“A bittersweet glimpse into the lives of ordinary people attempting to survive a hostile and confusing world.”

Any film that uses “Only You” by Yazoo at some point is clearly intending to be emotionally devastating – and in the case of Children of the Monkey, the poignant directorial debut of Tommaso Landucci, those unmistakable, melancholic notes are the final sounds we hear at the end of the film, in a stunning and hauntingly beautiful climax to quite a challenging story. However, what truly moves us is the journey to get to this specific point, which is the reason this film works so exceptionally well and feels much richer and more honest than initially anticipated. The story follows Dario, who seems to be leading a relatively ordinary life – he is in an apparently happy (or at least pleasantly normal) relationship with his wife, with whom he is raising their son Enrico. The boy has a disability that requires constant care, which means his parents have to adapt their entire lives to his wellbeing, something that they do without any hesitation even when there are clear signs of strain. Dario has also started to develop a strong bond with his teenage nephew, who becomes something akin to a surrogate son, especially since he is around the same age as Enrico. It creates a difficult situation for the protagonist as he grapples with the complex feeling that he is using his nephew as a vessel through which he can channel his own insecurities and curiosities about fatherhood. This is a heart-wrenching but effective examination of a number of complex themes, carefully woven together into a lively, poetic depiction of the challenges that come with parenthood and the role it plays in developing one’s identity and perspective on the outside world.  

As art has become more inclusive, we’ve seen a shift towards telling stories that push against common conceptions of certain subjects. Disability is an issue that is steadily growing in terms of representation, and as more diverse voices are elevated, we see these stories taking centre stage. Children of the Monkey is a fascinating case, since it revolves around a young person dealing with disability, but through the perspective of the parents who have committed their lives to caring for him. This is a tricky subject, especially since it aims to be a thorough and compassionate look at the daily lives of a family in which disability care is their main priority. Evidently the director’s focus was on the caregivers, who are often overlooked in these stories, despite being essential to the lives of people with disabilities, invaluable members of a community that requires an abundance of patience and compassion. This is coupled with the other primary theme of fatherhood (with frequent discussions around contemporary views of masculinity that situate this film as being more progressive in its worldview), which gradually becomes just as much the focus. The character of Dario represents the many parents who adapt their entire lives to raising children that they know will be entirely dependent on them, trying to give them agency wherever possible. It explores both the joys and hardships of their situation, ultimately delivering the message that such a life is not more difficult, but rather different, with certain responsibilities and concerns that other parents do not have to handle, which can redefine how one views certain aspects of life.

Far too often, we see films that set out to explore a subject like disability falling apart at the seams because there is a disparity between intention and execution. This is not the case with Children of the Monkey, which establishes itself as an emotionally honest and mature film from the outset, making it quite clear that it has no interest in manipulating the audience. There are the obvious cues that do imply some degree of sentimentality, but Landucci understands the narrow boundary between an emotionally rich, complex story, and one that is saccharine. While the director evidently has a strong command of the emotional content, the film’s success can also be attributed to its structure, which is constructed as a series of small, episodic moments in Dario’s daily life, each one built around small, intimate interactions. Although there is a clear plot progression, and certain specific developments that give it some momentum, the focus on the more intricate moments, rather than constantly trying to work towards a broader narrative destination, gives the film a wonderful simplicity. It also helps that despite its heavy subject matter, Children of the Monkey finds some space (even if only along the edges) for a bit of levity, showing that the lives of these characters, while filled with obstacles, are not entirely devoid of joy. Every emotion, whether heavy or upbeat, feels authentic and earned, and the audience is invited to experience this journey with Dario rather than merely being told what to feel, a technique too frequently used when looking at challenging subjects.

At the heart of Children of the Monkey is a performance which is perhaps the single element that anchors the entire film. Over a decades-long career, Riccardo Scamarcio has proven to be a reliable actor in any capacity, able to take on a range of roles of various sizes. However, in this instance he is front-and-centre, playing the part of Dario, a complex character requiring an actor who is able to play into various aspects of his personality while also never resorting to the usual tropes associated with similar roles. Considering the entire film is constructed as a sensitive, soulful character study, it makes sense to focus on ensuring that the central protagonist is someone with whom the audience can relate, while also having shortcomings that would allow for growth. Scamarcio rises to the occasion and delivers a striking, beautiful performance as a man who is trying his best to navigate a life filled with challenges, desperately keeping his grasp on reality when it feels like he is at risk of collapsing. Dario is portrayed as a man of many imperfections, which ultimately leads to a process of self-reflection after certain life changes, some more difficult than others. At no point does Scamarcio overplay the part for dramatic effect, choosing to be just as subtle as the film that surrounds him. He crafts an authentic portrait of a man navigating various responsibilities, such as being a father, struggling in a marriage that seems to be slowly deteriorating, and succeeding in his career, all while attempting not to lose sight of himself. It’s a nuanced performance which reveals itself to have many compelling layers that contribute to the underlying message. 

Children of the Monkey is evidence that some stories are most effective when they are told without embellishment, and instead take a more direct path, in which meaning is prioritised over spectacle or overwrought emotions. The film proves to be an honest and direct approach to exploring disability, as well as paying tribute to the caregivers who dedicate their lives to the wellbeing of their loved ones, and demonstrating not only the sacrifices made, but also the deeper questions that are often overlooked. The subtle, nuanced approach allows Landucci to mount a film that works hard to find the optimism and joy in a challenging set of circumstances, telling a deeply human story about a family simply trying to move from one day to the next, finding comfort and happiness wherever it is available, while working through some enormous life changes. It communicates a straightforward message and attempts to be as authentic and meaningful a reflection of reality as possible, being very careful in how it handles raw emotions and sensitive subject matter. Ultimately, the message may not be revolutionary, but the profound compassion with which Landucci approaches this subject, along with an exceptional leading performance, makes Children of the Monkey a bittersweet glimpse into the lives of ordinary people attempting to survive a hostile and confusing world, embracing the unpredictable cycle of life and finding hope in the most unexpected places.