Vermiglio is the name of a mountain village in Northern Italy where director Maura Delpero stages a powerful drama of family, betrayal and coming of age.
Her visually sumptuous feature, winner of the Grand Jury Prize at the Venice Film Festival, takes place as the Second World War ends and one generation moves into the next. The slow-burn plot focuses on a teacher’s daughter who falls in love with an army deserter – and how the relationship impacts the lives of everyone in the village.
“Vermiglio” is Italy’s submission for the Best International Feature Oscar. Italy is the most awarded (14 Oscars) and most nominated (33) country in the category’s history, having last won in 2014 with Paolo Sorrentino’s “The Great Beauty.” Delpero is the first women filmmaker submitted since Cristina Comencini (“Don’t Tell”) in 2005.
You have said that this project began with a dream. What was the vision that triggered the story?
Yes, I had a happy dream in a sad moment. When my father passed away, I dreamed of him as a 6-year-old boy. I have a photo of him when he was that age, and he was playing in his childhood home, which was the house of my grandparents in Vermiglio. I had never thought about making a film about my family, but losing my father changed my position in the world. That was the epiphany moment.
The film is about the adult characters – a daughter in the family marries a soldier who’s deserted from the war – but the kids are so important.
The kids are like a Greek chorus. When they all go to bed at night, it becomes a moment in which everything that they think and observe during the daytime can be shared between siblings. They say the things adults think but we wouldn’t say because we have too many filters. In those scenes, the kids are curious and harsh and tender. This is essential for the tone of the film.
You also depict a terrible reality: the loss of a child. But you do so off screen, without focusing on the pain.
It’s not that my grandparents didn’t suffer. They did, greatly. But it was a world where the family had to go on. The baby is lost, and she’s already pregnant with the next child. My grandmother was pregnant continuously for 20 years. They had 10 children. And as a filmmaker, I prefer not to engage in emotional blackmailing, like seeing a baby suffering or a mother suffering. What was important to me is that back then, more than now, they had the sensation that nature is bigger than us.
The film is set in 1944, but it’s very connected to the way we live today, especially in the second half. How much did you think about that?
I thought about the story taking place the day before yesterday. The past still talks to us. While writing, I always had a snowball in my mind. That little ball of snow that rolls down the hill and gains snow, snow, snow and then rolls quicker. The film has a slow beginning because I wanted to give the audience an immersive experience. You’re in this remote place in the mountains and you’re not thinking about your life. But then I hope you do think about your own life. The film is about where we come from, where we are and where we’re going.
It’s been nearly 20 years since a film directed by a woman was submitted to the Oscars from Italy. How do you feel about the selection?
I’m very happy. So many things happened at once: The prize at Venice, opening in cinemas in Italy, the Oscar selection and I also have a baby at home. I wish I could have extra time to process everything. But the Oscar selection—it’s a courageous choice. So much of Italian cinema is made in Rome, but this is a film made in the periphery, the outskirts. It’s something fresh and new, and I’m proud to have been supported in such a way.
A version of this story first appeared in the SAG Preview/Documentaries/ International issue of TheWrap awards magazine.
Read more from the SAG Preview/Documentaries/International issue here.
