The Big Fake is certainly the reason why I learned the name Antonio Chichiarelli, and the more I read about him, the more interested I was in his life story. And the more I became engrossed by everything that had happened in Antonio’s life, the more I despised the Netflix adaptation of his adventures. Most biopics are guilty of doing that cliche thing where they start the subject’s story from their birth, then they move on to their childhood, their rebellious teenage phase, and after beating around the bush, they finally get to the meat of the narrative. By that time you are either bored of focusing on what’s about to happen in the rest of the film, or maybe the movie has already entered its third act, thereby not leaving much scope for a nuanced exploration of the subject matter. And then you get a massive wall of text, forcing you to read what happened to the person in question, whether they are alive or they are dead, and then it cuts to the credits. Now, in all fairness, the movie that’s at the center of today’s discussion does avoid all of these tropes by hitting the ground running, as the fictional version of Antonio enters the most tumultuous phase of his life. Yet, it manages to be bland and oversimplified. Why? Let’s find out.
Stefano Lodovichi’s The Big Fake, which has been adapted from Nicola Biondo and Massimo Veneziani’s Il Falsario Di Stato by Sandro Petraglia and Lorenzo Bagnatori, tells the story of Toni, Vittorio, and Fabione as they leave their hometown, which is situated near Lake Duchessa, to go to Rome and make a name for themselves. Vittorio wants to serve God on a more accessible platform, Fabione is joining a steel mill, and Toni is looking to step into the world of art. This pursuit of Toni’s brings him to the doorstep of an art dealer named Donata. They fall in love with each other, and during their whirlwind romance, Donata introduces Toni to a gangster named Balbo and his associates, Crocca, Stutty, and the Driver. Balbo and his crew do petty crimes, but every so often, they are contacted by a representative of the State, who is only referred to as the Tailor. Given how this Tailor wants to bring down the Red Brigade, he employs Toni (via Balbo) to forge many things to malign the far-left group, and since the pay is good, Toni agrees to work for him. That said, when Fabione joins the Red Brigade and plays an important part in the abduction of Prime Minister Aldo Moro, Toni’s loyalty is tested, and he is compelled to wonder if he has bitten off more than he can chew.
I am pretty sure that you are wondering how that narrative can be turned into a boring mess, because it’s such an interesting story. And if all that happened in real life, how hard can it be to fictionalize it? Well, it turns out that adapting one of the most wacky stories in the relatively seedier chapters of Italy’s history can be hard if you don’t know the tone that you want to go for. Petraglia and Bagnatori tried to be uber-serious about everything, and instead of fleshing out the characters through the dialogue or scenarios, they constantly resorted to mind-numbing exposition and created this flaky sense of paranoia. The characters sometimes address the absurdity of the situation they are in, but that self-awareness doesn’t consistently stick around, which makes for a very confusing viewing experience. In addition to that, it seems like the writers don’t exactly know how to deal with the politics of that time. They try to turn this whole affair into some kind of a conspiracy thriller after the appearance of the Tailor, but they never really commit to it, thereby making The Big Fake’s politics feel really convoluted. Amidst all this nonsense, any commentary on art and forgery is just lost. I think this is one of those rare instances where a story could have benefitted from the serialized treatment.
If the writing is a tonal mishmash of many things, of course, that’s going to reflect in the direction as well. There are a handful of moments where you can see what The Big Fake could have been in terms of its visuals, pacing, and, at the cost of sounding repetitive, tone. There are these beautiful wide shots that show off the landscape and architecture of Italy, thereby immersing you in this story. There’s that heist at the tail end of the film, which is so kinetic and funny. And there are these detailed recreations of popular or unpopular artwork. But all this stuff is treated like punctuation marks between nearly endless, dialogue-heavy scenes where people yap, yap, and yap some more. If you are a big fan of people sitting in rooms and talking, then this film will be right up your alley. If you are a big fan of people sitting in rooms and talking, so long as those conversations are shot, lit, and edited in a fashion that tickles your brain, then this film is not your cup of tea. Look, I understand that period pieces are not cost-effective and you feel the need to do a lot of indoor scenes to avoid dressing entire streets and buildings to reflect the era the movie is set in. However, indoor scenes are not an excuse to abandon every rule of visual storytelling.
The entire cast of The Big Fake does the bare minimum. Pietro Castellitto gets the responsibility of doing most of the heavy lifting, and he falters almost immediately, never recovering. Giulia Michelini is alright, I guess; she doesn’t get enough screentime to be impactful. The same can be said about both Andrea Arcangeli and Pierluigi Gigante. I mean, they are so integral to the plot and growth of the central character, and they just kind of keep floating around. I don’t even know what compelled Aurora Giovinazzo to sign onto this movie; it absolutely wastes her talents. Fabrizio Ferracane, Mattia Carrano, Edoardo Pesce, Claudio Santamaria, and the rest of the supporting cast are just there. I don’t know what else to say. I hope the process of making this film was worthwhile for them, and they got paid properly. All in all, yeah, I was immensely disappointed by this film. It had the potential to be one of the most jaw-dropping cautionary tales of all time. Now, it’s going to be chewed up and spit out by the Netflix algorithm into the streaming platform’s ever-growing pit of forgettable films. That said, feel free to read up on Antonio Chichiarelli and the political scenario that he navigated, albeit very briefly. I am sure that’ll be more entertaining than watching this film.
