Disney has a lot to answer for.
Any knowledge of Pinocchio that American viewers possess is based entirely on Uncle Walt’s 1940 animated version, which — while admittedly a family-friendly classic — took serious liberties with Italian author Carlo Collodi’s 1883 novel (a book which, alas, I’m sure very few members of the previous several generations have read).
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| Much to the amusement of the Blue Fairy (Alida Baldari Calabria), every lie told by Pinocchio (Federico Ielapi) — each one a desperate attempt to undo a previous fib — makes his nose grow even longer. |
Director/co-scripter Matteo Garrone’s new live-action adaptation is much closer to its source. That’s merely one (massive) point in its favor; Garrone’s film also is gorgeously lensed by cinematographer Nicolai Brüel, and further blessed with truly astonishing work by makeup artist Dalia Colli, prosthetic makeup designer Mark Coulier, and hair designer Francesco Pegoretti.
The latter trio absolutely deserve their Academy Award nomination, and — if they don’t win — there is no justice in the world.
It’s almost impossible to distinguish where human characters yield to animals and puppet work; the blend is flawless. And breathtaking.
Don’t for a moment assume that their cinematic magic solely concerns the stringless wooden puppet carved by Geppetto (Roberto Benigni) from a magical chunk of wood. This saga is laden with all manner of human-size creatures: a canine coachman resplendent in regal white; a quartet of grim, black-clad rabbit undertakers; a brooding, cranky gorilla judge; bickering owl and crow doctors; and a green-skinned grasshopper.
And a snail. With a massive shell, and a tendency to leave a truly disgusting trail of slime in her wake.
Garrone and his makeup team painstakingly based all these individuals on Enrico Mazzanti’s illustrations in Collodi’s book, and the accuracy is stunning. The result is a film that displays a dazzling sense of wonder: movie magic in the true sense of the term.
To be sure, the story focuses on — and is driven by — 9-year-old Federico Ielapi’s performance as the title character, his dazzling, oak-grained makeup meticulous applied by hand. As Pinocchio’s saga proceeds, his face and limbs begin to look worn, even chipped in spots. Indeed, we tend to forget that he is being played by a human boy, so persuasive is his (deliberately) clumsy and lopsided movements, as if he’s never quite able to manage limbs joined by pins at knees, elbows and shoulders.
With very few exceptions, most of what we watch is produced “in camera,” as opposed to CGI trickery. That’s also quite impressive, particularly these days.
So:
Geppetto, impoverished and near starvation, eagerly accepts the aforementioned magical stump as a hand-me-down, when its original owner — a carpenter — becomes terrified by the wooden block’s apparent sentience. Geppetto intends to craft a puppet that he’ll sell to the traveling Great Marionette Theatre run by the imposing Mangiafuoco (Gigi Proietti). But the closer Geppetto gets to completion, the more a latent fatherly devotion kicks in; he names his creation Pinocchio, and treats him like a son.
Not that Pinocchio deserves such affection. He’s an obnoxious, spiteful and selfish little brat: no surprise, since he skipped any sort of formative stage when he would have been taught life’s kinder, gentler qualities.
The trusting, kind-hearted Geppetto is easily gulled by this rebellious child. Words of warning come solely from Grasshopper (Davide Marotta) — something of a “house spirit” — who cautions that disobedient children inevitably come to a bad end. Pinocchio naturally ignores this advice.
Even so, it’s important to recognize that Pinocchio isn’t deliberately mean-spirited; he simply doesn’t know better. Even when trying to be good, he’s easily led astray while being tricked, kidnapped and chased by a colorful assortment of bandits, villains and ne’er-do-wells. Ielapi’s forlorn and piteous expressions — even through all that makeup — are heartbreaking.
(On a passing note, be sure to watch this film in its original Italian, with subtitles; the English dubbing removes far too much of stars’ verbal nuances.)
Pinocchio’s subsequent adventures are somewhat episodic, albeit linked via Grasshopper and a few other ongoing characters. The boy ditches school at first opportunity, initially to take in the wonders of Mangiafuoco’s Great Marionette Theatre; subsequent encounters prove more hazardous, particularly when he falls in with the manipulative Cat (Rocco Papaleo) and Fox (Massimo Ceccherini), both of them shiveringly creepy.
Garrone and co-scripter Massimo Ceccherini don’t shy away from Pinocchio’s grim handling by Cat and Fox: a horrific tableau that you’ll not soon forget.
The little puppet fares much better in the company of the patient and ever-loyal Blue Fairy, introduced as a young girl (Alida Baldari Calabria) and later — quite magically — transformed into an even wiser adult (Marine Vacth). Pinocchio’s initial visit with the Blue Fairy teaches him the first important lesson, when his nose begins to grow (one of the rare CGI effects) as he tells a string of self-defensive lies.
By this point, frantic with worry, Geppetto has begun to comb the countryside and coastal ports in search of his missing son; this proves hazardous in its own right, as we’ll eventually see.
Benigni has a tendency to overact, and anybody who remembers his Oscar-winning performance in 1997’s Life Is Beautiful will recognize many of his signature mannerisms here. Fortunately, Garrone clearly knows how to control his adult star; Geppetto remains sympathetic, and never quite becomes a Benigni caricature.
Pinocchio’s final adventure is set in motion by Lucignolo (Alessio Di Domenicantonio), a wayward little boy who extols the fun to be had at the Land of Toys, where children can play all day without being bothered by schools or adults. This enchanted place is supervised by a cheerful Coachman (Nino Scardina), who — proving once again that ill-advised actions have consequences — isn’t nearly as benign as his jolly features suggest.
All of these fantastical realms — Mangiafuoco’s Marionette Theater, the Land of Toys, the Field of Miracles, the Blue Fairy’s dilapidated palatial estate, Geppetto’s humble workshop and so many others — are brought to vivid life by production designer Dimitri Capuani.
Dario Marianelli’s lyrical orchestral score deftly enhances this story’s emotional impact.
The overall effect evokes a sort of messy, boisterous alternate reality: very much in the imaginative mold of Terry Gilliam’s Time Bandits, Adventures of Baron Munchausen and The Brothers Grimm.
The look of Garron’s film notwithstanding, our involvement rises or falls on the degree to which we bond with Pinocchio. Ielapi’s soulful performance easily wins our hearts and minds; every time Pinocchio succumbs to temptation, we hope — this time, please! — that he’ll finally learn his lesson.
It’s quite a journey, and one that’ll be adored by lovers of well-crafted fantasy.
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