THE STORY – Enzo, 19, and his sister Carla, 20, have been fending for themselves for years. When their father, Anthony, is released from prison, Enzo sees the fleeting promise of rebuilding a family, while it is inconceivable for Carla. As his past catches up with him, Enzo must confront a reality he has kept to himself for far too long.
THE CAST – Diego Murgia, Bastien Bouillon, Romane Fringeli & Héloïse Volle
THE TEAM – Julien Gaspar-Oliveri (Director/Writer) & Claudia Bottino (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 106 Minutes
Distance is at the core of “Stonewall” (Or “La Frappe”), both narratively and visually. Following the release of their father (Bastien Bouillon) from prison, tight-knit siblings Enzo (Diego Murgia) and Carla (Romane Fringeli) are divided by their differing willingness to rekindle a relationship with him. Enzo cannot help but be swept up in the cyclone of chaos his father presents, yearning to be closer to a man whose best qualities only exist in his mind. Carla, meanwhile, becomes a completely different person at the mere mention of her father. A mistimed reference to him can transform a calm, easygoing young woman into the embodiment of rage, desperate to release her pent-up resentment on anything in her close proximity. Much of this film consists of Enzo trying to close the gap between him and his father, while Carla watches in horror from a safe distance. “Stonewall” depicts the gradual unraveling of a family unit whose seeds of destruction had been sown years ago.
Yet, as conventional as the premise may appear on paper—and, truthfully, the film almost plays out as expected—“Stonewall” stands out in its execution for its unique visual approach. The distance and closeness these characters feel become tangible thanks to the frequent use of intimate close-ups juxtaposed with long shots meant to showcase what characters far away, both physically and emotionally, perceive. When the camera is inches away from an actor’s skin, the audience becomes engrossed by every small choice, every microexpression, every eye twitch the actor makes to bring the character to life. And when this is done well, the viewer is practically part of the scene, a helpless observer who understands the character dynamics better than the characters do. Unfortunately, this is often not executed to its fullest potential. The infrequent use of shaky cam makes the film feel more naturalistic at times, but it is often poorly spliced with more traditional footage, resulting in a jarring viewing experience. Instead of being immersive, it becomes disorienting. For every genuinely brilliant close-up that puts you in Enzo’s shoes, there is a sloppy zoom-in that completely takes you out of the film.
By the time the credits roll, one cannot help but wonder whether the film’s synopsis is more compelling than the film itself. A bare-bones summary of the film’s major plot points would capture almost all of its emotional appeal, which is very little. As tragic as “Stonewall” is, it is the upsetting nature of the events themselves that elicits these reactions, not the people they revolve around. Every character feels like a sketch of a person, and no matter how hard the actors try to shade them in, they still feel fundamentally one-dimensional. Revelations near the film’s conclusion are shocking but emotionless because, despite the attempts at foreshadowing, these characters are simply not given enough substance for these twists to appear natural. Even though they significantly alter the context of these people’s choices, they fail to elicit the expected response from the audience because these characters lack the intrigue to begin with. There is nothing wrong with withholding information from the audience and not spelling out the answers, but these characters are simply underwritten. It is fitting that a film so devoted to capturing the distance its characters feel towards one another leaves the audience at a similar distance. Still, this choice undermines what could have been an emotionally resonant conclusion.
Enzo remains a compelling lead, largely thanks to the efforts of Diego Murgia, who handles most of the storytelling in this film. So much depends on his ability to tell a story through his facial expressions, especially given how often the camera focuses on his face. Enzo’s unbridled ecstasy at once again being with his father, his embarrassment at failing in front of him, his frustration at beginning to understand himself, all of it is told not through a heavy-handed script but through Murgia’s carefully crafted gaze. Romane Fringeli similarly works wonders as Carla, although it is a tragedy that a character so volatile and fascinating is sidelined for most of the movie. The actors are forced to do a lot of heavy lifting because of the screenplay’s subtlety, but Murgia and Fringeli prove more than up to the task.
There is a lot to admire about “Stonewall.” The places the story goes to near the end are bold, the performances are intricate and captivating, and the visual style is remarkably singular. Yet this is sadly the poster child for films that are less than the sum of their parts because of how they are edited together. For a film that clocks in at only 106 minutes, it is oddly quite the slog. And though individual sequences and shots take impressive visual swings, they are rarely seamlessly integrated into the rest of the film and can end up standing out in a bad way. Truly, it is the lack of cohesive storytelling across the board that lets down a story, cast, and director with quite a bit of promise.
