Vermiglio Review

Vermiglio is a subtle yet striking film that envelops the audience in its visually stunning, intimate portrayal of a small Northern Italian town during the closing days of World War II. Maura Delpero’s feature film made its way through the cacophony of awards season with quiet confidence, and once you experience it, the reasons for its impact become abundantly clear. Set in the town of Vermiglio in Trentino, 1944, the story revolves around the Graziadei family, whose tranquil and uneventful lives are disrupted by the arrival of Pietro, a Sicilian deserter. Pietro’s budding romance with Lucia sparks a marriage that changes not only their lives but also the fabric of the entire village.

Contrary to what one might expect, the film’s deliberate pacing is its strength. Rather than dragging, it invites us to immerse ourselves in the rhythms of life within this close-knit family, making their traditions, routines, and relationships feel like our own. Every scene is carefully crafted to draw the viewer further into this world, creating an experience that feels both intimate and universal. The Alpine backdrop is both breathtaking and oppressive, perfectly mirroring the constraints faced by the film’s characters — particularly its women. In 1944, opportunities for women were severely limited; education was often denied, and societal expectations focused squarely on marriage and motherhood. Through Delpero’s lens, we feel the weight of these constraints.

We ache with Ada, who is barred from continuing her education and forced to care for her siblings, sacrificing her own aspirations in pursuit of personal freedom. We fight alongside Lucia, a woman with limited prospects in the village, whose lack of conventional femininity and intellect has left her with few options. Pietro’s arrival offers her a glimpse of escape, only to thrust her into the complexities of shame and societal judgment. The journey through this tiny mountain village is a powerful meditation on independence, resilience, and heartbreak. Vermiglio beautifully captures the tension between the warmth of family traditions and the pain embedded within them. From the serene yet stifling mountain setting to the expressive faces of the Graziadei daughters, every frame exudes an emotional depth that lingers long after the credits roll.

Jane Campion encapsulated it perfectly in an open letter to Academy voters: “I loved all this and felt a deep trust in Delpero’s grip on life, the true drama of real life… Vermiglio is a gift.” Indeed, Vermiglio may not appeal to everyone. Its unhurried pace and use of a challenging dialect might deter viewers unaccustomed to subtitled films. Yet for those willing to embrace it, Vermiglio offers a profound and moving exploration of life’s beauty and pain — timeless in its relevance and deeply human.