A strange, irresistible pair of secret agents on Easter Island

The Venice Film Festival – which opened on 2 September and runs until the 12th – has so far produced two rather dubious heroes. Not in our eyes, though, as we would never let such trivial matters spoil our enjoyment of such superb films as Danny Boyle’s ‘Ink’ and Martin McDonagh’s ‘Wild Horse Nine’. The courageous publisher who revolutionised the British publishing industry in the 1960s and 1970s – by buying The Sun and filling it with what people want: horoscopes, recipes, sport and, later on, the infamous bare breasts – was called Rupert Murdoch. Yes, him: the magnate who set in motion the decline of the press, and not just in Britain. Italian newspapers have placed their trust in Danny Boyle, a director above all suspicion. How could anyone be wary of the director of Trainspotting, which ends with the greatest anti-everything tirade, crying out ‘choose life’? Not the little house with a mortgage; down with DIY; television in front of the sofa is poison.

In the film, the architects of the revolution take their seats on a very long sofa. For it was indeed a revolution, compared to the stuffy British press. Accessible language, TV programmes and cooking tips had never before found their way into the daily newspapers. The format also changed, with the printing presses adapted because the right ones for tabloids weren’t yet being manufactured. Rupert Murdoch had arrived from Australia, a country of former convicts. He’d bought a run-down daily newspaper and entrusted it – today we’d call it a revamp, though it’s always about getting the finances back on track – to an editor from a working-class background. His name was Larry Lamb, and he gathered around him journalists who, for various reasons, had been sidelined in their careers. The shock treatment worked rather well. There was just enough time to reflect – and then regret – the thunderous applause at the preview for journalists. Now, as soon as you utter the surname Murdoch, they fire away (and meanwhile in Italy, former flagship papers such as Corriere della Sera and La Repubblica are competing to follow the agenda dictated by television – the original formula, it must be repeated, was to produce a newspaper for those who watched only television). Just enough time to recover, and along comes the fantastic film by Martin McDonagh (director and screenwriter of the magnificent The Banshees of Inisherin and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri). ‘Wild Horse Nine’ – his film at the 2026 Venice Film Festival – stars a magnificent John Malkovich. A bit off his rocker, with age taking its toll, he comes out with ‘very comprehensive arguments’, as the Perpetual Lover would put it. But above all, from his leaky memory emerge fragments of old, rather serious missions. It’s 1973; before their short holiday, the CIA agents were in Santiago, Chile. There they left their boss, a terrifying Steve Buscemi, worse than the jokes people tell about him.

Our characters are not exactly saints either – alongside John Malkovich, there is a magnificent Sam Rockwell playing his carer, a thoughtful colleague who wants to prevent too much damage, and who, if the need arises and upon specific request, might even kill him. But John Malkovich, with his early-stage Alzheimer’s, is utterly charming and irresistible. This odd couple, against the backdrop of Easter Island, copes with the stress of a far-from-clear past. Here we have our second hero with a criminal record that is far from spotless. Two compelling characters whom you might not introduce to your mother or even your girlfriend, yet whom you cannot help but root for. Of course, that is not what happens in Gianni Amelio’s film, presented as a fairy tale. Alessandro Borghi plays a second-hand book seller – though he seems never to have read a single one – who feels guilty for not having listened to a wide-eyed immigrant child, who later ended up under a car. So he opens up his home, and migrants arrive by the dozen: he ends up having to sleep on a bench. Fortunately, there is Valeria Golino, who had bought a book from his stall – a spark enough to kindle a connection between kindred spirits. Here we have a paradox: those who have bored us so far have the inalienable right to continue boring us.

Gianni Amelio was out of competition; there are five Italians in the competition: Nanni Moretti, Edoardo De Angelis, Andrea Pallaoro, Marco Bechis and Paolo Strippoli, who is flying the flag for genre cinema. In the Orizzonti section, we have already highlighted Alina Marazzi’s La ragazza con la Leica, a biopic featuring archive footage and scenes re-enacted by actors. Also in the Orizzonti section was La città dei vivi, which director Edoardo Gabriellini (who began his career as an actor for Paolo Virzì) adapted from Nicola Lagioia’s Strega Prize-winning novel. A well-written and well-acted film of a reasonable length – there’s no need to exceed two hours, even when there’s a lack of material. The life of Luca Varani, son of fairground workers and victim of a horrific crime – the details were in the news reports, they’re not in the film. It is still too early to judge. However, we can say that the 2026 Festival has got off to a rather good start. For true enthusiasts only, there was “Queer Edward II”. The British community under attack in 1991, whilst Derek Jarman was filming “Edward II”. Back when political cinema wasn’t afraid of sequins. On set, a very young Tilda Swinton with skin as pale as the moon.