Shun Li works in a textile factory near Rome, saving money so she can bring her young son to join her. Suddenly transferred to work in a small town along the Venetian Lagoon, she meets a local fisherman a handsome old Slav immigrant nicknamed “The Poet.”
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This beautifully lyrical film from Italian director Andrea Segre is his first fictional endeavour after a series of documentaries. “Shun Li and The Poet” (Italian title: “Io Sono Li”) tackles issues such as racism and the close-mindedness of small communities, alongside motherhood, poetry, the difficulties of immigration, with a respectful and wonderfully poetic directorial touch.
Profoundly moving yet lovingly gentle tale this was. The story is a poem in it's own about a Chinese woman who has immigrated to Italy and a Slavic immigrant whose son insists he move with his family in another town. The two connect, and even speaking in different languages seem to understand each other very well. Mutual understanding and comfort from one immigrant to another. A tenderness we all should relate to.
Chronicles in the lives of migrant workers and their struggle in foreign lands to maintain a sense of self, while painfully separated from those they love for something as evanescent as paper money. The filmmaker uses empathy and non-verbal text very effectively as cinematic languages. The narrative tells us that in our alienation human beings adopt surrogates to fill their deepest needs for intimacy.
Solid. That's a ll I can think about. Solid script, solid acting, solid camerawork. In that a bit too predictable in my opinion and the corny piano music didn't help either. Like its protagonist, you want the film to leave its save haven at one point and venture out into unknown waters, but it never does.
"Del quadrato si può fare un cerchio?
Strade lontane si possono incrociare?
Vivo è il rimpianto per la via smarrita
nell'incerto cammino del ritorno.
A ritroso il mio carro si volge.
Confusa tra gli errori era la strada."
- Qu Yuan