SWEET DREAMS (Fai
bei sogni) C+
Italy France (134 mi) 2016 ‘Scope
d: Marco Bellocchio
Far more important than what we know or
do not know is what we do not want to know.
—Eric Hoffer,
introductory remarks to the book
On New Year’s eve, like every year, I
called on my godmother to take her to see Mum.
My godmother is a piece of antique
furniture in a very good state of conservation. She lives on her own in a house
filled with sunlight, where she spends her time reading detective novels and
chatting to the framed photographs of her husband. Occasionally she changes
shelf and talks to the photograph of Mum, mostly about me.
I imagine she omits the more unwelcome
news. Such as the fact I’ve had two wives – though not, it’s true, at the same
time.
And that I never did become a lawyer.
While I was helping her into her coat,
she brought up the subject of the novel I had given her for Christmas.
“I finished it last night.”
“Did you enjoy it? It’s not a detective
novel.”
“Of course I did: you wrote it.”
“And the passages about Mum?”
“That’s the part I wanted to talk to you
about.”
“It’s the only part which is
autobiographical. I put a bit of the story of my own life into those pages.”
“Are you sure it’s your story?”
“And why wouldn’t it be?”
“It wasn’t exactly like that... I want to
give you something, dear.”
I watched her fumble with dwarf-sized
keys at the drawers of the bureau. Her lovely, gnarled old hands drew out a
brown envelope. She handed it to me with a quivering voice: “After forty years,
it’s time that someone told you the truth.”
—Sweet Dreams, Little One, opening
excerpt, written by Massimo Gramellini, 2012
From a director
who has made films from radical Marxism, teenage rebellion, religious
institutions, to political subversion, now he explores the mother complex, as this
is a fairly conventional story told in an unconventional manner, moving back
and forth from various places and times, reflecting how a man remains haunted
by the mysterious death of his mother well into middle age, even though it occurred
in an early period in his life. Shamelessly
sentimental and narratively slight throughout, yet with a few startling moments
of humor and unrestrained energy, in a film where these few exquisite moments
are all too rare, though nearly every one is associated with music, shot by Daniele
Ciprì, where it curiously has a gloomy, sepia-toned look of washed-out color
that immediately offers a somber tone that takes the joy right out of this
picture. Adapted from the 2012 novel Sweet Dreams, Little One by Massimo
Gramellini, current deputy editor at La
Stampa, an Italian daily newspaper published in Turin, one of the oldest
newspapers in Italy where he runs a daily front page column, the film is told
in non-chronological order through flashbacks recalling various lifelong
memories, like a memoir, where each is given a larger-than-life recreation,
though it has a bit of an embellished, fairy tale feel throughout. Whether by Paolo Sorrentino or now Bellocchio,
the central figure in these Italian movies tends to be a successful though emotionally
damaged and largely unfulfilled male protagonist who fits the template of
Marcello Mastroianni in Fellini’s LA DOLCE VITA (1960), who was a highly
popular journalist writing for gossip magazines. In this film, Massimo (Valerio Mastrandrea)
is a popular and highly successful sports journalist who also covers the war in
Sarajevo, yet he’s scarred by the childhood loss of his mother at the age of
nine. Quickly flashing back to childhood
in 1969, with little Massimo played by Nicolò Cabras and his mother Barbara
Ronchi, he has an idyllic childhood that he recalls in his own perfect way,
singing a love song to him, Fai Bei Sogni - Scena: Resta Cu'mme
YouTube (1:17), until his mother unexpectedly dies from a reported heart
attack, yet he refuses to believe she is dead, expecting her to return at any
given moment, where in his mind she is simply irreplaceable, linking the music
of his childhood past to his present, where David Richard Mindel’s Twist Night evolves into The Trashmen’s Surfin’ Bird, Fai Bei Sogni Clip1 -
YouTube (1:03).
The film title
comes from the last words his mother spoke to him as she tucked him into bed
that night, only to be vaguely informed what happened afterwards by his father
(Guido Caprino), who lacks the warm affection and maternal charm of his mother,
leaving Massimo in a state of delusion and emotional repression
afterwards. From the innocent pleasure
of playing hide and seek with his mother and sharing a love for watching
late-night horror movies, including clips of the wildly popular 1965 French
miniseries Belphégor, where he’d hold
onto her for protection and cuddle close together under the blanket, not to
mention the dizzying television appearances of Raffaella Carrà, the
first female television personality to show her belly button on camera, 1971
- Canzonissima Chissà se va - Video Dailymotion (3:00), yet it was also an
era of rowdy soccer crowds, where his father was a rabid fan of the Torino FC
which played near their home. But Italy
unraveled in the 1970’s, an era of political extremism and the Red Brigades, a paramilitary
organization involved with robberies, kidnappings and assassinations. As a young teen, Massimo continues to lie
about his mother, claiming she lives in New York, despite the intervention of a
priest who informs him he must acknowledge the truth. He develops a friendship with an extremely
wealthy fellow student, Enrico (Dylan Ferrarrio), inviting him home to his
immense mansion, the kind only seen in the movies, where Massimo can’t take his
eyes off his nurturing yet indulgently overprotective mother, Emmanuelle
Devos. As a young man, he gets a job as
a sports journalist, but remains in a state or arrested development, aloof and
distant from others, never sustaining relationships, catching a break by being
on the site of a major breaking news story.
He’s sent to Sarajevo as a war correspondent, but shows a callous
disregard for the people he’s covering, blatantly embellishing the photographs
of victims and cynically staging them to make a name for himself. When his father dies, he returns to his
childhood home and combs through his parent’s belongings, with past memories
flooding his head, along with a sense of grief that continues to torment
him.
In Turin, his
editor asks Massimo to write a response to a letter from a reader who literally
hates his domineering mother, as the regular columnist quits after suggesting
to his coworkers that he simply put a gun to his head, refusing to spend any
more time on it, as the man is hopeless.
Of course Massimo rises to the occasion, plumbing the depths of his
soul, and prints out a column that catches the attention of the entire nation,
receiving tons of letters in response, where special machinery is used to
transport it all from the Post Office, becoming a rock star of columnists,
where he is rewarded with his own daily column.
This kind of universal acknowledgment is rare, and honestly, Massimo
isn’t sure he deserves it. The turning
point of the film is an unexpected panic attack, where Massimo feels he’s about
to die from a heart attack, perhaps mirroring what happened to his mother, where
he calls the hospital emergency room for assistance, speaking to Dr. Elisa (Bérénice
Bejo), a young French doctor working in Italy, a calmly assured voice that
walks him through his anxiety, miraculously calming him down. He introduces himself at the hospital the
next day, showing appreciation for her expertise, where she exudes the same
kind of genuine warmth and affection as his mother, where her eyes are alert
and alive, a light in an otherwise darkened crowd, where he can’t get enough of
her. Neither can the audience, as it’s
as if she’s from another film, a positive delight in an otherwise overly grim
view of a man that continually feels sorry for himself, still demoralized and emotionally
scarred from childhood events that he simply can’t come to terms with, where he
confesses to her the power of an invisible companion that’s never left his side
since childhood, the dark presence of Belphégor, who was like a heavy burden on
his back, always weighing him down, a force that feeds on “my doubts and fears:
mistrust, rejection, abandonment.” As if she has the power to reach into his
damaged soul, Elisa’s kind-heartedness works miracles, inviting him to a family
anniversary party where after initial refusals, he’s a hit on the dance floor
in a showy scene that people will talk about afterwards, for it’s as if his
very last breath has been resuscitated. After
writing his first book, there’s an intriguing scene at the end, beautifully
acted by his godmother (Arianna Scommegna), who tells him, “After forty years,
it’s time that someone told you the truth.”
No longer protected by the innocence of youth, or invisible demons, or
various turns in his life where fantasy and reality get mixed up in the
confusion, the story of his mother’s death is different than what he had been
told, but only now is he in a position to accept it.
