{grate 3/4} Two decades after the collapse of
fascist regime, progress has shrunk into nonexistence and once again
revolutionary politics are beginning to attract the inspiration of a new
generation. “My Brother is an Only Child,” a new film directed by Daniele
Luchetti, follows two adolescent brothers as they mature in their
relationships, ideologies and fractious fraternity while contending with the
dialectical views of the other.
Living in the provincial enclave of
the ’60s and ’70s have accomplished little in reconstructing the country’s
worn-down towns and collecting its dispersed nationalism. The eldest brother,
Manrico (Riccardo Scamarcio), becomes the voice of change early on when he
allies himself with
emergent communist party.
Coupled with his charismatic personage and ardent passion
for revolutionary change, Manrico is idolized by his younger brother, Accio
(Elio Germano). Imitating his brother’s fondness for powerful ideas, Accio
channels his bellicose personality elsewhere into fascism, like so many
hyper-masculine nationalist thugs before him.
Unique to foreign films, this distinctive brand of European
sibling rivalry is typified by the biting barbs of political manifestos — an
interesting contrast to the sarcastic flippancy common in the American
household. Wielding ideological insults as well as a punch or two when words
aren’t effective, the film moves beyond the squalor as Accio develops an
interest in his brother’s girlfriend Franscesca (Diane Fleri). As the years
march on, what begins as a family’s disparity accelerates into a nation’s
contrarian paradigm.
Luchetti’s attention to the magnetic attraction between
revolutionary ideas and the fervor of youth is the film’s threading theme.
Unlike many directors who were themselves the revolutionary youth of Manrico’s
generation, Luchetti utilizes a slightly more conservative style akin to modern
social realism. If indeed Manrico lies at the left end of the spectrum and
Accio at the right, Luchetti’s artistic style straddles the dichotomy in the
middle.
Throughout Accio’s political socialization he capriciously
shifts, desperately using politics to shape his identity. Beginning with the
innocence of religious fanaticism, when Accio reaches puberty and his
rebellious years, the ideology that best defines him becomes his party of
choice: fascism. Although the story’s structure becomes repetitive, the second
half picks up as Accio reaches the point of disillusionment: “They say you get
better with age, but I was just aging.” Yet, while one brother struggles to
find himself in the morass of political doctrine, the other characteristically
breeds militancy.
Manrico’s predictable development is tailored to the costume
of the archetypal revolutionary. Rather than capitulate to disillusionment with
his political affiliations, he readjusts his ideas by becoming even more
radical (shocking) and blending his stagnant diplomacy with the immediacy of
violence. An obvious foil to the film’s protagonist, Manrico’s story becomes
transparently trite; as Jean-Luc Godard would articulate more succinctly after
his own involvement with radical politics, “To kill a man for an idea, is to
kill a man.”
Although the film lacks the artistic exuberance of Italian
directors such as Bernardo Bertolucci (“The Dreamers”) who have dealt with
similar themes, “My Brother”’s intimate framework balances its lack of
stylistic originality, since it’s clearly not promoting a radical approach. Far
less concerned with new wave aesthetics, the portrayal of family relationships
rescues the picture from arthouse sterility; the maturation of its characters
is refracted and inflected by the family dynamic which simultaneously anchors
it throughout. Even when the story reveals itself as contrived by the end, its
poignancy is incubated by the focal point of the family at its core.
Punctuated by confectionary humor throughout, “My Brother is
an Only Child” never stops following its characters’ thoughts, movements and
developments — no matter how circular they may be. As seen in the turmoil of
one family, youth is finally restored to its proper place — outside the
political binaries — and within the relationships that bind us.
