Diary films comprise a genre that can yield a vast array of tones and emotions. Upon hearing the note that Nanni Moretti’s Dear Diary (1994) covers his battle with cancer, certain audiences might be compelled to avoid the film altogether for fear that the content might be unbearably depressing. What a shame that would be, as I can think of few films that cover such material with such evocative, and ultimately optimistic, humanity.
Perhaps Dear Diary is a misnomer, or at least a sore thumb in the diary genre. It is a scripted film, and this makes it unique in that category, but the words and thoughts it displays are genuine. After all, are the words of a diary not scripted as well, preplanned before they meet the page? Clearly Moretti felt that there was no loss of authentic emotion.
His film exists in three portions; “chapters” for his purposes. The first concerns his thoughts as he traverses the streets of Rome on his Vespa. His fascination with the architecture of the city often takes cognitive president. He laments for the times in which these buildings were erected and bemoans the slow progression of Italy toward sensationalism. He searches for simple pleasures, and exposes his disappointment that he never learned to dance. He goes to the movies, wishing that they made more pictures like Flashdance (1983), and when he stops Jennifer Beals on the street, the resulting conversation does not seem scripted. In the second chapter he decides that he would benefit from working for several days in the quite offered by the islands, only to find when he visits a scholarly friend that his particular islet has become chaotic with modernization. The two men set out to find an island village not thus affected, but at each stop find themselves more and more disturbed. The friend denounces television as a cause, claiming that he hasn’t watched in years, but by the trip’s conclusion is asking American strangers about the happenings of “The Bold and the Beautiful.” There’s additional humor when he tries to convince a woman of the legitimacy of a comparison between Ulysses and “Italy’s Most Wanted.”
The third portion of the film concerns Moretti’s own odyssey of a diagnosis of lymphoma and the resulting chemotherapy. Cancer is a tragedy in life and it is perhaps the only killer in films that every audience member can understand and relate to. It is amazing here how Moretti accepts his own diagnosis not as a death sentence but as the answer to so many questions. Yes, he is told that his condition is treatable, but I’m not certain that the tone of this film would be soured were that not the case. I can’t help but think of the humanity that the dying Jean Vigo expressed with L'Atalante (1934).
Ultimately, I’d say that Dear Diary is a film better experienced than described. It is a joy to watch and includes enough inside nods to film fans that any cinephile is sure to find something in it for them. It’s humorous, and sad, and serious all at once, but it never takes itself too seriously. I get the feeling that it was a joy to make as well, perhaps cathartic for Moretti. What it displays in the end is a spirit of endurance; the ability to take life as it comes and to remember to cherish the small blessings. Yes, the modern world is full things to be disappointed by, but we gain nothing from dwelling in our disappointment. Often, typical diary films do just that, and it is to their determent. Moretti falls victim to no such complacency.
Language: Italian
Runtime: 100 Minutes
Available @Youtube.com
Grade: 3.5 Hats Off
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