Open Roads Review: The Wind Blows Round

Open Roads is an all-too-brief survey of new Italian cinema presented annually by New York's Film Society of Lincoln Center. Now in it sixth year, the series offers a wide selection of films, most of which will never see distribution in the US; this year's festival runs from May 31 until June 8, and further details (including ticket information) can be found on the Open Roads website.

Not much happens over the course of Giorgio Diritti's directorial debut, The Wind Blows Round. A man and his family move into a small, foreign town and, eventually, they leave. Very little more exciting than that ever happens, and yet the movie is riveting, exploring such age-old issues as man's inhumanity to man while quietly, simply watching people live. Set in the tiny, fictional town of Chersogno in the Piedmont region of northern Italy, the film is choked with stunning scenery, each alpine scene more awesome -- and, often, more intimidating -- than the next. The gorgeous-yet-severe landscape combines with the movie's score and its unpredictable characters to create an ever-present tension that, though it seems unlikely in a film as slow-moving as this one, is in fact its driving force.

The story, told in flashback, begins with the arrival of a ragged, free-spirited Frenchman (Philippe Heraud, played with impressive subtlety by Thierry Toscan who, like the rest of the cast, is appearing onscreen for the first time) in Chersogno. He's sporting a scruffy beard and is clad only in a sweater and shorts, despite the frigid weather, and has been driving for an undetermined number of days, sleeping in his car when he stops. Philippe is a former teacher who has recently turned to goat-herding and cheese-making in the French Alps, but is on the move again because of a nuclear plant being built near his home. He has a wife and three children at home, and is looking for a new place to live.

Populated almost entirely by the elderly -- who speak a traditional language called Occitano, a nearly lost combination of French and Italian -- the village is virtually empty for the non-holiday months of the year, and its residents are befuddled by the news that a foreigner with a young family wants to live there on a permanent basis. Eventually, though, the town council decides that the family's youth could be the spark Chersogno needs, and that Philippe's cheese might help to draw visitors. They find him a house to rent -- and fix it up, gratis -- as well as land on which to graze his goats, and welcome the family with relatively open arms. Soon, however, Philippe's untraditional way of life and his lack of interest in town traditions lead to misunderstandings and conflicts. Gradually, the conflicts grow, and the movie builds slowly but inexorably towards a climax of sorts.

But what matters in The Wind Blows Round is not the events it depicts. What's important are the characters, and their nuances and relationships, and the simple facts of their every day lives. In many ways, the movie is populated by stock characters: There is the scruffy, strange man with a beautiful wife, the judgmental older women, the handsome young man, and the village idiot. Each of these stock figures, though, is given tremendous depth and personality by a team of non-professional actors whose performances are so completely lacking in self-consciousness that one gets the sense they're behaving on screen as they do every day -- the only difference is that a camera happened to on-hand to capture these moments. The residents of Chersogno are set in their ways, suspicious and, sometimes, cruel, but these emotions are not condemned by Diritti, just as Philippe's modern hippie ways are not applauded; both are simply presented as they are. People, the director seems to be saying, are never quite as good or pure as we wish they would be, even in the small, mountain villages of our imagination. There is cruelty and stubbornness everywhere, and one of the most powerful things about The Wind Blows Round is it lack of contrivance: The characters are presented, warts and all, free of cinematic flourishes and neat Hollywood salvation.

Aside from its naturalistic writing and acting, the film's other greatest strength is its look. Though the movie may mark Diritti's debut, the director has impeccable instincts. Out of the gorgeous vistas on offer he and cinematographer Roberto Cimatti (one of the few experienced professionals associated with the film) create a world that is almost otherworld in its foreboding power. When the region's rugged peaks or grassy valleys are seen, it is nearly always through clouds or rain, an artistic choice that gives the film a pallet consisting largely of a dark, healthy green and gun-metal gray. This visual darkness is powerful both because it firmly establishes the movie's tone, and also because it assures that the few moments of bright color are almost surreal in their suddenness, an effect that gives them a tremendous impact.

A film like The Wind Blows Round makes one thankful that festivals like Open Roads exist. It's a debut feature from an unknown director that features a cast of non-actors; the odds of it getting American distributorship are nil. Despite the fact that it's not US-market friendly, however, it's a movie of tremendous, subtle power that is difficult to forget, and Giorgio Diritti is a director of impressive grace and patience whose future work (should we be so lucky as to see it on this side of the Atlantic) holds tremendous promise.