THE STORY – A playwright hooked on sniffing perfume to relive memories from an Italian vacation spirals into obsession as his life falls apart.
THE CAST – Tim Heidecker, Marta Pozzan, Kevin Kline, Julia Fox, Fisher Stevens & Gina Gershon
THE TEAM – Charlotte Ercoli (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 85 Minutes
The struggle of artistic stagnation is something many experience at some point in their life. The period where one’s creativity is thwarted by bouts of self-doubt and lack of inspiration makes it feel like the end of the world. It’s almost as if there’s no escape from that feeling, no matter how hard one tries to break from that cloudiness. It’s undoubtedly a feeling that first-time filmmaker Charlotte Ercoli understands as her film “Fior di Latte” takes writer’s block to the oddest of rabbit holes, one that, of course, could only be spearheaded by a comedic talent like Tim Heidecker.
Heidecker plays Mark, an uninspired playwright ready to venture out on his own but can’t find the courage (or possibly talent) to do it. He spends his days rotting in his filthy apartment, bidding on peculiar memorabilia of classic Hollywood stars, such as Mickey Rooney’s used bathrobe. His roommate (and unspecified) romantic partner, Francesca, played by Marta Pozzan, would rather be anywhere but with him. The only thing Mark has is the memories of his week in Italy, where he met Francesca. The moment in his life that he can’t seem to live up to. The only way he knows how is by aggressively huffing his old perfume-stained clothes from the Italy trip. The scent of the rare Fior di Latte fuels him with the creativity he needs. That bliss, of course, is ruined, setting Mark down a dark path of obsession, desperate to get the scent back to give himself some happiness and push him to the point where he can develop his next project.
“Fior di Latte” is genuinely the Hedicker showcase as Ercoli creates a character that feels so naturally in tune with his comedic sensibilities. Mark hilariously is like one of those people who takes their interest in Japanese culture to a weirdly obsessive level, but in this scenario, it’s Italy. He’s constantly wearing the crappiest tourist clothing from his trip without refusing to bathe unless it’s in perfume. Heidecker is given a handful of line readings that only someone of his abilities could make as funny. Despite the humor of it all, there is a sense of empathy he’s able to elicit, even if it’s coated in a patheticness like the perfume he douses himself in. Heidecker embodies all of Mark’s slobbish traits to the point where his shtick’s intentionally cringe-inducing nature begins to feel monotonous. That’s probably the most significant issue of Ercoli’s debut. It mainly has one joke, and it stretches past the limitations of its hilarity. Audiences are constantly seeing Mark huffing and huffing as Ercoli interjects moments of Mark’s trip as hallucinatory flashbacks that attempt to give context to why this moment in time means so much to him.
It gets to a point where Mark ignores what’s right in front of him, failing to make the most of the few opportunities given to him. This mainly pertains to his “relationship” with Francesca, which is so thinly veiled that the whole film never clarifies explicitly what they are. Francesca expresses that she cares about Mark, but it’s entirely defined as a relationship bound by a desire to become more or a romance that has lost its spark. It’s the only motivation given, as Mark spends the whole movie huffing and going off the deep end. Other eccentric figures come across Mark’s quest to obtain more of the elusive Fior di latte, such as an aspiring actress played by Julia Foxx who is roped along for creepy requests by Mark, or a cheerfully enigmatic scent maker played by Kevin Kline, who is one of the film’s few bright spots.
Ercoli’s love for the golden age of Hollywood more than creeps through the surface of this film, from the random items in Mark’s collection, like a piece of Shirley Temple’s hospital gown, to how Gina Gershon is made to look similar to Sophia Loren. Even the awkwardly interjected musical numbers, one where Kline feels far more in rhythm, are harking back to a specific period in storytelling. Ercoli’s direction is more than competent as she assembles a small feature that gets to where it needs to go. Still, even with a star known for his very specific and eccentric style of humor, she can only muster up a few solid laughs. Something that is unequivocally necessary for a comedy. On the eve of a feature like “Friendship,” which starred Tim Robinson (another comedic talent with a particular style of humor), that film only makes what Andrew DeYoung achieved feel more broadly approachable to what Ercoli is doing with “Fior di Latte.” Ercoli’s heart is in the right place, creating a good-looking comedy, but without many laughs to sustain what she’s trying to say, many won’t feel it’s worth the effort.
