VENICE 2021: Il Buco
VENICEFabulous and transfixing imagery aside, Il Buco is the epitome of patronising, art house grandiose. Michelangelo Frammartino's feature looks extraordinary, and Il Buco's cinematography and composition of image are utterly gorgeous to bear witness. Nevertheless, style is no guarantee for success, nor should it solely be relied on to infer such.
For an hour and a half – or, in other terms, the entire running time of Il Buco – director Frammartino chooses not to immobilise his feature with a clear voice, spoken word or narration otherwise. Aside from diegetic sound chatter and only a handful of spoken words, the natural ambience and sound fill this feature. Granted, on the surface, this would seem quite the experimental and sophisticated or elements. And, indeed on the surface, it does convey such a thought. However, when the substance of this feature is a pseudo existential conversation on man and nature, it becomes clear that this feature needs a lot more than artistic merit.
In its place are images – spectacular ones, as aforementioned – that proceed to craft a story; while well-achieved, the lack of compelling connection and immersion to attach oneself to the subject makes this an ordeal to sit through more than anything else. There are multiple issues that cause this, with one such example being director Frammartino's and cinematographer Renato Berta's decision to shoot such wide and removed aerial shots. The idea to create atmosphere and scale is accomplished but, in turn, constantly pushes the audience away from finding intimate immersion and connection – ultimately leading the audience to be a passive viewer and try to manipulate oneself into such false emotional weight the feature projects.
One such element that feels weirdly missing here, and that any other feature would be deemed variably as a negative, is a narration. A simplistic emotional and direct response from the images on screen protected in narrated poetry would go so far as to craft energy or even emotive direction. However, without it, the audience is left to fend for themselves in finding an element of interest and narrative direction.
Made harsher by such frustrating cinematic elements is the feature’s running time, which would not feel like a burden at just ninety minutes or so, but with the lacking points attributed above, Il Buco becomes a far harder watch than it ought to be within its first thirty minutes. Il Buco is an astonishingly burdensome and unneeded artistic bore that only propels the issue of highbrow artistic arthouse cinema alienating viewers and having that as a personality trait.
