Shooting the Mafia – first look review | Little White Lies

Festivals

Shoot­ing the Mafia – first look review

27 Jan 2019

Words by Ed Gibbs

A black and white image showing a person lying on the ground, bundled in a blanket, next to a parked car with a registration plate visible.
A black and white image showing a person lying on the ground, bundled in a blanket, next to a parked car with a registration plate visible.
Doc­u­men­tar­i­an Kim Longinot­to explores the Mafia’s grip on Sici­ly through the lens of pho­to­jour­nal­ist Letizia Battaglia.

Through­out her career, Kim Longinot­to has shone a light on the most con­fronting of women’s issues. From her own expe­ri­ence at a stiff, all-female board­ing school to emerg­ing trans­gen­der iden­ti­ties in Japan, divorce courts in Iran, slav­ery in Asia and pros­ti­tu­tion in the US, Longinotto’s unwa­ver­ing obser­va­tion­al eye has pro­vid­ed some of the most arrest­ing doc­u­men­tary work of the past few decades.

Here, she turns her lens on Sici­ly and the infa­mous Cosa Nos­tra that bru­tal­ly con­trols the island. One woman, the free-spir­it­ed Letizia Battaglia, has spent much of the last 40 years cap­tur­ing the grim real­i­ty of that iron grip with her trusty Nikon. Dodg­ing death threats, phys­i­cal assault and intim­i­da­tion, Battaglia has over time become some­thing of a celebri­ty in the Sicil­ian cap­i­tal of Paler­mo, greet­ed as the people’s hero on anti-Mafia demonstrations.

By con­trast her stark, black-and-white images pro­vide a sober­ing account of the blood­shed – of hun­dreds of men, women and chil­dren – of those who dare to defy the Ital­ian Mob. Her aim: to break through the locals’ so-called Code of Silence.

Buoyed by an effec­tive and var­ied sound­track, Longinot­to blends Battaglia’s per­son­al mov­ing image with scenes from Ital­ian movies, key grabs of news footage and those con­fronting images, which for 20 years were pub­lished in Ital­ian left-wing dai­ly L’Ora. Col­leagues who are inter­viewed remem­ber her with wry affec­tion (“She attract­ed men like fly­pa­per,” says one), as do sev­er­al for­mer, younger lovers, who are clear­ly still besotted.

By her own admit­tance, Battaglia fled a vio­lent, suf­fo­cat­ing mar­riage to expe­ri­ence life on her terms. Whether she’s been a trail­blaz­er for oth­er women isn’t specif­i­cal­ly addressed (she was the first female pho­to­jour­nal­ist to work on an Ital­ian dai­ly). What is clear, how­ev­er, is her com­mit­ment to the anti-Mafia cause and her defi­ance, at 83, not to sur­ren­der to fear.

The first hour of Longinotto’s film focus­es on Battaglia’s own jour­ney, from a feisty teenage bride (and moth­er) to flee­ing her domes­tic abuse and, at 40, pick­ing up the cam­era, while break­ing hearts along the way. There’s an obvi­ous air of Agnés Var­da about the red-haired Battaglia, who chain-smokes through­out, as she shares some of her life secrets. Work and men fea­ture heav­i­ly through­out. Dis­cus­sion on being a work­ing moth­er and her two daugh­ters is all-too brief and, evi­dent­ly, off-limits.

Lat­er the film shifts focus to the high-pro­file cas­es which the state brought against top Mafia boss­es, and the near­ly 500 defen­dants who work for them. Many are sen­tenced and sent down. The judges involved are then rou­tine­ly bumped off with the use of car bombs. Despite mass incar­cer­a­tion and pub­lic out­rage, the Ital­ian mob’s grip on Sici­ly appears to be large­ly unchanged today, leav­ing an open-end­ed air of uncer­tain­ty, even despair, which Battaglia’s final opti­mism in youth pow­er only par­tial­ly quashes.

As an obser­va­tion­al film­mak­er, Longinot­to fol­lows her sub­ject in an unob­tru­sive, unscript­ed way as she goes about dai­ly life. This works well in set­ting up the world of the film, although the shift lat­er means that Battaglia is fight­ing for screen time with the very organ­i­sa­tion she is at pains to bring down. We are left with a fas­ci­nat­ing look inside a near-her­met­i­cal­ly sealed world of crime, where very few sur­vive to tell their tale of defi­ance. Battaglia, amaz­ing­ly, does, although the film­mak­ers’ lack of access to her own fam­i­ly leaves the sto­ry unfinished.

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