The (silenced) amazement at the success of the film about Carlo Acutis, much like that of the Pope’s visit to France

“Il silenzio del rumore”, sang Battiato even before he became a Sufi: “Anche il tuo spazio è su misura… per paura di scoprire”. Things happen all the same, in a silence that ought instead to make a noise. Events that usually go unnoticed, which are sometimes deliberately swept under the carpet. Even without having decided to do so, without intention. Perhaps simply because one wouldn’t quite know what to say about certain things that do happen. We have seen this in recent days, in a certain awkwardness, in moments of bewilderment without an answer, in the face of the Pope’s visit to France and its unexpected success, especially amongst young people. We saw it, just a year ago, in the face of the canonisation of a teenager, Carlo Acutis. A boy who died at the age of 15 and was cautiously described in the press as the ‘social media saint’, the first millennial saint. Could he really be a saint? Yet these are things that actually do happen.

A year ago, St Peter’s Square was packed with crowds to welcome the new Pope Leo; there is still a queue of young people at the Sanctuary of the Renunciation in Assisi, where he lies buried in a glass coffin, wearing his trainers and polo shirt. Is this possible?

Thus, it went almost unnoticed—a quick glance at the press review reveals only Catholic publications that reported the figure with great enthusiasm—even the record viewing figures with which a large part of Italy welcomed "Il mio nome è Carlo", Giacomo Campiotti’s film about the life of Carlo Acutis, which Canale 5 broadcast last Sunday (a Mediaset production) and which was watched by 4,269,000 viewers, achieving a 29.6 per cent share – the highest of the evening. Peaks reached 40 per cent share—figures usually reserved for the national football team or De Martino’s Pacchi—and the performance among young viewers was particularly notable, with 32.6 per cent of the 15–34 age group tuning in. What can one say? Surely they were not all ‘Acutis boys’, those from the World Youth Day. All this amid a silence so profound it makes no sound at all.

What was the film like? Giacomo Campiotti, a humanist director, has, throughout his career, treated us to fine films in which the human element takes centre stage, as well as television works often aimed at young people, such as "Braccialetti rossi", and a specialisation in biopics of saints, including "Bakhita – The African Saint", "Giuseppe Moscati – The Love That Heals", and "Saint Philip Neri" starring Gigi Proietti. He hasn’t strayed from the right path this time either, even though television productions and a mainstream audience are, by definition, limiting: everything must be explained, yet at the same time nothing more than necessary should be said. Emotion is just around the corner, but the ‘saintly’ image is kept in check. For those familiar with the streets of Carlo’s Milan – the flower-filled Piazza Tommaseo and the Church of Santa Maria Segreta, the parish he attended and where one of his relics is now kept – in short, the upper-middle-class Milan of the city centre, the Marcelline school, the Jesuit grammar school just a stone’s throw away – the images have a curious documentary-film feel to them. Yet the film avoids excessive hagiography (we have seen far worse); after all, ever since the days of Maria Goretti and Cielo sulla Palude, intellectual film critics have taught us that ‘one is only a saint in hindsight’ – never to exaggerate.

It was to be expected that many would watch Il mio nome è Carlo. But perhaps not quite so many. It is one of those rare instances where social media and television intersect that deserves a bit of a surprise; but ‘everything conspires to keep us silent’, as Rilke lamented. What remains are the repetitive reports on the ‘millennial saint’, the ‘patron saint of the internet’. Campiotti’s film is wise not to dwell on these aspects, which are, on closer inspection, superficial and non-essential. It tells, with extreme simplicity, the story of a child and a teenager, his direct and sincere friendships, and the many acts of charity that seem almost impossible at that age. A boy who was drawn to, led by, and loved by Someone he could not even have imagined. “Sadness is looking inwards; happiness is looking towards God.” “The Eucharist is my motorway to heaven.” These are words one cannot utter on one’s own, not even as an adult. And yet they were truly spoken, and they drew his friends and schoolmates along with him. And then many other young people.

It is the strange story of Carlo Acutis. But it has something in common with the catechumens of France, with the young people who sang the Salve Regina in Latin to the amazement of many. An unexpected event, which one is tempted to brush aside. After all, when one does not know what to say, it is better to remain silent. And yet one cannot help but be amazed. At least a little. At least for the sake of the ratings.