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.

Tender Mercies

 

Palmer, Texas

farmhouse as it is today, just East of Waxahachie

 

Director Bruce Beresford

Duvall winning a Best Actor Academy Award

TENDER MERCIES          A                                                                                                  USA  (92 mi)  1983  d: Bruce Beresford

You see, I don’t trust happiness.   I never did.  I never will.                                                         —Max Sledge (Robert Duvall)

With the recent death of actor Robert Duvall, who died of natural causes in February at the age of 95, it’s worth remembering the one role that won him an Academy Award for Best Actor, as it’s a throwback to gentler times, where his hugely understated presence infuses the film with a quiet simplicity in this organically realized redemption story about the price of fame, the devastating destruction of the bottle, and the will to recover from horrendous mistakes in life.  Completely unpretentious, never offering any easy resolutions, nothing is ever taken for granted, as each day matters in the road to recovery.  Not nearly as well known as it deserves to be, curiously turned down by David Lynch after he made ELEPHANT MAN (1980), thinking he wasn’t right for the film, it’s aptly named, written by Texas native Horton Foote, a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright who won an Academy Award for the lyrical screenplay, having won the same award for his earlier adaptation of Harper Lee’s novel in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), with Foote developing a reputation for evoking everyday American life in beautifully observed minimal stories that allow the actors to shine, as Gregory Peck also won an Academy Award for his role as Atticus Finch in Lee’s legendary novel, one of the most beloved roles in American cinema, and a film where Duvall makes his first screen presence as the reclusive and pathologically shy Boo Radley.  Foote and Duvall were good friends spanning five decades, with Duvall reading a letter honoring their friendship at Foote’s funeral in 2009 (Remembering Robert Duvall and Horton Foote).  Duvall is known for his larger-than-life presence in Francis Ford Coppola’s APOCALYPSE NOW (1978), uttering the infamous line, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning,” and will always be associated as the level-headed consigliere in Coppola’s THE GODFATHER (1972), where his favorite role, according to interviews, was playing an ex-Texas Ranger in Lonesome Dove — TV mini-series (1989), but it is here that he really carves out a distinctive place in his career, as this is a quieter, more reserved performance, defined by stifled emotions and the decency of the human spirit, listed at #14 of Premiere magazine’s 100 Greatest Movie Performances of All Time.  Described by film critic Pauline Kael as a “bare-bones ‘art’ movie,” intentionally avoiding big grandiose scenes, even the use of close-ups, instead filming from a respectful distance, this is a spare depiction of rural Southern life where not much ever happens, filled with long silences and the dialed-down poetry of spoken words, a reminder of simpler times where honesty prevails, having a neighborly respect for others, and above all, an effortless display of human kindness.  Very few films are able to achieve the authenticity established here, not just in the immensity of the empty landscapes, but in the personal connections, as we’ve lost this ability to connect on such an intensely personal level, where this becomes a beautiful portrait of the human spirit.

Robert Duvall stars as a washed-up country singer Mac Sledge, a star who’s fallen on hard times, almost always seen wearing a Stetson hat, an alcoholic estranged from his family who has hit rock bottom at the beginning of the film, seen as just a shadow through the window, where all we hear are the violent voices and sounds taking place behind closed doors in a remote country gas station motel on an isolated stretch of highway, with Mac eventually sleeping off a two day bender, finding himself completely broke and unable to pay for his lodging, so he asks motel owner Rosa Lee (Tess Harper in her first screen role), if he can work off his debt, which she kindly agrees to, but only with the stipulation that no alcohol is allowed while working.  Widowed at a young age, she lost her high school sweetheart husband during the Vietnam War, which looms in the background like a ghost, leaving her to raise her young son alone, a child who never knew his father.  Surprisingly, Mac ends up sticking around for months, working for his room and board, with a small salary thrown in, literally disappearing off the face of the earth, with no one knowing where he’d gone, where that anonymity seems to help him come to his senses, regain some semblance of stability, and recover from his own largely self-inflicted personal tragedies.  Like a safe port in a storm, they end up getting married (entirely offscreen, even the proposal), but he still struggles with his demons while haunted by his past, as we’re not even aware he was once a major star until well into the picture.  Country music is a thread that runs through this movie, something the studio executives failed to comprehend, eventually losing faith in the film, failing to understand what it was about and how the music connects to what was at that time a massive unidentified audience, providing few resources to promote it, but country star Willie Nelson was impressed by the authenticity of Duvall’s performance and offered to step in to help promote it.  Most importantly, co-producer Robert Duvall wrote some of the songs he sings in the film and does all his own singing, feeling a genuine connection to the character, which is why it works so well.  Authenticity is the key, something movie studios today still have a hard time understanding, producing very few films that fit that criteria.  The film helped define the American independent film movement of the 1980’s by initiating a trend of personal filmmaking that often looks beyond Hollywood conventions.  Emblematic of that is an early scene with Mac playing a song for Rosa Lee’s son Sonny (Allan Hubbard, who never made another film) in the kitchen, which is remarkably minimalistic, yet rooted in something we all universally understand, Tender Mercies Scene YouTube (2:07).   

The relatively barren locations are perhaps more reflective of West Texas, taking place on a little desolate stretch of flat land, yet the film was mostly shot in and around Waxahachie and Palmer in north central Texas by Australian cinematographer Russell Boyd, who has the distinction of shooting one of the most beautiful films ever made, Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), while the film is directed by fellow Aussie Bruce Beresford, whose groundbreaking war drama BREAKER MORANT (1980) helped usher in an Australian New Wave, so it may come as a surprise to some that an Australian is able to so eloquently capture the poetic nuances of small-town America, yet that is what truly elevates this film over so many others.  Perhaps the only other film that gets the unique distinctiveness of the South right, particularly Texas, is Peter Bogdanovich’s The Last Picture Show (1971), which was adapted by Larry McMurtry from his own novel, though the Truman Capote autobiographical adaptation of David Perry’s A Christmas Memory - made for TV (1966) captures the subtle nuances of small-town life in rural Alabama.  Tess Harper was raised as rural and working class herself, coming from the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas, providing just the right touch of firmness, grace, and mercy, with an ever-observant eye, always watching over others.  The film has a stripped down, almost raw feel to the narrative, taking its time, only revealing what’s essential, as so much is expressed by what is left unsaid, where every scene feels valued, contributing to the overall build-up of the interior realms of the characters.  With its themes of sin and redemption, forgiveness, hope, and personal transformation through religious faith, some may recognize this as a religious movie, as it also speaks to the power of prayer, which is where the title comes from, with the kind-hearted frontier woman Rosa Lee, a devout Christian, revealing, “Each night when I say my prayers I thank God for his tender mercies,” which is simply a wonderful revelation, whether it has religious intent or not.  The church also figures prominently, as the family attends a Baptist church on a regular basis, accentuating the singing of the hymns and the idea of baptism (the visual expression of baptism by immersion is rare in films), where it eludes to the possibility of being reborn in the spirit of the Lord.  God does not protect us from the inevitable pains and sufferings of life, but he knowingly sends the “tender mercies” that somehow make life worth living, regardless of the circumstances.  Most people do not recognize this as a religious movie, but to those who see it that way, this is a profoundly powerful film, as religious a movie as you could ever find, as it speaks of God in an unusually secular way, yet is also fundamentally human, expressing the stirrings of love in an existential sense.

Initially released in only a handful of theaters, coinciding with the early days of MTV, which is diametrically opposite to what this represents, it was a box office dud until word of mouth spread, as critics who saw it provided enthusiastic reviews.  While it’s rare for movies to portray rural characters as complex human beings, the back story revolves around Mac’s embittered ex-wife, Dixie (Tony Award winning actress/singer Betty Buckley), who became famous singing Mac’s songs, Betty Buckley from "Tender Mercies" singing "Over You YouTube (3:59), the first country single to be nominated for an Oscar, with Wilford Brimley as her over-protective manager Harry, but their contentious divorce-filled allegations of alcohol-fueled violence left their daughter in limbo, with Dixie refusing to allow Mac to see or speak to her as she grew up.  Now that she’s reached the age of 18, Sue Ann (the wonderful Ellen Barkin sparkles in a very early role) can decide for herself, as their worlds intersect briefly when she pays him a visit, a girl he barely knows, where she remembers a song he sang to her at night, but she can’t quite remember it.  Taken by surprise, Mac doesn’t either, but the moment she leaves he’s seen alone at a window with his back to the camera quietly remembering the song in what may be the film’s most poignant moment, with the song carrying the central theme of the movie, “On the wings of a snow white dove, God sends his pure, sweet love,” Tender Mercies (1983) - “A Song You Used To Sing To Me ... YouTube (2:59).  With the encouragement of a band of local kids who idolize him, Mac makes a comeback, of sorts, balancing the sacred and the profane, singing with them in a honky tonk bar, Clip from "Tender Mercies (1983)" YouTube (3:22).  The film deals with a constant refrain of “champagne ladies” and “broken dreams,” the subjects of his old songs, but also paints a picture of how much it hurts to face reality, expressing the pain of mortality, where nothing can explain the sudden loss of life of a loved one, especially a child, as there is so much meaning packed into such a devastating loss, where there are simply no words that can fill the empty hole in one’s heart, but love may be the closest thing we have, in all its forms and permutations, with real emotion literally filling the screen in the haunting final moments when reality comes crashing into our lives in the most unexpected way, Scenes & End Credits from "Tender Mercies (1983)" YouTube (4:31).  The final musical ballad, the Craig Bickhardt song You Are What Love Means to Me YouTube (4:11), which takes the film to the end credits, feels surprisingly commercial and out of place, completely altering the tone of bare essentials and stripped-down authenticity, though the lyrics do fit the story.  Still, it may be the film’s only misfire.  Mac comes to embody a second chance in life, whose redemptive arc is largely a symbol of a possible resolution to the American chaos and disorder inherited from the 60’s and 70’s, yet despite the anguish and grief associated with death, where there’s no clear answer or road map, love prevails, in all its simplicity and grace, as in the end that’s all we really have to fill the void of meaninglessness.