Marco Bellocchio’s Kidnapped: The Abduction of Edgardo Mortara, The Fall of Power
Adaptations of historical events should be viewed and approached with caution. Things didn’t happen as fiction portrays them (I’m not the first to discover that entertainment often takes precedence over accuracy, as is logical… Not to mention the need to approach a historical period and mold it to contemporary sensitivities…). Just as true crime often has the tendency to delve into the story with excessive morbidity. The combination of both aspects could easily have led to disaster. Fortunately, Marco Bellocchio is the one behind Kidnapped: The Abduction of Edgardo Mortara.
History tells us about the kidnapping by the papacy of a Jewish child under the pretext that he had been baptized and therefore should no longer be with his parents. The child is taken to the Papal States under the helpless gaze of his parents. The main conflict in the film, therefore, consists of the parents’ struggle to recover their son and how they constantly clash with arbitrary laws. But in parallel, it also reflects the child’s point of view as well as that of the antagonist: Pope Pius IX. As a result, no matter how unjust the situation may be, the viewer is allowed to empathize with and understand (which does not mean the same as siding with) all the motivations.
The film also uses this story to depict the dismantling of the Papal States and how that Pope led the Church to the end of an era of power and hegemony. In some ways, this film relates to one of the themes Bellocchio has explored in his cinema: the kidnapping of Aldo Moro (Esterno Notte, Good Morning, Night). In both, the deprivation of a person’s freedom marks a turning point in a country’s History. In another sense, there are also certain parallels with The Traitor. But it cannot be denied that this director values the power of the individual within society. Intentionally or not, for Bellocchio, it is individual actions that shape the course of power, whether political, ecclesiastical, or criminal.
And despite the density of what is being told here, the director does so with a measured pace, allowing the characters to breathe. Bellocchio succeeds in explaining all the aspects at stake in a very simple and humanistic manner, without sensationalism or grandiloquence. And he refrains from taking a specific stance, which opens up the necessary spaces for the viewer to reflect on what has been discussed.
The veteran director treats his audience with great respect by not imposing his views or letting his ego interfere. On the contrary, although this film reflects a clash of powers and cultures, it is handled in a way that avoids archetypal and simplistic solutions. This is what differentiates a film from a propaganda pamphlet: making the effort to set aside preconceived notions and trying to bring all points of view into play, whatever they may be. Bellocchio is a director capable of putting his ideology aside to tell the story of people who move within a gray morality and who handles conflicts with all the layers of complexity that exist. In a world so polarized where everyone seems to have everything absolutely clear, it’s not only difficult for the creator but also presents a challenge for the viewer.
The director’s craft is evident in how he uses his tools to involve the viewer in the story. He is a master at making a classicist and invisible use of the camera and editing (except for a few abstract and beautifully rare dream sequences used to visually convey the characters’ inner conflicts). This is purely narrative cinema where the entire mise-en-scène serves the story in the most efficient way possible.
For this film, the director once again relies on the spectacular, naturalistic, and sober cinematography of Francesco di Giacomo and the accompanying score by Fabio Massimo Capogrosso. He also counts on another regular collaborator to lead the cast: Fausto Russo Alesi, who brings great authenticity to his role as a disoriented father who must rise up and fight to reclaim his son. But those who truly shine are Enea Sala, who at a young age manages to convey the journey his character undergoes, and Paolo Pierobon with his chilling portrayal of Pius IX.
This doesn’t mean there aren’t brilliant staging ideas, such as an impressive use of verticality to reflect the disparity of social strata and powers, or to illustrate the stagnant and absurd hierarchy of many institutions. In some ways, Bellocchio is an aesthetic heir of neorealism, which is evident in his approach to the medium.
Kidnapped: The Abduction of Edgardo Mortara is another marvel from Bellocchio, who has been consistently delivering impressive work. When discussing him, one speaks of a director from whose work there is only much to learn, and this film is no exception.
