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The everlasting love. There is ambition for a more powerful director that know how to tell the feeling more utopian and moving to the big screen? Probably not. And that desire to get to the absolute value and poignant illusion that often trips up even the best. As Giuseppe Tornatore's Oscar winner and author of great works and how you can not Baarìa and perhaps not sufficiently appreciated as author gender, special talent that he has not been able to grow properly after dazzling debut with the Camorra. Mainly because it was more appreciated by critics and audiences, wrongly, for its melodramatic genre. That, you know, is one of the most dangerous and slippery strands film, constantly bringing in a narrative (and interpretations of the protagonists) over the top. And that's what happens in the latest film by this author appreciated that the right tone, in almost two hours, I do not guess never. If the Italian version is penalized by a dubbing embarrassing, you can not be completely attributed to it the mediocrity of a work that has the talent of its creator, only a few shot from teacher and little more.
Difficult to talk about this feature without a glimpse of a piece of the plot, but we'll try since all were determined to avoid any spoilers, we were not even in the presence of Star Wars. Jeremy Irons and the beautiful Olga Kurylenko very sorry but here are two lovers: he renowned astrophysicist and her graduate student in the matter but also stuntwoman, as if to sum up the career of the actress, former muse of Malick and Bond girl. The fate will separate them, but he did not make a right, finding ways to stay close and obsess her. She, of this morbid and garbatissimo stalking - web, email and mobile - will be victim and accomplice, forcing us to look to suffer in the face of an infinite love and solipsistic that never finds, or almost a physical outlet, already difficult in six years of their history, because he married her third wheel condescending.
The film suffers from a fragile subject, from a screenplay sloppy in his incredible plot twists, in the broadest sense of the term, as in his dialogues-monologues that never bring you to that empathy would arouse. Irons, caged in a display on the screen, is a two-dimensional ghost, as well as her lover, never able to get out of that figure of female mourners and submissive, pathetic and pathological, even in his own solitude.
Everything seems hostage to a filmmaker who is torn between the urge to indulge in easy emotional rhetoric and trying to draw a parabola exemplary of technology, (de) formation sentimental and improbable actors (think all'Ottavio-Charon starring Paul Calabresi) that only serve to confirm a theorem as stubborn as bumper. Unfortunately Correspondence is perhaps the worst film by Giuseppe Tornatore, which does not recover even in a soundtrack redundant, in a photograph plastic and in a setting without a flash, leaving the school assembly that flattens the different visual languages.
Although the fascinating idea already present in The latest offer of absence-presence physical and metaphysical, witty and powerful inspiration of the penultimate work of director, here becomes only a pretext, labile path through which to reach the end of the trip with repetitive and boring inability to amaze and engage the viewer.
And you end up, at best, to enjoy a match, yes, but of love nonsense.
