Trauma and Violence; Different Sensibilities: Nanni Moretti's the Son's Room and Todd Field's in the Bedroom
2006; Issue: 68 Linguagem: Inglês
ISSN
2562-2528
Autores Tópico(s)Theatre and Performance Studies
Resumopresent paper examines questions of trauma, violence and mourning by comparing two feature films with the same basic subject, namely, the way in which a family copes with the death of an only son: Nanni Moretti's Son's Room (La stanza del figlio, Italy/France 2001), and Todd Field's In the Bedroom (USA 2001). Both low-budget, powerful family dramas, they have met considerable critical acclaim: Moretti won the Palme d'Or at Cannes in 2001, and Field's independent first feature won numerous prizes (at Sundance and elsewhere), and was nominated for five Academy Awards, including Best Picture. Despite their similar premises, however, there are crucial differences in the way trauma and violence function in either drama: in one death is the result of an accident, of natural violence, with trauma contingent and endured without redeeming catharsis; while in the other trauma is an effect of interpersonal physical violence and, unbearable to those affected by it, perpetuated by means of revenge. This junction seems symptomatic of deeper cultural sensibilities regarding individualism, agency, and justice endemic to Europe and the United States respectively. Before reading Field's film in view of American cinema's attitude towards violence, I will begin with a discussion of Son's Room. (1) [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] THE SON'S ROOM: Trauma endured Moretti's humanist study of loss and grief in an affluent Italian family, which he co-scripted, directed, and co-produced, is set mostly in the small city of Ancona, on the Adriatic coast. A ninety-minute feature, its narrative turns around a psychoanalyst (a crucial choice of profession) confronted with personal tragedy, but is, significantly, itself psychoanalytically structured as a story of trauma and its working-through: composed of three sections, each is roughly thirty minutes long. Act one we could call The seemingly perfect life, act two Tragedy, loss and mourning, and act three Letting go: an open-ended journey. Act one consists mostly of elliptical episodes acting as a bracket describing the little things in the life of Giovanni Sermonti/Nanni Moretti. film opens on Giovanni in t-shirt, slacks, and gym shoes jogging along the harbor, large ferries and container ships moored in the background, with the credits superimposed. sunshine and bright colors of late summer set the visual tone for the rest of the film and serve to counterpoint the melancholy later on, while the Italianita of Nicola Piovani's instrumentally backed-up piano score combines leisurely cheerfulness with a distinct note of sadness. There is a striking long shot of Moretti running on the quay, and a freighter painted red looming large in the background, the meaning of which shall be fulfilled much farther in the narrative. presence of these huge ships, expressing the massiveness of the real, will act as the allegorical embodiment of fate and the contingencies of life dwarfing the individual's will, in a world in which people are not fully in control of what happens to them. They also embody the enormity of grief and sorrow that will overwhelm the family. This symbolism, however, is latent, not superimposed, but naturally embedded in the mise-en-scene. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] Throughout act one, there is on the surface a lightness of being conveyed by a narrative style at once matter-of-fact and elegant, an easy flow of movement, a slow pace synchronized to human time, of minor activities in the mode of frequentative. As in the rest of the film, there is no strong causality or anticipated action. After his jog through town, Giovanni pauses at a cafe, having a cup of coffee and a glass of water, recalling the ending of Moretti's episodic essay Dear Diary (Caro diario, Italy/France 1994), in which he had conquered cancer (after consulting one doctor after another unable to correctly diagnose, let alone cure his illness--a subtle plant which will pay off later, when Giovanni's patients accuse him of not able to help them). …
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