Vermiglio (2024)
Genre:Â Drama, Historical, Romance
Director:Â Maura Delpero
Writer:Â Maura Delpero
Stars:Â Tommaso Ragno, Roberta Rovelli, Martina Scrinzi, Giuseppe De Domenico, Carlotta Gamba
Plot:Â In 1944, in the remote mountain village of Vermiglio, a deserter named Pietro seeks refuge with the family of the local teacher. As he falls in love with the teacher’s eldest daughter, the lives of everyone in the household are forever altered.
* * *
Sit down.
We have the same name.
And he’s even stronger than Dino.
Not true, Dino is stronger.
Dino is stronger than everyone.
Can you believe Pietro brought Attilio from Germany to here,
on his shoulders!
An angel sent by God.
Attilio, is it true that Pietro carried you
on his shoulders from Germany?
Not from Germany. Only for the last part, after his fall.
Come here.
From here…
to here.
The Lord put him on my child’s path.
He heard all my prayers.
I haven’t given you permission yet.
Couldn’t he have stayed overnight with us?
No, he has to stay in the hay barn.
The Germans might come and take him away.
Germans don’t come here anymore.
Attilio will take him food to the hay barn.
We can invite him for Christmas lunch.
Is it true he’s Sicilian?
Yes, look.
This is Sicily. He comes from here.
Look at all those oranges!
Be careful!
So many oranges…
There are lions too!
There are lions in Sicily.
No, that’s Africa.
Come on, it’s getting dirty. Let’s go. It’s late.
It’s so far away…
Pippo is here!
Run, Pippo the plane is flying over!
Dino! Pick me up. Show me!
It’s already passed.
When I grow up, I want to fly Pippo.
So when you see a light, you’ll drop a bomb!
Go to sleep!
Come soon though, I’m cold!
Come on, come!
Wait for me!
Thank you so much…
I’m making you a nice jumper, so you won’t catch cold.
The carpenter will give you wood to chop,
and he’ll feed you.
The goats belong to my brother, the schoolteacher.
But you can milk them if you’re hungry.
My nieces.
Lucia.
Pietro.
What are you doing?
I’m praying.
What’s in your hand?
Do you always have to copy me?
I promise…
I will no longer go behind the wardrobe.
Look, there’s the soldier!
Stop!
Pietro!
Hello!
Pietrin!
Come on, Pietrin, let’s go!
Pietrin, come back!
Let’s go!
Carry me on your shoulders!
Come on Lucia, hurry up!
Get down.
Let’s go!
Hurry up.
We live over there.
Don’t tell anyone about the sweet…
Only cowards run from a war.
Just drink and shut up!
Always stick your nose in things.
If only they were all cowards; there would be no more wars.
Cowardice is a relative concept.
Teacher! I didn’t go to school like you.
There are words I don’t understand.
Then come to school, Rigo.
I’ve started adult lessons again, on Saturday afternoons.
They didn’t run from anything. They fought their war.
They ran from the Germans.
I’d run too if they caught me! I wouldn’t stay and work for them.
Tied to their mummies’ apron strings,
those southern boys!
Not just the southerners. Look at Cesira’s boy, Attilio.
Running away from a war is for cowards.
Easy for you to say, you were spared this war and the last one.
What do you know about it?
I don’t like hiding two fugitives.
I say spread the word in the valley.
No one says a word, is that clear?
They’re our children.
They didn’t go to war because they wanted to!
Out of the way!
Virginia’s coming through!
The water’s freezing, isn’t it?
Is the bicycle yours?
No, I took it.
Want to come for a ride?
I’m going to the mill.
No.
Sure?
To Saint Lucia!
When there isn’t a man at home, the children run amok…
Look at Virginia…
She looks like a man herself with that hair.
I’m going to kill you, Virginia!
What is with this baby?
He’s coughing too much.
Yes, he is.
My Attilio…
He has a warm home, but he’s always up at the hay barn with Pietro.
It’s like he wants to stay in the war.
The wine is ours.
Dino, what are you doing?
You idiot!
Show the soldiers some respect!
He’s always so hard on Dino.
He wanted a son that was like him. But Dino is his own person.
Still, he’s a good boy.
Saint Lucia is near,
Children, go to bed,
Bring out the flour
And keep quiet
She comes bearing gifts
And sweet treats.
What did Saint Lucia bring you?
Two tangerines.
I got an aeroplane with a propeller!
Quiet!
“Epistolary”.
What a difficult word!
It could be…
a letter or a postcard.
A message that talks…
E-pi-sto…
…about facts…
…la-ry…
or feelings.
Epistolary…
Our soldiers, for example,
write to us from the front.
Anita?
We get a letter from my brother.
“We received”.
We received.
We received a letter from my brother.
He says we don’t have to worry.
But my mum cried.
She cried because she was happy.
One can cry happy tears, too.
Rodolfo?
My daddy went to war.
Mum says he will write, but this epistolary letter never comes.
Now that you’re older,
you have to help your mum.
She can’t do everything on her own.
He’s drawn a heart for you.
He could have written something.
He drew instead, because he’s a romantic.
He drew something because he’s unliterate.
It’s illiterate!
It’s “un-“!
We’ll ask Daddy tomorrow.
If I’m right, you owe me three!
Who told you he can’t write?
He’s one of daddy’s new students. I saw him.
Maybe he’s a romantic anyway.
He’s only gone back to school to brush up.
I am sorry.
You know I’d come for your children any time, day or night.
The “strangolìn” is a vile beast.
If God wants to take back this child too, there is nothing we can do.
Luckily, she’ll have another one soon.
You didn’t say anything to Adele, did you?
Nothing.
Let her have some hope.
We know what he’s got.
Your sister healed two children with cabbage last year.
Three or four leaves held tightly
with a bit of linen and you’re done.
Sprinkle me with hyssop And I will be pure
Wash me And I will be whiter than snow
Eternal rest grant
Unto them, O Lord
And let perpetual light
And let perpetual light
Shine upon them.
Dino, is he really a little angel
flying up to heaven?
How can he do that? Does he have wings?
With his soul.
What’s that?
I don’t know.
Lord Jesus, born to the Virgin,
today we celebrate your birth.
Feed our family
and our brothers at the front.
Help those weaker than us,
and help us share what we have with them.
Watch over those
in heaven
our little ones,
Flavio and Giovanni.
Bless the fraternity gathered at this table.
Amen.
Drink, that will warm you up.
Can I show the nativity to Pietro?
Just a minute, then straight back to the table.
Come on, let me show you!
Look at the barn.
It’s beautiful! Dino made it with his wood pieces.
Here are Saint Joseph
and Mary.
There’s the donkey and there’s the cow.
Here is the pine cone.
The sheep…
He’s great with kids.
The candle…
Like Dad.
The berries… Grass…
We always put the little brother on the straw, like the Baby Jesus.
The youngest brother.
But this year he died.
I know.
I’m sorry.
Me too.
Fair
Flavia
The epistolary genre
For me, the epistolary genre can also be writing little notes.
For example, a soldier gave a little note to my sister.
He doesn’t know how to write yet, but the note
helped him express his feelings.
“They were young, strong
and they died.
They came with their guns…”
We’ll stop there.
Pietro,
would you like to comment on the poem?
It reminds me of…
my friend.
Ciro.
Because he was young,
he was strong,
but…
they killed him anyway.
It was decimation day.
And it was his turn.
He fell to the ground beside me.
I had my eyes closed, but I knew it was him
because I felt his hand
fall on my shoe.
And…
How would you describe
a soldier’s state of mind?
It’s like…
You’re alive, but…
not really.
Ciro was next to me.
It could have been me and not him.
It’s as if you are yourself, but not really anymore.
We make crowns for our dead siblings with these.
Children love elderberries.
That’s why we put them on their grave.
I wonder if they can hear us.
Giovanni Graziadei
Flavio Graziadei
Are you sure?
Now, he has wings to go to heaven.
Dino, when is Saint Lucia coming back?
In a year.
Is that a long time?
A bit.
Lift me up.
I’ll ask the Saint for the same plane.
My sacrifices for Jesus Christ
I lay down in chicken poop with my head to the side.
If I go behind the wardrobe again, I will lie face down in the poop.
Stroke me with the feather.
I know where Dad hides his secrets.
What secrets?
Cigarettes.
They’re not secrets. He smokes all day.
They are secrets to him, because he locks them in a drawer
and he puts the key under the carpet.
Lucia, close the window. I’m cold.
Another love note!
Let me see!
Pietro and Lucia
He’s learning to write.
What do you talk about?
He doesn’t like talking much.
It’s that he speaks Sicilian,
no one can understand him.
I understand him,
but he doesn’t say much.
Like Attilio.
Men who come back from the war
have secrets.
It’s like their tongues have been cut off.
So what do you two do?
We hold hands.
Very tight.
Virginia can ride with no hands!
Look!
Do you know how children are made?
We have to get married.
All right.
She’s a sensitive child.
Her exercise book is a mess,
but she has a sharp mind.
She’s a lot like me.
She’s the one to send to school.
Ada would like to carry on too.
I already felt so sorry for Lucia.
We can’t send two children away to school.
Lucia was unlucky…
A war is nobody’s fault.
She’ll marry well.
Besides, she’s not a town girl.
She needs open skies.
She’s a mountain goat,
like me,
when I had good legs.
Ada works hard, but it’s not for her.
And you need her here.
Come on, show me!
Come on!
Tell me your punishments, I’ll show you what I learnt with Dad.
We studied a composer, his name is spelt “Chopin”, but we say “Sho-pun”.
An unlucky man.
He was ill.
And he fell in love with a writer who drove him crazy.
The poor man.
That’s why his music is romantic.
It’s your turn now.
Tell me your punishments.
Well, I can’t sin anymore
because the next punishment will be too great.
What is it?
The next one
is to eat chicken poop.
Really?
Can’t you just say ten Hail Marys?
It’s gross!
So behave yourself!
Stroke my legs with the feather.
I’m tired.
And I can’t breathe under the covers.
I’ll give you two.
Three! Don Giulio always gives you plenty.
I only get the ones with the crooked cross.
Come on, get under there.
I did both legs.
Do you have a communion wafer?
No.
He didn’t come today.
A wish I have for the future
Elio, have you finished?
Yes.
“I want the war to end
and for my cow to make
the beautiful milk she uses to make.”
“Used to make”.
Mariot.
“I want my nephew Sandro
to come back from war, but not blind like me.”
In Italian, Mariot.
Pietro.
“I want…”
to marry your daughter.
Put this one on, it’s the best one!
No, that one’s better!
This white one.
Get on it!
No, this one with the hood.
Let’s give her a crown, too.
It’s so dark.
I’ll have to take it in a bit. I was rounder when I was young.
Sicilian brides must be so beautiful.
They wear white, I think.
What nonsense! White is for rich people.
But who am I getting married to?
To me!
You’re too short.
Marry us!
You can’t. You can’t marry two people.
They’ll stand close together.
You can’t, Ada said so!
Lucia is getting married.
Are you happy?
I don’t know.
Would you like to get married?
No.
If I have children,
I won’t be able to go to church for forty days.
That is the time your body needs
to cleanse itself after childbirth.
You can pray at home.
I’d like to carry on with school,
but Dad always says you have to excel.
I don’t know if he will let me.
Do you know what will happen to you in bed tomorrow?
Couldn’t you ask Mum?
Aren’t you afraid?
No, I’ll find out.
It’s the bride’s duty.
I, Lucia, take you, Pietro, as my husband
and I promise to be faithful to you
and to honour you every day of my life.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Someone has prepared something for you.
“Of all things That the Lord can give us,
The most beautiful Is a bride at the altar!
The table…”
The door!
“The door opens as he comes from work
The table laid With grace and decorum
And if all goes well And everything works
Life will give them children
Then all grooms can sing in unison
And thank the Lord For such a blessing!”
Thank you!
Long live the bride and groom!
Let’s try to get a good first shot!
Then we can have lunch.
Come on!
That’s it, get closer…
Attilio, right next to Aunt Cesira. Good!
Look towards the camera, and smile.
You too, Teacher! It’s not often you marry off a daughter!
One, two, three!
Music!
Long live the bride and groom!
Virginia…
Come on, let’s dance!
Virginia, leave people alone!
Cheers!
Virginia, I will beat you black and blue!
Are you pleased you did the toast with Dad?
Virginia!
You’ll catch a cold.
My mum will kill me if she smells smoke on my blouse.
No.
Why are you laughing?
Because I like the way you look at me.
I’ve found my fur coat.
Is that nice?
The best thing in the world.
We mustn’t.
Yes, you can. Look.
She doesn’t like it because she’s a goat.
But us women do.
My dad smokes a lot.
You can steal cigarettes from him then.
And we can smoke them.
We mustn’t.
Long live the bride and groom!
Let the war end!
What will the bride eat On the first day?
Partridge!
What will the bride eat On the second day?
Two turtle doves And a partridge!
Read more slowly.
Page 25.
Read slowly and follow the verses.
One more time.
All right.
“For a moment I was in my village.
In my home, nothing had changed.
Tired,
I returned, as if from a journey.
Tired…”
It’s a friend of Don Giulio’s uncle, who went to Milan.
It’s exceptional.
Weren’t your two records enough?
I tighten my belt all day long. I count the children’s potatoes.
But this is food for the soul.
Food for the soul?
We have children to feed.
The ones that are here,
and the ones to come.
Don’t let them drop like flies.
Don’t be angry,
it’ll upset the baby.
“Under the hot light
of the burning sun,
the man languishes,
the flock languishes,
and the pine tree burns.”
Which season might this be…
when the shepherd boy has a nap under the tree?
Spring!
Summer!
That’s right.
The shepherd boy is all hot.
Now pay attention.
The turtledove is coming.
Did you hear the cuckoo?
The goldfinch sings.”
and the goldfinch.”
Do you understand
how exceptional he is?
Each violin
is a feeling.
A wind.
An animal.
Four seasons.
Four sonnets.
Four concertos.
One for each season.
On this day of newfound peace,
we give thanks to Our Lady of the Snows
who has always protected our village.
To Her we sing
the joy of the end
of this painful war.
Drink, Mariot, drink!
Drink, Sicilian!
The war is over for everyone!
Welcome back.
Thank you!
Sicilian, did you see my Sandro has returned?
And you? When are you going to Sicily?
It’s so far away…
He can go now and he’ll be back soon.
Go down now. The wait is hard.
So hard.
Maybe we could go back to our bed while he is away.
No, it’s the marriage bed now.
And he won’t be away for long.
He’s afraid he won’t be back in time for the baby’s birth.
But Daddy told him he should leave now
because there are the Red Cross trucks.
What if he’s late for the baptism?
That can be done later. Babies don’t sin.
And Aunt Cesira put her hand and ear on Lucia’s belly
and said there’s a while to go yet.
That he should go and visit his mum, otherwise she’ll think he’s dead.
Like she thought her Attilio was dead.
Imagine how happy his mum will be when she sees him again.
You know, Attilio isn’t dead, but he looks dead.
Pietro looked dead too when he arrived. Do you remember?
He became happy again with Lucia.
Will he see his father in Sicily too?
What are you listening to?
When I grow up and go to war, I’ll come back to see my father.
The war’s over. Go to sleep!
Don’t worry. I’ll write you a letter as soon as I get there.
A long letter written by me.
Don’t be sad, or your eyes won’t shine.
Come on Dino, you have to go!
Bye, Pietro!
Go shoot lions in Sicily!
Bring us oranges!
Bring tangerines!
He told me he’d write as soon as he arrived.
These things take time, be patient.
I’ll bring it to your father myself when it comes.
I promise.
My child, I remember when you were little.
I watched you grow up.
And now here you are, head over heels in love.
Be patient!
Bartolini, Maria.
Well done.
Daldoss, Rodolfo.
You passed.
Graziadei, Flavia.
Top of the class.
Next year you’ll go to boarding school in Trento.
You need to be neater, though.
Or you’ll see how the nuns beat you!
Graziadei, Ada.
You’ve been very diligent.
I’ve admired your effort.
More than satisfactory in every subject,
and especially good in home economics.
Now, I’m sure you know that to carry on, one has to excel,
and that, as school gets harder that might bring disappointment.
School is a valuable lesson
because it teaches us our limits.
Your school career ends here,
with very satisfying results.
Graziadei, Dino.
Growing up is about more than drinking wine.
It’s about taking responsibility.
That includes your studies.
I thought I hated her
and she disgusted me.
But now
I pray in penance.
It’s the right decision.
She is very clever.
And…
I’m just so-so.
Nothing’s special about me.
Why did you have to do that to him again?
My son is a pupil like any other,
and he has to prove himself even more,
because he is the teacher’s son.
Is it his fault that he’s the teacher’s son?
Giving him the diploma would have made him happier at work.
You don’t need a piece of paper to work in the fields.
You do if you don’t want to feel ashamed in front of others.
Maybe something has happened to him.
Too much time has passed.
Do you know how many letters get lost?
Remember with Attilio?
He wrote and we received nothing.
Give this child a barley coffee and a piece of bread.
Sit down.
Could they have caught him?
It really is over, isn’t it?
This is the last one, I swear.
Doesn’t count.
Had that one already!
Help me.
Cute?
Next time, you’ll bring me two.
He’s fine.
Go give Mum a kiss.
A beautiful boy with all his little fingers,
hands and feet in the right places.
She always has difficult deliveries. Poor woman.
Give her the flowers, Dino.
These are for you.
Goodbye, Aldo, thank you!
I think this one has got your strength…
Let me through!
He should grow up strong.
Hopefully Aldo!
He looks like Giovanni.
He seems quiet.
He’s really chubby.
Look how nice.
My Dino gave me a gift.
They’re not nice, they are stolen.
What do you mean?
It was a nice thought.
The flowers are from the Marchi’s garden.
Your son steals from the neighbours and you say it’s nice?
I didn’t steal them. I cut the ones on our side.
If there is one thing I have taught my children, it’s honesty.
You’re making excuses for a thief!
Don’t you call my Dino a thief.
I know why you’re so angry.
Because after ten births, you’ve never given me a single flower.
You must still be half-mad from the birth
to disrespect me in front of my children.
Go to sleep, little one
With your hand under the pillow,
With the pillow over your hand,
You can sleep until tomorrow…
Have you ever seen the bear?
I’ve told you so many times.
Go to sleep, you’ll see he’ll be right back.
When he goes up to the roof, he stays there for ages.
He went up to the roof because he’s angry with daddy.
Did you see how he gave him a hard time?
I think he goes up to the roof because he’s in love with Virginia.
They say that Virginia and her mother are going to Chile
because they’re starving.
But where is this Chile?
Far away.
Dino!
What do you want?
Can you tell me the story of the bear?
I’ve already told you so many times.
Please!
I was on my way up to CÃ della Mosa.
I heard this noise.
I thought it was a deer. I turned
and it was the bear.
So I ran away
and as I ran,
I fell.
I turned around and the bear spared me.
Dino!
Dino, can I turn around?
No, there’s no room.
I’m scared of the bear.
OK, turn around.
Is it true you’re not scared of anything?
I’m scared of female bears.
And of Daddy?
Are you afraid of him?
No, not Daddy.
Is it true you’re in love with Virginia?
Don’t be silly.
Is it true that Virginia smokes?
No, it’s not true.
Is it true that Virginia is going to Chile?
Virginia isn’t going anywhere. She’s staying here.
Dino?
Will you make me an aeroplane like the one Saint Lucia gave me?
Do you know how to?
We haven’t received any letters from Pietro yet.
It’s been too long.
Don’t worry.
Everything is still in turmoil. The post is slow.
Please, take care of the child.
May the Lord protect you.
Write when you get there.
Put that suitcase over there. It’ll fit.
Put the hen on as well.
It will get some air.
I’ll write when I get there.
We’ll be waiting for news.
Deliver to the parish priest of Galati, Sicily
For Pietro Riso, from Lucia Graziadei Riso
“The man was killed instantly.
Anna Pennisi will be sentenced under Article 587,
which limits the penalty for voluntary manslaughter
to a maximum of seven years
for anyone who causes the death of their spouse
in the act of discovering
their illegitimate carnal relationship.
The Sicilian bigamist Pietro Riso,
married in Galati with Anna Pennisi,
had in fact remarried, without her knowledge,
in our Trentino region, in the village of Vermiglio,
with Lucia Graziadei.”
Name and surname, to shame us throughout the valley…
“When he returned to Galati,
Pennisi killed him at point-blank range
to defend her honour.”
She rushed into it.
You girls have to be careful.
Your sister was rash.
“Play at the mill and you’ll get flour on your hands.”
To think it was you who brought him to us…
Did you really not know anything?
Nothing.
He was your friend. You ran away together
and he didn’t tell you about his wife?
You don’t talk much in a war.
Who’s going to want her now?
She was so beautiful!
The scoundrel left her with nothing but eyes to cry with.
I think Pietro was in love with Lucia.
He didn’t even want to go to Sicily…
Maybe he went to Sicily to tell his wife he was in love with Lucia.
In love?
Abandoning a wife!
With a baby about to be born?
Some love that is!
I am sure Pietro meant no harm.
I knew him.
You knew him so well, you didn’t even know he was married.
Your cousin with a foreigner.
She should have married one of ours.
None of ours helped me.
It’s thanks to him that I’m alive.
If he’d left his rifle here, she might not have shot him.
What’s all this about flour?
That we mustn’t be like Lucia.
The mill is the man.
Would you like to be a man?
No.
They can marry and work too, like Daddy.
They can even marry twice.
They can’t.
Yes, it’s called being a “bigamist”.
Yes, but then you get shot.
I would like to be a priest.
So you hear everyone’s sins and give out punishments?
No, it’s because when you talk,
everyone listens to you.
Lucia!
That is the cow’s dirty water…
Use the masculine form.
Put an ‘o’ at the end, and if it’s a girl change it to ‘a’.
She scares me.
She just sits in a corner like a cat before it dies.
She only sleeps with the cow. She stinks!
I’ve got to find a way to get her indoors, it’s almost time!
She doesn’t want to be alone.
It’s hard to sleep alone.
I know it well.
She didn’t see he was a scoundrel.
She dressed up as Saint Lucia so often, she went blind herself.
One more mouth to feed. One less man to work.
She’s ruined.
What is she going to do?
Gino’s daughter went to town to look after rich children.
Lucia can go as well.
She can come back with money and buy her own cows.
Nobody will take her with a child.
They want girls or spinsters.
Who will keep her baby if she goes to the town?
I would struggle with two little ones.
Without a man, the wheels start to come off…
You can’t keep to a straight course…
Lucky you have your Dino,
who’s becoming a man.
My Attilio came back all wrong.
He’s home, but he’s no longer himself.
The war turned men into idiots.
I’m sorry.
What are you doing?
Go away!
Come out! What are you doing? Let me in!
Mum!
Flavia isn’t coming out of the toilet!
Why are you just standing there?
Go get the milk.
Can we have a lesson together?
I started to copy the poem you gave me.
I will read it to you.
“The tree to which You held out your tiny hand,
the green pomegranate tree with beautiful vermillion flowers…”
I have something to tell you.
But I don’t know if I can.
It’s a secret.
Is it the truth?
Yes.
Then you can tell me.
I’ve got blood in my knickers.
It’s the truth.
When it gets dirty, you flip it.
Lucia, push!
Come on girl!
You need to try harder!
Push, Lucia!
Lucia, push!
Push.
She isn’t pushing enough!
She doesn’t want to.
Push!
Push! Come on girl, push.
Come on Lucia. He’s coming!
Come on, you can do it!
I see the head!
Good girl!
Quick!
My dear, I don’t have milk for them both.
Hello.
Lucia…
Dino!
Dino!
Ada.
She’s crying!
Are you crying because he died or because he was married?
What kind of a question is that? She doesn’t even know.
At least she’s crying now.
No, she’s not crying.
It’s just water coming out of her eyes.
I don’t want to leave anymore.
I want to stay here and help Lucia with her Antonia.
You have to carry on with school. Dad has decided.
I can carry on here, with him.
Daddy only knows how to teach little kids.
They let her out for an hour
between three and four o’clock.
In the square with the bar.
It’s the second street on the right.
They didn’t make it in time.
I’m sorry.
You came all the way here by yourself?
Salvo!
Salvo!
Come on!
Mum, the lady has sad eyes.
Leave her alone. She’s a widow.
Do you have children?
That’s lucky.
Hello.
Give me a drink!
Teacher!
From Flavia!
Antonia.
Hello.
Mama has to go to town to work.
But she’ll be back soon.
