Valeria Bruni Tedeschi in Human Capital (Film Movement)

Directed by Paolo Virzì
Produced by Fabrizio Donvito, Marco Cohen, and Benedetto Habib
Written by Francesco Bruni, Francesco Piccolo and Paolo Virzì, freely adapted from the novel by Stephen Amidon
Released by Film Movement
Italian with English subtitles
Italy. 110. Not rated
With Fabrizio Bentivoglio, Valeria Golino, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Fabrizio Gifuni, Matilde Gioli, Guglielmo Pinelli, and Giovanni Anzaldo

Intertwining story lines and alternating perspectives permeate Paolo Virzì’s absorbing, wide-eyed survey of class struggles and opportunism in contemporary Italy. Sourced from Stephen Amidon’s Connecticut-based 2004 novel, Virzì transplants the story to Milan, focusing on the fluctuating expectations and desires of two families: one, affluent members of the elite one percent, and the other, middle-class dwellers, whose patriarch aspires to a life of privilege and fortune.

Virzì works backwards, presenting the film’s fatal outcome at the outset. A late-night bicycle accident links the two families, but the culpable player behind the cyclist’s death is not disclosed until the final act. Leading up to the reveal, Human Capital is spliced into three parts, each focusing on individual members of the two clans.

Viewers are introduced to Dino Ossola (Fabrizio Bentivoglio), a widowed father who is expecting twins with his second wife, Roberta (Valeria Golino). Dino’s teenage daughter, Serena (Matilde Gioli—more on her later), dates classmate Massimiliano (Guglielmo Pinelli), son of wealthy hedge fund manager Giovanni Bernaschi (Fabrizio Gifuni), whose apprehensive, soft-spoken wife, Carla (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), is working to restore a crumbling, historic theater. And Serena, in addition to spending time championing Massimiliano’s efforts to impress his hard-to-please father, befriends Luca (Giovanni Anzaldo), a working-class, anti-social client of her psychiatrist stepmother. Got all that?

Chapters one through three focus on Dino, Carla, and Serena, respectively. Inciting incidents leading to the death of the cyclist are replayed through each of these three perspectives. Virzì evokes Kurosawa with his dissemination of the details, though rather than concentrating on the subjectivity of truth, the director instead suggests the irreconcilability of confronting class struggle and social mobility, at least while maintaining one’s honor and morality. Surface impressions of each character are discredited and upended by their self-serving objectives—everyone wears a mask, some better fitted than others.

Excellent performances abound, though Gioli is the particular standout. Her portrayal of Serena as an unaffected, resourceful, quick-witted young woman is augmented by a discreet vulnerability. For much of the film, Serena is Superwoman, though even she unveils flaws and makes mistakes by the culmination.

Virzì merges his players and plotlines with thoughtfully crafted finesse. Relationships, regularly entwining, remain distinct without being overstated. The structure evades narrative confusion while sustaining an air of thrilling tenacity. And the director certainly does not veer away from a recoiling conclusion, as he reiterates what we’ve known—though hope to disprove—all along. The film reminds us that, as individuals, our societal standing is inextricably linked to our economic value, as we perpetually erase the significance of the word human in relation to its capitalistic counterpart.