Ver­miglio review – a hushed yet effec­tive­ly emo­tive drama

The rela­tion­ships we forge in life often aren’t always smooth-sail­ing. They can be both lov­ing and heart­break­ing at the same time. That being said, per­haps the most com­plex of rela­tion­ships isn’t ones with roman­tic intrigue, but with our own fam­i­lies. Mau­ra Delpero’s Ver­miglio is an Ital­ian dra­ma that won the Grand Jury Prize at the 2024 Venice Film Fes­ti­val, and went on to be a rich head­lin­er on the year’s ensu­ing fes­ti­val circuit.

Set in the scenic yet remote Alpine vil­lage of Ver­miglio in 1944, there isn’t much noise about World War Two that is hap­ping just over the hilly hori­zon. The only noise comes from the unex­pect­ed arrival of Pietro (Giuseppe De Domeni­co), a Sicil­ian sol­dier who decid­ed to opt out of life on the front line. Cesare (Tom­ma­so Rag­no), the local school teacher and father of an ever-grow­ing fam­i­ly of nine, helps Pietro become part of the tight knit com­mu­ni­ty, declar­ing that no sol­dier asked for the war.

It’s evi­dent that Cesare’s eldest daugh­ter Lucia (Mar­ti­na Scrinzi) has a soft spot for Pietro. The swift love affair between the two is most­ly played out sans dia­logue, though the chem­istry between De Domeni­co and Scrinzi allows for the sen­ti­ment to feel gen­uine. Soon after their qui­et first kiss, the pair mar­ry and are soon expect­ing their first child. As the war is declared over and cel­e­bra­tions break out, it’s time for Pietro to return to Sici­ly. He promis­es to write to Lucia as soon as he arrives, but weeks go by and noth­ing comes. Sad­ly, through the news­pa­per, they learn that Pietro has been mur­dered by some­one who didn’t take too well to his new life.

As the film pro­gress­es through its first half, it feels stuck at times as it attempts to jug­gle the com­pli­cat­ed lives of the fam­i­ly, rather than find­ing its sole focus. Dino (Patrick Gard­ner) is resent­ful of his father and opts to drink than focus on his edu­ca­tion, where­as Flavia (Anna Thaler) is the smart one des­tined for a prop­er edu­ca­tion. We see Ada (Rachele Potrich) act­ing strange at times and sneak­ing off behind the wardrobe door to touch her­self. The film’s plot twist is the first time it feels like a nar­ra­tive has been cement­ed, even though it feels rushed and tan­gled amongst the com­plex explo­ration of fam­i­ly complications.

Arguably the film is a missed oppor­tu­ni­ty to explore fur­ther the depths of Lucia’s grief. Only with­in Vermiglio’s final act do we see Lucia heav­i­ly preg­nant and strug­gling fol­low­ing the sud­den death of Pietro. Scrinzi is the star of the film at this point, allow­ing audi­ences to real­ly empathise with her char­ac­ter. Grief in films can some­times allow audi­ences to addi­tion­al­ly find some­thing they relate to, but as the theme is intro­duced quite late with­in the nar­ra­tive it doesn’t quite hit home.

It’s easy to see why Ver­miglio has received praise on the fes­ti­val stage; it’s a hushed yet effec­tive­ly emo­tive dra­ma that’s bol­stered with the addi­tion of Mikhail Krichman’s stun­ning cin­e­matog­ra­phy. Yet sad­ly, it’s hard to over­come the film’s biggest weak­ness – the rip­ple effect that comes from its over­com­pli­cat­ed characterisations.

Lit­tle White Lies is com­mit­ted to cham­pi­oning great movies and the tal­ent­ed peo­ple who make them.

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