asks Simone (Glen Backhall). “Vaguely,” answers Silvestro, who refuses to go over to her. “She can come to me,” but she doesn’t. Silvestro, besides coming on very strong, is rather a sarcastic clown, joking with her in ways that made her feel teased and belittled. He’s too young emotionally for an intimidating girl like her, though they begin to move in the same circle of friends. When Silvestro takes up with Liuba (Liuba Zaizeva) a pretty Russian girl who is studying to be an interpreter, Camilla is crushed.
As the decade passes, Camilla and Silvestro’s lives start to take shape. After basically admitting to Camilla during their first meeting that he has no idea what he plans to do with himself, Silvestro finally decides to pursue a career in theatre. Camilla moves to Moscow “to concentrate” on her studies, but develops a thriving e-mail friendship with Silvestro while quickly getting involved with a theatre company and its director, Fyodor (Sergei Zhigunov). Silvestro, misinterpreting her intimacy online, accepts her invitation to visit over Christmas, bringing a cat she says she misses from the rented house he now occupies and returning to Italy the minute he learns she is living with Fyodor. The couple will go through more relationships and more painful growing experiences before they are finally ready to open their hearts and lives to each other.
Italy is famous the world over as a country of love, with Venice hailed as its most romantic city. Yet, Mieli’s romance is more realistic, just as his Venice is shot without the dubious benefit of the usual clichés. We see it in winter, we see it in the rain, we see housing that is anything but charming. When Fyodor offers Camilla a gondola ride, she says, “Oh, please!” at the absurdity of the idea to a native Venetian like herself. The majority of the film doesn’t even take place in the Venice tourists know, but on an island away from that kind of action. These characters get to be real people instead of the Latin lovers audiences have been led to expect from works that stretch even farther back than film, for example, the operas of Puccini and Rossini or Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. And yet, Mieli and his cinematographer Marco Onorato film with a dreamy sort of atmosphere that fits the story well. The wet, soft winters of Venice contrast with the crisp, snowy winters of Moscow, but both have a bit of enchantment to them that develops a sense of longing.
Although Mieli’s real-life partner Isabella Aguilar cowrote the script, there is a slightly more concentrated focus on Silvestro and his pangs of frustration. Perhaps this is due to the differences in the characters, with Camilla being the first to be lovestruck and disappointed and using her overdeveloped ability to shut people out and intellectualize to remain distant from Silvestro. This imbalance of visible feelings does rather make it harder to understand Camilla and feel with her in her happiness and pain, though Ragonese’s performance has a great many shades to it that are never less than interesting. Riondino matches her in complexity and sincerity; his painful outbursts, and declaration of love in a scene I found extremely moving, showed a believable ardency and anger. They are a magnetic couple to watch, and there’s never a moment when we don’t root for them to find happiness together; in fact, we wonder what is wrong with this woman to keep running away from her destiny.
Ironically, that expectation weakened the film for me. The title cards inserted periodically to let us know that another year or two has passed amount to a countdown to the final clinch, making the romance less organic and more schematic. There were moments when it seemed very likely that this couple would be parted forever, and those moments should have created more doubt than they did. And perhaps that is not Mieli’s fault, but the fault of too many predictable love stories turning audiences into Pavlovian lapdogs of romantic expectation.
There are some wonderful set-pieces that show how much Camilla and Silvestro share over the course of 10 years; thus, their love feels real and earned. For example, Silvestro follows a nervous Camilla out at the crack of dawn to half-listen to her practice her dissertation defense in an empty square and then sits through her exhausting oral examination in an act of pure friendship and devotion. Camilla, admiring snails Silvestro is raising and accepting a box of them as pets, shows an enthusiasm for something his other friends only laugh at.
The CIFF is offering some uncommonly smart love stories this year. If you tamp down your “get together already” impatience and just appreciate the beauty and rhythms of this warm and real love story, the rewards, barely hinted at in this review, are many.
Ten Winters will screen Saturday, October 9, 1:15 p.m., Monday, October 18, 5:30 p.m., and Tuesday, October 19, 8:15 p.m. All screenings take place at the AMC River East 21 Theatres, 322 E. Illinois St.
Previous CIFF coverage
Certified Copy: Elliptical tale of seduction by renowned director Abbas Kiarostami in which two strangers pretend to be a married couple in crisis. (Iran/Italy/France)
The Princess of Montpensier: The French Catholic persecution of Protestants forms the backdrop for this period drama about the travails suffered by a beautiful noblewoman desired by four men. (France/Germany)
Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff: Legendary British cinematographer Jack Cardiff and others who knew him discuss his career, including such highlights as The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus. (UK)
Waste Land: A moving examination of the positive transformation of workers in Brazil’s largest landfill when artist Vik Muniz comes to photograph them. (Brazil/USA)
Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives: This 2010 Palme d’Or winner chronicles the final days of Boonmee using magic realism and experimental techniques to explore universal myths and symbols. (Thailand)
The Last Report on Anna: A dreamy, romantic film centering on Anna Kéthly, real-life Hungarian minister in exile, and a spy’s attempt to silence her by seducing her into returning to their communist-controlled country. (Hungary)