The city of Naples has always considered itself a cultural center. Jammed between two volcanic areas, Mount Vesuvius and the Phlegraean Fields, the city’s artistic life continues to hold on to its deep roots, with a mixture of homespun naturalism and flights of fancy. John Turturro brings this dichotomy to life in his film Passione, opening at Film Forum June 22. Ostensibly a documentary about the musical history of Naples, it eschews familiar conventions of the form in favor of a prevailing mood that captures the feeling of the vibrant performers.
Turturro does this by not presenting too many interviews, letting the music speak for itself. The film mixes contemporary and traditional sounds, from operatic ballads to rhythm-heavy pop, performed by a wide range of Neapolitan artists. Each song is staged, some locally, some in a studio, to match the performance in tone and style. One of the more raucous sections of the film finds the actor Max Casella (The Sopranos and Boardwalk Empire) performing with Peppe Barra and M’Barka Ben Taleb on a rendition of “Pistol Packin’ Mama,” an unusual choice which Turturro seems to make work in this context. The film tells us that in Naples, folk songs were used to ward off bad luck, so it’s no surprise this immediately follows “Passione,” performed with stunning clarity by James Senese and his group, which is cut to archival footage of bombs being dropped during World War II.
A scene from John Tuturro’s Passione, which opens at Film Forum June 22.
The short bursts of newsreel footage—which appear from time to time throughout—give the audience a respite from the slick barrage of music coming from the screen, as well as an interesting formal technique to realign the musical and the historical. Each performer gets to speak, albeit briefly, about the songs they sing, their background and meanings (but not enough). It’s hard to find fault in a film that is having this much blissful fun. Turturro allows himself to be a little goofy, appearing here and there as tour guide for the audience, dancing around the frame and offering bon mots like a television host. During a performance of “Caravan Petrol,” the director and his buddy Casella take part in a comedic sketch that lets them have a dance-off in the desert with a number of attractive women (it comes off as odd as it sounds). These detours don’t take away from the stunning visuals, photographed by Marco Pontecorvo, which move from the hardscrabble streets to the volcanic landscapes. Passione is at its most moving when the camera is able to drift from the music, the sounds still floating in the air, toward the faces of the people in the streets; a vibrant mosaic of tradition, history and life before our eyes. Or as Turturro tells the audience late in the film, “a city painted with sound.”
