Italian film-maker Jonas Carpignano’s neo-realist
coming-of-age tale, A Ciambra (2018) is about a 14-year-old boy named Pio, growing
up within a secluded and marginalized Romani (Gypsy) community in the Southwest
Italian region of Giola Tauro, Calabria. Carpignano’s previous feature-length
directorial debut, Mediterranea (2015) chronicled the tale of two refugees
making their way from Africa to southern Italy. A Ciambra is an expansion of
the premise, the director broached in his 2014 short of same name. He also
smartly ties both his feature-length movies’ narratives together, by weaving a
strong bond between Pio and the central character of ‘Meditteranea’, Ayiva (Koudous Seihon), an immigrant from Burkina Faso. Moreover, by
straddling the lines between documentary and fiction, Jonas Carpignano creates
a rich cinematic tapestry revolving around two diminished and displaced communities
without resorting to poverty porn. Like the old neo-realist cinema, A Ciambra
possesses an unmistakable authenticity, deftly pulling us into the insular and
unpredictable life of a chain-smoking, car-stealing teenager.
Cinema has long looked at Gypsy or Romani community with
mistrust. Their penury, ostracism, and discrimination have largely been absent
from popular narratives (Steven Knight’s Peaky Blinders (2013-) series is an
exception as it contained nuanced, complex Romani characters), as most films
reduced the community’s existence into few punchlines. Of course, there have
been vibrant yet obscure films about Gypsy people so as to rightly decimate the
misunderstandings and myth-makings. Aleksandar Petrovic’s I Even Met Happy
Gypsies (1967), Tony Gatlif’s Latcho Drom (1993) & Korkoro (2009), and Emir
Kusturica’s Time of the Gypsies (1988) are some of the interesting ethnographic
character studies of Romani, Gypsy people I have seen. Shot on a handheld 16 mm
in cinema verite style, Carpignano’s movie withholds the same degree of
verisimilitude. The Romani family – the Amatos – in A Ciambra play a version
of themselves. The backstory Mr. Carpignano has divulged about (in interviews)
how he came to meet the Amatos and make them chief subject of his movie is
itself makes up for an intriguing drama. In fact, the director’s ability to
perfectly capture the Amatos’ rough everyday life and dynamism in family
relationships attracts our attention more than the familiar beats of the
coming-of-age narrative.
Early into the film, we get acquainted with the bustling
sense of chaos that drives the structure of every-day life for the Amatos. The
camera conveys the rawness of 14-year-old Pio’s reality with everyone, from
adult to children, are yelling or cussing. This parallel world has been
previously made familiar to us with films like Pixote (1981) or City of God
(2002). Kids casually smoke cigarettes in front of adults, easily distancing
themselves from the adults’ lambasts. They aren’t even kids, but rather a mini-version
of hustling adults. Once after establishing the delirious atmosphere and
questionable morals of the Amato family, the director pulls back and gradually
addresses their concerns in life in a more humanistic way. At some point, after
closely watching their confined lives that’s devoted to commit organized yet
petty crimes for making ends meet, we can’t help but feel that they have no
other choice in life.
Pio already wants to prove his family that he is no longer a
boy by joining his father and elder brother Cosimo’s criminal endeavors. Pio fervently follows Cosimo around, learning
a thing or two in order to face his fears and exhibit his mettle. He picks up
various tricks involved in car-thieving trade and other hustling trades,
required to survive the streets. When Pio’s brother and father are caught by
police, Pio sets out to fill their shoes and provide for his extended family.
He befriends an African man Aviya, whose presence provides Pio a sense of
calmness and level-headedness. Earlier, Cosimo and other family members exhibit
their prejudices and mistrust about the emerging African immigrant community,
who live in huts, barracks, caravans, and tents like Romanis once lived. Pio’s
tentative friendship with Aviya (almost becomes a substitute for Cosimo)
provide him the window to look into African community, who share the same
invincible human spirit similar to the Romanis. But there are limits to this
budding friendship, which Pio harshly learns later in the narrative.
Director Jonas Carpignano’s style very much resembles
social-realist films of Dardenne brothers. The camera strictly attunes to Pio’s
narrow, restricted worldview, as he’s constantly on the look-out for ways to
exploit his surroundings. Cinematographer Tim Curtin swiftly throws us into the
chaos of a family dinner or thieving job, leavening the scene with natural
energy. It serves the basic cinematic aim of enclosing audience within the
different world. The issues surrounding the marginalized community are subtly
shown without any overt preaching. The only exception to that is the indelible moment Pio share with his reticent grandfather, who
bestows Pio the wise advice essential for their survival: “Remember, it’s us
against the world.” Mostly director Carpignano intimately focuses on the
anxieties and longing of the young boy. As a matter of fact, the director’s attempt to construct a
standard story-line with three-act structure does make certain elements
repetitive and contrived.
The family members’ real challenges in life itself may
contain countless dramatic arcs than this manufactured coming-of-age plot-line. Moreover, Carpignano’s sense of fiction, especially in the second-half, follows a
very predictable path. Nevertheless, due to the emotionally resonant
relationship between Aviya and Pio, and because of the gut-wrenching climactic
portions, we eventually receive a much enriched adolescent ‘rite-of-passage’
story. The non-professional Pio Amato does a wonderful job in conveying the
look of uncertainty and fear plaguing a boy at the crossroads of adolescence (a
worthy contender to Charlie Plummer’s tender performance in ‘Lean on Pete’). The
other non-professional players (the whole Amato clan and group of African
immigrants) have done a fine job in keeping together the raw, morally relative
developments of the story. Altogether, A Ciambra (118 minutes) is an engrossing
work of contemporary neo-realism, enlivened by the director’s eye for details
and vivid textures in portraying an impoverished, crime-ridden community.
Trailer
1 comment:
I have seen some Rom groups from close, and their messy lives, filled with smoking, alcohol, poverty and violence, can be daunting. I have always asked myself why they refuse to integrate like other immigrants, though they have been here for decades - probably some of them do and thus become invisible - we see only those who do not manage it.
Thanks for the wonderful review.
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