THE STORY – “The Siege of Paradise” cheekily scrutinizes the annual tourist season at Cinque Terre in Italy, “the most beautiful place in the world,” including the arrival of TikTokers and influencers — and the conflict that it generates with locals.
THE CAST – N/A
THE TEAM – Gar O’Rourke (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 85 Minutes
For every example of social media being used for good, there are a thousand more disheartening reasons why it’s harmful. Social media has fundamentally changed the way we interact with each other and the world at large. Gar O’Rourke’s documentary, “The Siege of Paradise,” explores the impact of this doom-scroll rewiring on the tourism industry, zooming in on the centuries-old villages of Italy’s northern Riviera. With nearly 4 million tourists a year, Cinque Terre (“the five towns”) is one of the most photographed places in the world. With a population of about 4,500 locals, it’s also one of the most economically and structurally fragile. The documentary juxtaposes an idyllic Italian summer with the everyday conflict that its overcrowding imposes on locals. It’s a visually striking observation of contradictory human behavior. While repetitive in structure and occasionally quite dull, there’s a well-defined urgency to maintaining what makes Cinque Terre special.
The opening scenes set a tone of tranquility. In a breezy register, a local radio host encourages listeners to start the morning slowly, as it’s the first day of summer. If you’re still in bed, he narrates, give yourself an extra five minutes of rest, because you deserve it. If you’re already up and about, open the windows and make a coffee. The film begins by basking in the sun-kissed glow of everyday life here. Lush terraces, thriving vineyards, colorful houses, and the calming sea gorgeously imprint the landscape. What begins as a picturesque depiction slowly becomes a calm before the storm. The use of Western genre music adds a touch of cheek to the buildup of suspense. Moments before the first tourist boats arrive, one of the locals sounds the town bell to alert everyone. The cobblestone streets are about to become overcrowded, set to the soundtrack of rolling suitcases and camera clicks.
What happens when a best-kept secret loses its identity and charm? If you’re up-to-date with the latest television breakout hits, “Widow’s Bay” (created by Katie Dippold) offers a fitting dramatized answer. Matthew Rhys plays a mayor grappling with the challenge of attracting more tourists to his folklore-riddled New England town. The locals, however, are not so keen to watch their sleepy, coastal corner of the world transform. Tom does not yet know the full centuries-old history of Widow’s Bay that threatens to consume its community whole. But he’s putting all his eggs in one basket, hoping the town can thrive to forge a brighter future for his son. “The Siege of Paradise” echoes that sweet spot between wanting to preserve or protect identity and feeding into a tourism-based ecosystem. There’s an energy amongst many locals to maintain Cinque Terre for future generations. It’s the impetus that drove winegrower Bartolo and his wife, Lise, to dedicate years of their lives to preserving the vineyards of Vernazza (one of the “Cinque” towns).
The driving force behind “The Siege of Paradise” is made clear, though the choice of perspectives ranges from compelling to repetitious and dull. Bartolo and Lise have by far the greatest impact, given how the film conveys its themes by immersing us in the couple’s lifestyle. Intimate framing clues us in to Bartolo and Lise’s commitment to the town and to each other. Glimpses of the two sharing coffee or enjoying their terrace emphasize a life built on these everyday moments that many take for granted. There’s a standout moment of Bartolo and Lise reminiscing on their arrival to Cinque Terre many years ago, in awe of its starry night sky. The relationship brings a tinge of melancholy, as Lise’s illness weighs heavily on Bartolo, who does not want to show his sadness to her.
The film introduces other perspectives throughout, including those of a tired restaurant owner, Carmelo, and his young daughter, Giorgia. They represent a divide between older and younger generations, wrestling with whether to stay put to preserve the business or leave town to explore the world. Nearby, a fisherman named Guido provides insight into how most of the town’s professionals in his field now practice only tourism fishing. “There’s more to life than money,” Guido mentions, which is a localized mentality that Fabrizia Pecunia, mayor of the Riomaggiore village, attempts to balance with economic needs and issues of overcrowding. Her inclusion offers a first-hand look at community discussions about the importance of maintaining value so that tourists continue to find the place uniquely attractive. Not enough time is spent on their individual voices, resulting in a simplistic presentation of complex issues. But there’s a consistent focus on exploring the tourist-driven challenges specifically through local perspectives. In doing so, the film avoids a few of the typical documentary elements, such as excessive “talking heads” and guided voice-over narration. We are immersed in day-to-day experiences in which we can observe a changing environment through the local community’s eyes.
The film also pointedly includes the flip side of the locals’ dynamic by following Grace and Isabel, two lifestyle influencers from Chicago who arrive at what’s become a hotspot for social media content. With this material, the film finds a delicate balance between poking fun and finding moments of authenticity. While the influencer-driven moments quickly become quite dull and repetitive in presentation, they do lead to a memorable extended scene involving an Aperol Spritz order. There’s a palpable indication of feeling consumed by the incessant need for digital connection, to the point where being present in the moment is considered a rare luxury. Ironically, having a genuine presence, whether in the form of showing up for ourselves or our community, is the most valuable of all. It can’t be replicated, nor truly replaced when gone.
The film takes every opportunity to remind us of the beautiful landscapes that have defined Cinque Terre for decades. It’s an effective window into the locals’ version of paradise and is well-focused on communicating a sense of urgency within the community. But the film too often closes the door on deeper exploration of their individual voices. Additionally, the perspectives can be very limiting in scope and repetitive in presentation, ultimately resulting in a simplistic experience.
