“An intriguing film with a strong premise and unique execution.”

In the Genoese dialect the word “föa” refers to small stories or fables, usually those that have some deeper meaning or wider purpose than just purely entertaining the reader or listener. However, it’s possible to also redefine the term to refer to a cautionary tale, which is exactly the case in Föa – Once Upon a Future, the feature-length directorial debut of Margherita Ferrari, who adapts her short film of the same title by expanding on its core premise and central ideas. The film is based on true events and is set during the G8 summit in 2001, which took place in Genoa. This event was derailed after a large crowd of civilian demonstrators gathered near the summit protesting a range of global political issues, and were subjected to brutal violence from authorities, who ignored the peaceful nature of the protest and chose to consider this an act of domestic terrorism. The focus of the film is not on the protests directly, but rather on Nicole, a pregnant woman whose apartment is in the vicinity, allowing her to observe closely the brutality occurring around her. It reveals the political unrest that she hadn’t noticed before, but now must engage with, particularly when her apartment becomes a shelter for a few protesters as they flee from the police. An evocative social-issues drama which is far more engaging than it seems at first glance, Föa is an intriguing film with a strong premise and unique execution that allows Ferrari the time and space to explore a brief but dark moment in Italy’s history.

Art certainly loves politics (although the feeling is rarely mutual), and there are many instances of filmmakers using the medium as a vessel to explore complex issues in creative and invigorating ways. In the case of Föa we travel back a quarter of a century to the coastal city of Genoa, where we are introduced to a young woman who did not expect to be plunged into the heart of a budding revolution. She becomes an unintentional participant in a movement that would bring significant change, or at least function as one of the many moments that led to certain social and political reforms. Considering the large number of films that look at political movements through the eyes of the people involved, it is a fascinating decision to filter the action through a very different perspective, since it adds new insights to the subject. Ferrari blurs the lines between politics and the process of growing up, crafting an unorthodox coming-of-age story, using a young protagonist as our guide through a particular moment in the past and inviting us to follow her over the course of a day that changed the lives of many people. As the central perspective, Nicole (performed brilliantly by Gaia Ravina) is a fascinating protagonist, since she starts the film being somewhat apolitical, or rather having priorities very different from those of her peers on the street below. By the end, she’s had her entire worldview shaken, which demonstrates that no one is born a radical, but instead adopts such a perspective as a result of witnessing injustice and corruption. The film eventually becomes a complex character study about Nicole trying to juggle her own personal issues with the growing urgency of the changes around her, showing her transformation from innocent bystander to someone who simply cannot ignore the situation that is occurring right outside her front door.

There’s a simplicity to the narrative of Föa that can mislead the viewer into thinking it is a relatively conventional affair. While it follows a straightforward premise from which it doesn’t often deviate, part of the brilliance of the film – and the primary reason it feels so compelling – emerges from the directorial decisions that Ferrari makes to bring this story to life. From a tonal perspective, the film moves between genres quite liberally. It starts as a character-based film, following a protagonist who notices a slight change in the atmosphere, the result of the protesters gradually coalescing nearby. After a while it takes on a more complex form, growing into a tense psychological thriller midway through, once the central premise becomes clear and we understand that this is not just a traditional social realist drama. The change is steady and gradual, and we don’t even notice how the story is pivoting until we’ve passed that point, with only the compounding sense of unease indicating that the film is heading in an entirely different direction. Much of this is enabled by the sound design – we only catch glimpses of the protests outside, but they are omnipresent throughout the film as they can constantly be heard, transitioning from a subtle hum in the background to a cacophony as the confrontation grows and becomes more violent. It’s a fascinating approach, and the director ensures that all the moments are woven together to carry a deeper meaning, intricately constructed to reflect something more profound. Every detail carries a message, even if we may not understand the reasoning behind certain choices at first. Despite being set in a single location, the film never feels restrictive – the sense of unease and claustrophobia is intersected by the sense of imminent danger. The director showcases a remarkable command of tone and structure in bringing these unwieldy sensations to life on screen, anchoring an already complex film with a mood-driven character drama that is far more challenging than it appears on the surface.

While it may be helpful to have some prior knowledge of the subject matter (solely to contextualize the social and political elements that can’t be fully explored during the film), it is not really necessary. Ferrari does quite well in providing the necessary details, as well as making certain broader allusions that indicate that Föa is not merely about this particular moment in history, but rather an examination of one event in the context of something wider and more resonant. The film is driven by one key question: in times of crisis, do you choose to remain a passive onlooker watching the world change around you, or do you become an active participant in the efforts to bring about change? It’s not an easy question to ask, and even more difficult to answer directly, providing the source of the film’s central tension around which many of its intriguing ideas begin to develop. It all ultimately serves the core premise, which is that every revolution starts at home, the seeds of powerful movements often emerging in domestic spaces, since this is where the true impact of unfair systems is most visible. As a result, all it takes is a single spark to ignite an entire movement, with the most ferocious of ideologies spreading to the point where they cannot be contained. This deep allegorical approach is central to Föa, a film that situates some enormous issues in a more recognizable, intimate setting, where we observe a crucial moment in 21st-century history through the eyes of someone slowly being radicalized to see beyond what she has blindly accepted as fact, considering the people behind the masks and what they represent.  It’s a bold, challenging film that isn’t always easy to unpack, but which proves to be quite captivating, even at its most deliberately intense and harrowing.