‘Luce’: Locarno Review

Dirs/scr: Silvia Luzi and Luca Bellino. Italy. 2024. 95 mins.

Obsession is up close and personal in Silvia Luzi and Luca Bellino’s second fiction feature, following 2017 Venice Critics Week title Crater, which intriguingly – if sometimes too opaquely – charts a handful of days in the life of their unnamed protagonist (Marianna Fontana) as she throws open the doors to closed-off emotions. 

The pull of the film rests on Fontana’s intense central performance

A worker in an unforgiving leather factory in southern Italy, who bathes her sore hands in salt water at night with only her cat for company, the woman’s mental isolation is emphasised by the directors’ shallow focus shooting style which means the rest of the world seems just a blur in the background. The catalyst for change comes when she enlists the help of a communion photographer (Luigi Bignoni) to fly a phone by drone over what appears to be a prison wall, hoping it will reach her father. When the phone rings, her conversation with the mysterious man (Tomasso Ragno) at the other end of the line marks the start of a strange relationship in which dreams and reality also begin to blur.

The use of almost constant close-ups is an immersive choice that Luzi and Bellino, who began their directorial careers in documentary, also employed on Crater, which won the special jury award at Tokyo. It’s a distinctive technique that should help propel Luce round the festival circuit after its premiere in Locarno competition, and could garner arthouse interest. 

The approach also acts like a magnet between us and their protagonist, demanding that we concentrate on every micro-expression as she reacts to the situations and people she encounters as she goes about her day. “Talking is important,” the mystery man tells her on one of his irregular calls. It’s an activity that is sorely lacking in the rest of her life, with chatting in the factory banned and nobody to come home to. She does have colleagues and extended family she speaks to during breaks, or on nights out, but there is no mistaking her sense of alienation. 

Although initially tentative about engaging with someone who simply replies, “It’s me” when asked who they are, the phone conversations are soon providing an outlet for her to embellish reality and indulge in escapist fantasies that prove to be achingly poignant in their simplicity. The factory environment is shot in cool hues by Jacopo Maria Caramella, matching the bluesy and spare trumpet-dominated score from Stefano Grosso and Alessandro Paolini. Episodes on the phone in the evening have a noticeably warmer palette, reinforcing the sense of escape that they represent.

The intimacy of these moments is enhanced by the gravelly tones of Ragno, his hushed approach creating a bubble Fontana’s character can’t wait to fall into. The pull of the film rests on her intense central performance, enhanced by periodic scenes in which she has her back to the camera so that there is a heightened impact when it returns to her face. Probably best known to Italian audiences from historical drama series Romulus, her carefully calibrated navigation of her character’s desires and fears is likely to propel her to greater international recognition. 

The acute focus on one character’s headspace does mean there is little room for much else. Attempts to chart her relationship with the photographer feel vague by comparison,and some audiences may find the writer/directors’ determination to avoid concrete revelations even at crunch points frustrating. Nevertheless Fontana brings home the emotional goods as, appropriately for a film that is driven by ideas of focus, her character suddenly sees her own life snap sharply into clarity.