THE STORY – After a decade in prison for her sister’s murder, Elisa barely remembers the crime. A criminologist helps her uncover buried memories, leading her toward potential redemption.
THE CAST – Barbara Ronchi, Roschdy Zem, Diego Ribon & Valeria Golino
THE TEAM – Leonardo Di Costanzo (Director/Writer), Bruno Oliviero & Valia Santella (Writers)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
Society seemingly has a profound fascination with criminality, at least that is the case if the seemingly endless obsession with true crime is to be submitted as evidence. There is an intrigue that’s formed when discussing real events because it signals a type of monstrosity that is born out of entirely recognizable circumstances. The stranger we pass on the street, the co-worker we engage in friendly conversation with, the neighbor who seems perfectly affable, are all potential players in hiding a dark secret that reveals a horrific truth. It taps into the underlying anxiety that there is an unknown aspect to the lives of every person, and within those shadows might be an ugly act that was committed, which occurred on our doorsteps. This is the foundation that “Elisa” builds from, as it sources a true story that found a woman culpable for a heinous act. Unfortunately, not that much is revealed in this exploration that seems worthy of needing dramatization in the first place.
As mentioned, this film is inspired by a true account, and this depiction is that of Elisa (Barbara Ronchi), who is currently serving a twenty-year prison sentence for the murder of her sister. She’s already halfway through and part of a work release program, seemingly on the path to perhaps being granted parole. It’s a choice she struggles to accept for herself, but there is a thought held by the people she knows that it’s a chance worth taking. During this time, a criminologist (Roschdy Zem) reaches out to her for a series of interviews he would like to conduct. The purpose is to gain a greater understanding of what drives a certain kind of criminality. There is also an opportunity for Elisa to unlock parts of her memory, which could inform us more about her motive. As their sessions go on, the deeper she falls back into recalling what led up to that fateful event and how she must finally come to reckon with those decisions.
Ronchi’s central performance is meant to be the driving force behind the film. She really does provide a captivating screen presence, able to find the layers of anxiety that plague her mind and convey the overwhelming dread she is trying to keep at bay. We see Elisa in two time periods: the present and in flashback at the time of the murder. You see a stern calculation but also a fractured and panicked mind at play when she commits the act, and juggling those emotions is a fascinating showcase. During the present day time period, her mood is much more reserved but no less intense. It’s an internalized performance that manages to find an effective amount of nuance. She’s much more impressive than Zem, who, by little fault of his own, is left to mostly just sit and produce reams of dialogue. It’s just not a character that demands very much, and in turn, he has little to offer with his portrayal.
In truth, a lot of what is presented here feels like it offers very little in terms of insight regarding this case. The conversations between these two characters feel monotonous in how circular they are, prodding at the same points in trying to get Elisa to reveal more information, which she eventually does. But why this seems so important, other than simply solving a basic mystery, is elusive. Director Leonardo Di Costanzo doesn’t ever frame these conversations in a particularly engaging manner. It’s all stiff compositions and formulaic revering shots that grow very tedious. It’s just as laborious as the screenplay, which never finds the complexity that should give this material more depth to explore. The results are just stale observations about details revealed in these discussions, but with no sense of momentum to build upon this narrative to a satisfying conclusion. There’s an emotional confession at the end, which should be the source of effective catharsis, but it’s delivered through voice-over as written on a letter, with nondescript shots of reactionary faces staring off into the distance. At every opportunity, the road to becoming a more dynamic effort is not taken, resulting in a bland and arduous presentation.
There was a foundation for “Elisa” to become a riveting portrait of a troubled soul that is seeking her own form of redemption. This character inhabits a liminal space where she acknowledges the culpability of her actions, yet there remains potential for a more comprehensive understanding of her motivations. It could have been an absorbing character study, but the storytelling is far too flat to become engrossing. Instead, what is shown is a dull exercise with mundane commentaries. If it weren’t for the central performance mining something out of this barren material, it would have very few redeeming qualities. But even that one successful element is not enough to save this tiresome examination.
