La Casa dell’Amore (2020), a documentary directed by Luca Ferri, explores the life of Bianca Dolce Miele, a transgender prostitute living in Milan. Through this film, Ferri embarks on a poignant examination of human connection, the search for intimacy, and the subtleties of daily existence. The documentary, which was showcased in the Forum section of the 70th Berlinale, is the final installment of Ferri's "Trilogia dell'Appartamento" (Apartment Trilogy), a series that began in 2018 with Dulcinea and Pierino. These films all explore the relationship between people and the spaces they inhabit, focusing on individuals living within the confines of their apartments, offering a stark, close-up view of their lives.
Bianca is a 39-year-old transgender woman who lives in a modest apartment in the northern outskirts of Milan. She makes a living as a prostitute, hosting clients in her home. The apartment, bathed in the warm, flickering glow of candles (due to the lack of electric lighting), becomes a space of intimacy and refuge not only for Bianca but also for a circle of people who come to visit. As Bianca carefully applies her makeup, selects her clothes, and arranges the space, she simultaneously navigates a profound emotional landscape. Her life is intertwined with that of her partner, Natasha, who lives in Brazil, and the film explores their long-distance relationship through repeated phone calls, painting a picture of Bianca’s emotional world. Bianca’s life, marked by routines, habits, and unexpected events, unfolds within the four walls of her apartment. This space serves as a microcosm for the broader themes of love, solitude, and human connection that permeate the film. Although Bianca is constantly surrounded by the fleeting presence of her clients and friends, there is an overarching sense of waiting - waiting for Natasha’s return, for the connection that transcends the transactional nature of her work.
.jpg)
Luca Ferri’s documentary approach is marked by meticulous attention to detail, both in terms of the visual composition and the thematic exploration. The use of digital technology marks a shift from the 16mm film of Dulcinea and the VHS format of Pierino, but Ferri maintains the 4:3 aspect ratio that he has consistently used throughout his trilogy. This framing is especially suited to the confined, intimate spaces that serve as the backdrop for his characters. The apartment itself becomes a character, as much a part of the narrative as Bianca or her clients. Ferri’s exploration of space extends beyond mere physicality; it probes the psychological and emotional boundaries of the characters. Through his careful framing and the deliberate pacing of the film, Ferri allows the audience to dwell in these intimate, often uncomfortable spaces. The use of the digital format, with its crispness and immediacy, contrasts with the analog elements present in the apartment, such as Bianca’s handwritten appointment book and old mobile phones. These objects, along with the dimly lit interior and occasional sounds of Bianca’s answering machine, contribute to the film’s atmosphere, creating a sense of time that feels both contemporary and nostalgic.
The film’s title, La Casa dell’Amore (The House of Love), might initially seem contradictory given Bianca’s profession, but it is deeply fitting. While Bianca does engage in physical intimacy with her clients, the film makes clear that the love explored in this space is not just sexual. The love Bianca shares with Natasha, her love for her friends, and even her care for her pet cat are all part of the emotional landscape that Ferri captures. There is tenderness in Bianca’s interactions with others, a warmth that transcends the transactional nature of her work. In one poignant moment, Bianca refers to the convenience of her location, joking that her home is "more convenient than an Autogrill," a roadside rest stop. This remark is emblematic of the dry humor and maternal care she extends to her clients, many of whom seek emotional connection rather than just physical satisfaction. Bianca’s role in their lives is far more complex than simply being a service provider; she offers them a form of companionship and understanding. The film also touches on themes of acceptance and human connection through its subtle references to religious and cultural ideas. Early in the film, a mysterious figure references the Bible and the figure of the prostitute, drawing parallels between Bianca’s life and the stories of biblical forgiveness. Later, a client discusses the tragic life of Italian actress Lilli Carati, who fell into adult films due to personal struggles. These references enrich the film’s exploration of Bianca’s character, emphasizing the broader societal forces at play.
.jpg)
The apartment that Bianca inhabits is not just a physical space but a symbolic one. The confined, almost claustrophobic setting of her home serves as both a sanctuary and a prison. It is a place where Bianca performs the emotional and physical labor of her life, and yet, it is also a space where she waits for something more meaningful. The apartment is filled with objects that reveal aspects of her life: old furniture, books, and personal items that tie her to her past. These objects, as much as the people who enter and exit the space, contribute to the film’s rich tapestry of meaning. In this way, La Casa dell’Amore fits into the larger thematic framework of Ferri’s "Trilogia dell’Appartamento." In Dulcinea and Pierino, the apartments were rigid and static, symbolizing the psychological isolation of the characters. In contrast, Bianca’s apartment is fluid, open to the outside world in a way that the previous spaces were not. Yet, despite this openness, there is a clear boundary between the inside and the outside; the outside world never fully intrudes into the sanctuary Bianca has created for herself and her clients.
One of the most striking aspects of Ferri’s filmmaking is his attention to the objects that populate the spaces of his characters. In La Casa dell’Amore, objects take on a significant role in the narrative. From the vintage items in Bianca’s apartment to the symbolic objects like bottles of champagne and cigarettes, Ferri imbues these things with meaning. They are not merely props but integral parts of the story, each one carrying its own emotional weight. The objects in the film serve as extensions of the characters’ lives, from Bianca’s old cell phones to the stuffed animals that fill her space. These items contribute to the sense of intimacy in the film, and Ferri’s framing of them adds a layer of eroticism and tenderness. As in his previous works, Ferri treats objects with a reverence that highlights their significance in the lives of the characters. The objects are not mere background details; they are part of the emotional landscape that defines the world of the film.
La Casa dell’Amore is a profound and tender exploration of love, solitude, and the complex relationships between people and the spaces they inhabit. Through Bianca’s life and her apartment, Ferri invites the viewer into a world that is both intimate and expansive, a space where love takes many forms and where the boundaries between inside and outside, between the self and others, are constantly shifting. In its quiet, contemplative pace, the film demands the viewer’s active participation. It is a meditation on human connection, on the ways we seek and offer affection, and on the delicate balance between love and loneliness. As the final chapter of Ferri’s "Trilogia dell’Appartamento," La Casa dell’Amore stands as a poignant and thought-provoking reflection on the power of space, the complexity of human relationships, and the quiet grace of those who live in the margins of society.
Image credits: YouTube
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment