“A deeply moving exploration of family.”

Art has always had a very peculiar relationship with family – it’s a subject that has been explored extensively, but considering every dynamic is different, it’s impossible to pin down one particular aspect that is universally understood. However, many people can relate to the fact that some of the most meaningful relationships are born not from blood, but through unexpected means, especially since these are often the bonds that we work the hardest to maintain. In The Middle Room, his fourth directorial outing, Enrico Maisto (who has developed a keen awareness of social issues through his documentaries exploring different aspects of the lives of ordinary Italians) looks at how these bonds are often formed in unconventional circumstances, but become just as meaningful as those dictated by biological ties. The film follows Mietta, a retired family court judge, who meets Ibu, a Senegalese immigrant. After she discovers that Ibu has been selling watches on the beach to make a living, she decides to take him, his wife and their newborn son into her home until they can find their feet. This simple act of hospitality gradually becomes something more permanent, as they form a version of a modern family that may seem unorthodox, but is just as loving as any other. A deeply moving exploration of family, The Middle Room looks at how, even though it may not always live up to certain ideals, an unconventional dynamic can yield extraordinary, life-changing results for those who give it a chance.

The Middle Room is evidently a labor of love for the director, since he filmed it over an extended period, following at least seven years in the life of the family. This immediately lends the film some gravitas in terms of its dedication to capturing more than just the novelty of an unconventional group of people. The film is structured as a series of episodic scenes in the household, ranging from the most important, such as the birth of the couple’s second child, to the wonderfully trivial, in which we see the day-to-day lives of these people presented with quiet sincerity rather than trying to move towards a specific narrative point. Maisto approaches the material from an observational perspective, assembling the film as a series of small, seemingly unremarkable incidents that constitute an everyday life, and how they can accumulate into something much more poetic when viewed from a slight distance. The most significant moments are those which seem inconsequential, such as the gentle silences, the casual exchanges and the familiar routines. These may not draw our attention at first, but still reveal how this family have come to accommodate one another while also learning to build on their existing dynamic, which grows closer and more meaningful with each day. Not every discussion shown in this film has a clear resolution, with a lot of what makes The Middle Room so effective coming from the act of watching life as it unfolds, rather than attempting to find meaning in absolutely every moment.

As much as The Middle Room sounds like an assemblage of disjointed moments, there is a bit more to it than we would expect, with some genuine emotional complexity simmering beneath the surface. As the film progresses, we see the characters reflecting on their own individual journeys: none of them started this film as blank slates, and as we get to know them more their respective histories begin to reveal themselves, showing how each of them was shaped into who they are today. The past is a prominent part of this film, since while Mietta does open the door for Ibu and his family to make a better life for themselves as immigrants, so much of their worldview is defined by their previous experiences and by never forgetting their origins. The Middle Room is as much about family as it is about identity and nationality, with the director not being afraid to raise challenging questions about the obstacles faced by those trying to assimilate into a new community. Mietta’s decision to take in this family is a fantastic metaphor for the immigrant experience as a whole: initially built on the act of hospitality, which then entails a lot of adaptation and flexibility as everyone comes to understand one another, bringing their own perspectives and finding common ground in the midst of the more obvious differences. All of these characters are simply searching for a place to call home, which everyone (both within this film and amongst the audience) will define in their own unique way.

There are several different ideas that constitute the foundation of The Middle Room, and each individual viewer may find value in one more than another, which only highlights how rich and complex this film is, despite its simple exterior. Some themes stand out more, but perhaps the most notable is that of reciprocity – Mietta decides to restructure her entire life in order to take a chance on a pair of strangers in whom she sees a lot of potential. In exchange, they become her caretakers in their own way, her act of giving being returned in the form of a family that allows her to feel a sense of achievement and purpose, to remain secure in the knowledge that she has helped improve the world for the next generation, as small as her contribution may seem. All of this is delivered with such restraint and elegance – rather than relying on heavy-handed sentimentality, the film focuses on finding the authentic tenderness beneath these interactions, which are not always perfect and can border on the banal, yet have their own unconventional beauty lingering beneath the surface. It’s a simple and evocative film filled with affection and a lovable charm that constantly returns to the more positive side of this story, giving it a sense of genuine optimism. One choice leads to a chain of changes in the lives of multiple people, who form a unit that may not always be the definition of harmony, but where the love is tangible and the bonds unbreakable, laying the foundation for a truly moving and undeniably effective portrait of a modern family.