by Kristen DiLemnoIn the stark halls of an Italian monastery, selfhood and spirituality are locked in a silent battle. Directed by Saverio Costanzo, In Memoria Di Me follows a group of young men encouraged to lose themselves through self-denial and isolation.
Lost in confused melancholy, Andrea (Christo Jivkov) joins a community of novices training for the priesthood. The Father Superior (André Hennicke) encourages surveillance throughout his monastery, and Andrea enters into a network of spies eager to report their brothers’ peculiarities. Depressed novices leave without any comfort or reassurance from their brothers, and Andrea grows increasingly tempted to follow their lead and return to the bustle beyond his window.
When Andrea witnesses Zanna (Filippo Timi) slipping through the halls at night, his curiosity leads him into a fellow initiate’s crisis of faith and silent self-destruction. Andrea watches Zanna creep into the infirmary each night, only to be watched by Zanna in turn as he retreats to his cell. The real world tantalizes Andrea across the water – the monastery traps the novices on an island – and its brilliant colours ooze into the greys and whites of his cell.
During the day, the men read scripture with varying levels of interest, present homilies with varying degrees of cynicism, and scrub floors with general boredom. While the monotony of their existence is clearly established, the drudgery leaves us feeling almost as depressed as the novices.
In Memoria Di Me employs a sterile silence that feels meditative at its best and agonizingly flat at its worst. Novices tiptoe along the whitewashed corridors, sneaking glances to catch each other looking troubled, unsure or generally unholy. Andrea enters the monastery with a friendly smile, only to find his fervour quashed by frigidity and suspicion.
Why the program doesn’t entail an open forum for spiritual discussion and education remains unexplained. The passive-aggressive environment leads otherwise healthy men to silent mania, but we’re never presented with justification beyond vague biblical quotations. When another novice bails, he could very well be headed to a more agreeable monastery.
Andrea manages to spark a bit of interest for us during his wanderings about the grounds. Once Zanna finally confronts his follower, the two strike up a hesitant and confessional friendship that almost becomes engaging – Andrea treats religion scientifically, whereas Zanna can’t locate love or compassion within their walls. But when the Father Superior learns of Zanna’s criticism toward their destructive system, he humiliates the pair in public and puts an end to all interesting dialogue.
While Costanzo captures the isolation inherent in spiritual devotion, the in-house fighting among the brothers turns their experience into a petty – and remarkably dull – game. The negativity of the system isn’t strong enough to be a critique of the priesthood, but no one has a revelation strong enough to justify the experience. Instead, In Memoria Di Me registers as a sombre, gruelling snapshot of inactivity.
