Margherita is a director shooting a film with the famous American actor Barry Huggins, who is quite a character. Away from the set, Margherita tries to hold her life together while feeling powerless when facing her mother’s illness and her daughter’s adolescence.
Working slightly outside of his usual autobiographical mode, Nanni Moretti (The Son’s Room) still draws on personal experience for Mia Madre. A scene-stealing John Turturro stars in this tragicomic story about love, death, and filmmaking—with a soundtrack featuring Arvo Pärt and Jarvis Cocker!
Mia Madre is a sharp, sobering, fitfully funny and surprising film about the sadness of losing a loved one, the jolting realization that death is not coming someday but now, and the fragility of existence itself.
Un Moretti intenzionalmente debole, volubile, svuotato di parole in questo tenue auto-rimprovero dal retrogusto amaro che sa di assenze e colloqui smarriti. Un film volutamente frammentario e saturo di ellissi che si consuma nell'arco di due ore incentrandosi sul perdere e non sul perduto. Sul dolore, ma non doloroso.
I don't remember seeing many films where the balance between comedy and tragedy was dealt with this well. On the surface this is chaotic, but the internal machinery of the composition works superbly. On a personal note: it's very rare that films manage to hit me emotionally like this did.
A film of great sensitivity and understanding of the nuances that amount to suffering. Moretti likes to overstate the intention of the mundane, which builds, little by little, to an unfathomable sense of cleansing. Mia Madre is not the Italian filmmaker’s best film but it is one of his most introspective.
I liked it, but I didn't love it. Margherita Buy was wonderful and owned her role. John Tuturro's was funny but not THAT funny and seemed a little forced in an otherwise pretty depressing film about a terrible, but natural, situation. The moments that tricked you, with dreams and thoughts, were a nice touch, but when the moment finally came, it wasn't as strong as I would have wished. Perfect final scene, though.
Although sometimes too aesthetically condescending, there is still a notion of unity in each scene, so crucial in Moretti's films, through an almost-dialectical editing process: daughter and mother, sister and brother, solitude and companionship, laughs and tears, gaining and losing…This agreement of opposites is, somehow, what turns this small melodrama into a compassionate statement on love, life and death.