Paolo Franchi’s DOVE NON HO MAI ABITATO (WHERE I’VE NEVER LIVED) is a melodrama that, although it skates on thin ice in terms of sympathy for its wonderfully privileged characters, retains an emotional core and sweet sympathy that draws you in as a viewer.
Emmanuelle Devos plays Francesca, returning from Paris, where she lives with her husband and daughter, to her family home in Turin. There she must deal with her overbearing architect father, Manfredi (a wonderfully humorous Giulio Brogi). Rude and dismissive of the family life she chose over architectural design talent, Manfredi has Francesca work with Massimo () on one of the firm’s projects. After some initial stand-offishness, an emotional bond clearly begins to blossom.
Although the film has a melodramatic pitch, the two central characters are well established despite the sparsity of explicit backstory. The central emotion of restrained passion, welling to the point of not wishing to miss opportunities to live at your fullest is best captured by the excellent Emmanuelle Devos. Francesca could easily come across as selfish and totally lacking in self awareness, but Devos brings a elegant humility to her role. Fabrizio Gifuni’s Massimo also shows great skill conveying a warm humour and kindness hiding behind a haughtily arrogant professional demeanour. Their connection is, indeed, an emotional space they have not ‘lived’ in as the title implies, and Franchi constructs everything to make sure this romance appears new to both.
The English translation of the title may even lose some of the craft of the Italian original in portraying these character motivations. The use of the verb ‘abitare’ is notable, arguably indicating mere occupation of a place, a dwelling. The more vibrant and florid ‘vivere’, to live and be alive, is the very thing Massimo and Francesca seem to have lacked before their meeting.
The film certainly loses momentum as it sets up the final motions of the story, a narratively-driven pump of the brakes removing the central relationship’s gentle progression. It is also hard to feel sympathy when most of the characters seem to have a luxuriously cosseted existence. LOST IN TRANSLATION is an English-language reference, with a similar central emotional conceit, that manages to overcome this latter issue. Twinkly piazza shots of Turin also evoke Woody Allen‘s work that has had the similar criticisms levelled. Franchi’s film overcomes this, but in a much more magniloquent manner than those touchstones did.
It is a testament to the acting work and musical score that WHERE I’VE NEVER LIVED sweeps you along with it’s sonorous sentiments and aureate approach.