Nessun dolore

Applause and rave reviews, all on autopilot. Gianni Amelio is not to be criticised; there’s a risk he’ll give you a piece of his mind over a review from the previous year (a non-autobiographical episode, we should point out). "Il ladro di bambini" and then "Lamerica" have made him a specialist on the subject of emigration, from southern Italy and Albania (where a couple of enterprising Italians try to make their fortune). "In nessun dolore" opts for a fairy tale – or a parable, or a moral tale. The protagonist is Davide, a young man who sells books in a Roman square – and has neither the time nor the inclination to read even a single one. Valeria Golino asks him about this; she drops by from time to time to have a look, showing greater familiarity with reading. Will anything happen? the viewer wonders (without much hope: you don’t need the cinema to spend two hours with uninteresting people). Along comes the migrant – a permanent status that never becomes ‘immigrant’. With him is a ragged little boy with big eyes: he wants to entrust him to the bookseller to look after him. The parent walks away; the son follows the stranger, watching him as he eats in the restaurant. A flicker of annoyance, and tragedy strikes: the little boy is run over by a car. To atone, the bookseller opens his home to a few foreigners. Relatives and friends arrive, dozens upon dozens. “Atonement” would have been a more fitting title. Alessandro Borghi has Tourette’s syndrome; the tics are his own.