The Last One for the Road (Le città di pianura)

 

Director Francesco Sossai

Sossai on the set with Sergio Romano

THE LAST ONE FOR THE ROAD (Le città di pianura)                 B                                            Italy  Germany  (100 mi)  2025  d: Francesco Sossai

We’re too old to grow up.                                                                                                               —Doriano (Pierpaolo Capovillo)

Old geezers on parade, a zany road trip featuring the misadventures of two fiftyish small-time Italian crooks, best friends Carlobianci (Sergio Romano) and Doriano (musician and singer-songwriter Pierpaolo Capovillo), who obsessively live for their next drink, stopping at any roadside tavern along the way, bound by their proverbial ritual of always seeking that one final drink, literally spending their lives completely inebriated, where this is their normalized state of mind, kind of like a Charles Bukowski fever dream.  A bizarre, dialogue-heavy character study written by Sossai and Adriano Candiago, it resembles the comic absurdity of Vladimir and Estragon in Waiting for Godot, two colorful characters who are oblivious to the changing times, passing their time in endless existential conversations and philosophical musings, where not much of anything happens.  These unwitting millennials were born during a time of intense economic growth, but entered the workforce during the devastating 2008 Great Recession, the worst downturn since the Great Depression, later facing the Covid pandemic during their prime earning years, and are sometimes called a new “Lost Generation” because these historic economic shocks left them with massive debt, lower wealth accumulation, and delayed major life milestones compared to previous generations, now subsisting on memories, forever recalling their glory days as if it was just yesterday, raising their glass, claiming “it’s still yesterday for us.”  Shot by Massimiliano Kuveiller on Super 16mm and 35mm film stock, with an incredibly raw and crude sounding guitar soundtrack that was composed by local musician Krano, who is seen live onstage at one point, sounding as ragged as anything you could ever imagine.  Premiering at the Un Certain Regard section at Cannes 2025, Francesco Sossai was born in the area depicted in the film, forever changed by globalization, so he understands it intrinsically, making short films at an early age, moving to Rome where he graduated in English and German Literatures before being admitted to the German Television Film Academy in Berlin (DFFB).  Like outtakes from an Aki Kaurismäki hangout movie, with no real story to speak of, portraying a side of Italy that is not often shown, freely exploring the road not taken, this is a raw and seemingly unrehearsed odyssey of aging boozers and ruined romantics, driven to rediscover all their old favorite hangouts to eat and drink, which still linger in their imaginations, yet never seem to live up to their expectations, following their spontaneous journey from bar to bar.

An aimless and meandering film about middle-aged male disillusionment and the time we’ve lost, and the time that has been wasted, literally stumbling from place to place, where the lives of these anti-heroes have been filled with plenty of regrets, as they once had a thriving construction business, building a highway that links Lisbon through Treviso to Budapest, but since 2008 they’ve long since lost their jobs and become black market scam artists, swindlers, and petty thieves, continually coming up with ways to make something out of nothing, yet riding in style, as Carlobianci splurged on a Jaguar S-Type luxury vehicle when they were flush with cash, money that is long gone, yet they continue to cherish those memories as they now face the impending mediocrity of middle age.  In a flash, Carlobianci seems to have unlocked the secret of life, literally beaming with joy, but just as quicky it is instantly forgotten, spending the rest of the film trying to remember as they wander through these massive transformations, both cultural and physical, that the landscape is going through, making it nearly unrecognizable to how we remember it, completely altering our idea of identity.  At one stop along the way in the wee hours of the night, they notice something strange about what they’re drinking, disappointed to discover it is non-alcoholic beer, thinking that doesn’t really count, concocting a plan to pick up their exiled partner in crime Genio at the airport in Venice, returning to Italy after fleeing to Argentina before the 2008 financial crisis, feeling giddy about the idea, driving through the night to get there, LE CITTÀ DI PIANURA by Francesco SOSSAI - Clip 1 YouTube (1:33).  Stopping at a roadside Country & Western bar, our protagonists comment that they may as well be in America as men and women in cowboy hats are doing some line dancing.  A German tourist at the bar mentions that he’s there to see Italy before it’s destroyed, with Carlobianchi uttering, “I think you’re too late.”  Continuing on their trek, the Venetian bar they were pursuing is somehow closed, but opportunity knocks, as they stumble upon a boisterous group of college students loudly celebrating a graduation on the streets, easily joining in the festivities, asking where they can get a drink, and immediately the entire group shifts to a nearby local bar, but before they do, our guys happen to witness a conversation between the shy, reserved, and lovestruck architectural student Giulio (Filippo Scotti, the star of Paolo Sorrentino’s 2021 The Hand of God (È stata la mano di Dio), and the girl of his dreams, Giulia (Giulia Bertasi), claiming he needs to go home as he has a design exam early in the morning, indicating they’ll meet another time, but she declares, “There’s never another time.” 

Seemingly innocuous and harmless, this expression is a key to unlocking the film, with Carlobianci repeating the phrase to him as they drag him to the party.  With that seemingly innocent gesture, the bookish Giulio suddenly becomes the third wheel to our road trip adventure, initially quiet and  standoffish, wondering how he got railroaded into this terrible idea, but he soon forgets his morning appointment and warms to their all-embracing, anything goes style, becoming something of a free for all as they travel across a stretch of land running from Venice to Milan called the Pianura, or the flatlands of Veneto, once the beating heart of the Italian economy, but now fallen on hard times with industry and economic growth abandoning the region, seemingly transformed overnight, as globalization has led to a near-complete uniformity, creating a stifling homogeneity.  Carlobianchi is a man consumed by regrets, feeling as though time has passed him by, haunted by the choices he's made.  Doriano has already come to terms with his past, offering a quiet wisdom that Carlobianchi could only hope for, while the sweetly charming Giulio is just embarking on his own journey of self-discovery, with our heroes continually encouraging him to build up his courage and go after the girl.  Somehow the three of them explore things that matter in their own distinct way, continually wandering off course, finding trivialities and small everyday moments, yet always searching for hidden meaning in their lives.  When they do finally connect with Genio (Andrea Pennacchi), pinning their hopes on cash he buried before the financial crisis, they’re stymied once again, as modernization has constructed a building over the site, leaving them thoroughly demoralized.  Capturing the beauty of the end of an era while mostly drunk or hungover, this is a different kind of movie, recalling Dino Risi’s IL SORPASSO (1962), but less tragic, reviving the Commedia all'italiana style through the Dionysian spirit, filled with unexpected turns and strange realizations, like the sudden shift to Giulio’s point of view on a trip to Treviso for the post-modernist Brion Memorial designed by Carlo Scarpa, with its heavily concrete forms, viewed through the academically informed eyes of Giulio, bonded by their friendship as an emotional anchor, offering a different vision of the future, unfolding in a melancholy road movie that never really leads anywhere, LE CITTÀ DI PIANURA by Francesco SOSSAI - Clip 2 YouTube (1:16).  Through sad and jubilant moments, there is never a sense of the profound, as the journey blends humor with matters of the heart, balancing the light and the heavy in a way that draws the audience deep into the characters’ lives, where it’s not places, or monuments, or things that represent a country, but the people living in it, offering an intimate exploration of human connection, forgiveness, and hope.

Motel Destino

Futuro Beach

 

Director Karim Aïnouz

director on the set

MOTEL DESTINO                B                                                                                            Brazil  France  Germany  Great Britain  (115 mi)  2024  d: Karim Aïnouz

Returning to Brazil in the post-Bolsonaro era after stints in Germany, Great Britain, and Algeria, queer Brazilian-Algerian director Karim Aïnouz drew inspiration for this film from a tradition of Brazilian cinema, the pornographic comedy (Pornochanchada), a very popular genre in the 70’s that had a distinct focus on the female anatomy, a lurid distraction from the brutal tactics of the oppressive Brazilian military dictatorship, giving rise to iconic actress Sônia Braga, who was the epitome of Brazilian films during the 70’s.  With films like Bruno Barreto’s sexually explicit yet comically lighthearted Doña Flor and Her Two Husbands (Doña Flor e Seus Dois Maridos) (1976), or Arnaldo Jabor’s I LOVE YOU (Eu Ye Amo) (1981), there were also the extremely popular Carlos Diegues films XICA (1976) and Bye Bye Brazil (Bye Bye Brasil) (1980), all films that rejoice in a liberated spirit while displaying a healthy attitude towards nudity and sex.  Working as assistant director to Todd Haynes in New York and Walter Salles in Rio de Janeiro, Aïnouz has made films with a distinct and innovative vision that transcends formal boundaries, where his first feature MADAME SATÃ (2002) was a trailblazing portrayal of a real-life black queer female impersonator and prolific street fighter, described by Film Quarterly as “a classic of queer cinema…well ahead of its time,” which was followed by The Silver Cliff (O Abismo Prateado) (2011), Futuro Beach (Praia do Futuro) (2014), and 2019 Top Ten List #4 Invisible Life (A Vida Invisível), works that range from experimental queer cinema to complex character studies and poetic explorations of family origins.  A Brazilian tropical neo-noir premiering at Cannes that’s defiantly sexy, sweaty, and dripping with spontaneous energy, this film recreates space in an innovative way, as the vibrantly seductive, neon-colored cinematography by Hélène Louvart, who has shot some of the more visually distinctive works, is nothing less than inspired, shot on 16mm and Super 8mm, making the stunning visuals the strongest asset of the film, creating a subterranean, crime-drenched atmosphere that seems to exist in its own lurid world, allowing viewers to bathe in the brightness of the oversaturated colors and lighting.  The sleazy sex motel setting of the film is like a central character, where the suffocating intimacy of desire is a prominent theme, questioning whether the marginalized characters are driven by their own circumstance or controlled by a fate they can’t escape, perhaps a reminder of the days of repression when people were forced to take refuge in the shadows of secretive places like this.

Written by Aïnouz with Wislan Esmeraldo and Mauricio Zacharias during the presidency of right-wing populist Jair Bolsonaro, this is set in Fortaleza, the site of Futuro Beach on the sunny ocean shores of Northeast Brazil, where hanging out at the beach is a foregone conclusion, as the blueness of the sea against the white sand always looks so inviting.  It’s there that we find beads of water and sweat glistening against the black skin of 21-year old Heraldo (Iago Xavier) and his older brother Jorge (Renan Capivara) frolicking in the waves, like little kids.  When Heraldo announces he wants to get out of town to look for work in São Paulo and start a new life, you might wonder why anyone would leave this idyllic paradise, but things are not what they seem, as the two brothers work for a crime boss Bambina (Fabiola Liper), who wants his debts paid before he leaves, so she orders them to pull off one last debt-collection job.  Seeking refuge in a local beach bar the night before, Heraldo finds himself charmed by a beautiful stranger (Isabela Catão), quickly making their way to a brightly-lit roadside sex motel, Motel Destino, that never closes and rents by the hour or even half-hour, only to discover he’s overslept (likely sedated) and been ripped off by the young woman, leaving him in a spot, scrambling to get to his brother, but he arrives too late, as Jorge was forced to carry off the job alone, leaving him shot and killed.  Having nowhere else to go, suddenly finding himself a fugitive needing to lay low for fear of retribution, he returns back to the Motel to hide out, curiously allowed entry by the owner’s wife Dayana (Nataly Rocha), who is intrigued to see him again after the desperate situation he found himself in earlier.  The volatile ex-cop owner Elias, (Fábio Assunção, a former soap opera heartthrob), finds work for him to do around the place, and the film essentially revolves around this single location, which is a seedy world of sex and pleasure, a sinner’s paradise, accompanied by huge amounts of alcohol consumption.  Heraldo proves himself a worthy handyman, easily fixing things that are broken, quickly gaining the confidence of Elias, with suggestions of homoeroticism.  One of the things that’s interesting is that the characters are dressed in little more than bathing suits for most of the film, implying comfort, ease, and relaxation, with plenty of nudity and sex, yet remains shrouded in moral ambiguity, where there’s also a relentless foreboding layer of danger that hovers over everything we see, with suspense building quietly, suggesting these seemingly disparate lives are somehow intertwined.

As if stuck in a state of inertia, where not much actually happens (viewers may drift off as well), a dangerous love triangle quickly escalates into an erotic thriller, yet this is mostly a lingering human relationships film that delves into the unsettling aspects of the characters, with Heraldo having a steamy affair with Dayana, who assumes the sultry Sônia Braga role, as we’re mostly confined to cramped quarters, long empty hallways or back rooms away from the prying eyes of Elias.  Perhaps it’s their situation of always living in the secrecy of isolation, where emotions are heightened, but a threatening danger is always hovering nearby, especially given the sexual voyeuristic effect of the Motel, with Elias frequently peering through the peepholes attached to each room, and the film’s abundant use of neon lights and surveillance footage, creating a saturated color palette, accompanied by the ambient sounds of moans and screams coming out of those rooms, along with an intentional use of outdoor animals who can also be seen fornicating.  The interior spaces of the Motel can be seen in quite literally a new light, where a sensory landscape blurs the boundaries between what’s real and imagined, as the film is primarily about depicting its characters’ insatiable desires, whether they be sexual or vengeful, with an electronic and techno-fused soundtrack composed by Amine Bouhafa and Benedikt Schiefer adding another layer of sensory overload.  Things quickly spill out of control when the oddly charismatic Elias celebrates his birthday with an alcohol-fused party sequence of the three of them together, but by then the frustrated Dayana has grown sick and tired of his violent and abusively domineering ways, pretending to placate his continually fluctuating moods by telling him what he wants to hear while secretly having eyes for Heraldo, both planning to escape together, where the dubious thought of killing Elias crosses their minds in an ode to Tay Garnett’s classic film noir The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), but this plays out differently, more like a surrealistic dreamscape, spilling into a fever dream of emotional chaos and dread, where only fate can free them, building to a heavy synth-infused, strobe-aligned, electronic pulse rave conclusion with flashing lights that blast over the end credits.  One of the director’s comments was that this was specifically designed for the Cannes Film Festival theater screening, “It’s such a conservative space with people dressed up.  I wanted [the end credits] to burn down the Lumière!  There’s a sense of seriousness that’s so important to break.”