Italian Film Offers Title, Laughs, Tears

In the 18th century, Horace Walpole wrote, “Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel.” Perhaps the greatest films—those rare epic wonders—are those that allow you to do both: to tear up and laugh uncontrollably.

Although one is loath to compare Daniele Luchetti’s My Brother Is an Only Child (Mio Fratello è Figlio Unico) to Shakespeare’s tragicomedies, it is this difficult element that allows both artists to succeed gracefully, and with such intensity. A smash hit in its native Italy, My Brother Is an Only Child blends hard-hitting drama with natural, easygoing dialogue that is as funny as it is poignant.

Set in the 1960s and ’70s, the film evokes a bittersweet nostalgia for all—even for those of us outside of Italy who never experienced those turbulent times. The film is largely about the relationship between two brothers and the politics and relationships which inevitably divide them. The elder, Manrico (Riccardo Scarmaccio), is broodingly handsome and beloved by all—he’s also fiercely charismatic and a communist to boot.

Yet all events are seen through the point of view of his more awkward younger brother, Accio (Elio Germano), nicknamed “the Bully,” who, due to insecurity about his relationship with his family, rebels and teams up with the reactionary fascist movement.
Accio is remarkably intelligent, though his working-class family doesn’t allow him to receive the education in Latin that he craves. He is annoyed with his family, and his mother in particular, who seems to place Manrico on a pedestal and forces Accio to attend trade school instead of university. Thus Accio grows to adore “eternal things,” wishing above all to travel to Rome, which seems so far away from their little town of Latina.

Slowly, while violence ensues, both brothers become deeply involved in their respective politics. Accio feels ostracized from his left-leaning family and meanwhile falls in love with his brother’s beautiful girlfriend, Francesca (Diane Fleri). Accio must grow to reconcile his fascist ideology with a growing loyalty to his family. Underneath a hostile and fiercely idealistic exterior, we see Accio as a truly good person at his core, a realization which unfolds in both tragic and hilarious ways.

The film’s cinematography and artistry appear sincere, somehow touching—there is a grainy, earth-toned quality to the imagery which contributes to the feeling of nostalgia. The music, composed largely of traditional Italian instruments and folk melodies, keeps the film upbeat. It seems to pulsate with liveliness. By and large, it is bursting with what can only be described as “Italian-ness.” Many scenes blend physical violence with an almost crude humor. For example, Accio, upon singing a fascist melody, proceeds to be slapped in the face by his mother—a scene producing tremendous guffaws from the audience. There is great acting here, acting which is somehow obnoxious, yet subtle.
Most refreshing of all is the film’s lack of politics. Though it describes the two ideologies of a highly polarized era, the movie is entirely apolitical. Fascism and communism are depicted from the point of view of two immature and impractical boys—they both seem inefficient, almost silly. Underneath it all, the film is about the idealism of youth—one particularly striking scene involves a fight between a group of young fascists and communists. Accio and Manrico duke it out like two high school boys and the audience is left disturbed, wondering what the struggle was all really for. Yet My Brother Is an Only Child is not devoid of philosophy. The dialogue includes such quote-worthy gems as, “Art by itself is masturbation,” and “Don’t touch the immortal!” the latter of which is yelled by Accio before the delivery of a terrific punch. In these sorts of situations, the underlying hint of satire makes the political polarity just plain funny.

There is one somewhat strange flaw in this lovely film—the actors rarely seem to age. Accio at 17 looks as old as he does at 22 or 30, while the actor playing Manrico only grows a slight mustache between the ages of 16 and 30. This inconsistency aside, the film is epic—delightful and romantic, appealing to the eternal themes of humanity and family. One can only hope that My Brother Is an Only Child will be one of those foreign classics to transcend the Atlantic and become a hit in our less-than-receptive states.