Previously screened at this year’s edition of Cinema Made in Italy and now commercially released, Italian filmmaker Roberto Ando’s Viva la libertá tackles the story of Enrico Oliveri (Tony Servillo), the leader of Italy’s opposition who abandons his duties in the midst of a severe crisis.
Not only is he being heavily criticized, but he also fears an imminent defeat. So he hides in France at the house of former girlfriend, Danielle (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), now married to a famed film director and raising a young daughter.
Meanwhile, he’s replaced by his twin brother, Giovanni Ernani (Tony Servillo) a slightly schizoid philosopher who’s just out of a psychiatric hospital. The manoeuvre is meant to be only temporary and to play by the book, with Giovanni posing as Enrico and emulating his statements.
He also becomes a lovable companion to Anna (Michela Cescon), Enrico’s unhappy and lonely wife (no sex included, though).
But consider he’s a bit of a nutcase and a man with his own ideas too, so he soon discards all previously written speeches and starts his own discourse.
This “new” leader of the opposition not only criticizes the mistakes his own party has made, but also calls for a strong alliance with the people, not with other parties. He becomes a modest revolutionary, if you will. And now people support him and the party may even win the elections.
Having such a predictable, simplistic storyline for a dramatic comedy is not necessarily a downer.
There may be some solutions. There can always be gradations and unexpected twists and turns in the formula, smart and sarcastic takes on the political class and its misery, new dramatic insights about opposing personalities, and perhaps the magic of great ensemble acting. There was also the challenge of choosing a consummate actor to play both Enrico and Giovanni. Tough, but not impossible to pull off. Unfortunately, none of these possibilities are found in Viva la libertá, which instead is too rudimentary and basic even for its formula (let alone having any innovations). It’s one of those films that feels old (not “classic”) as soon as you start watching it. And it gets older as it goes on.
Granted, you have Tony Servillo, who excelled in Paolo Sorrentino’s wondrous La grande belleza, but in Andò’s feature he’s misused.
He’s asked to do what any actor could do: play the politician as a cold and dull guy with somber expressions and a taciturn voice, as opposed to the easygoing and affective nutcase with great charm and an everlasting smile on his face. Clichéd as it sounds, this is exactly what it is. The rest of the roles are so underwritten that any hope of ensemble acting must be forgotten. So if the ideas are nothing new (and they are overexplained), the mechanics of the screenplay are unsurprising, the one great actor is misused, and so are the other formal values, from cinematography to sound design.
Then, what’s left to see?
