It was November 2019 when I got to watch Funeralopolis for the first time. I was going to my weekly movie in one of the coziest cinema theaters in Amsterdam, OT301. But the movie’s vision was everything but cozy. I remember myself immersed in a horde of Dutch spectators completely disoriented after the movie, wondering if the story was real or not. I remember my feeling of belonging to Milan and to a certain suffering, often dissipated and neglected in the “pleasure island” that is Amsterdam. I state this not because I particularly empathized with the protagonists, but because of the opportunity for reflection the director offered to the public, something very rare and perhaps too risky in contemporary filmmaking. A cinematic opportunity that has no pretension to construct an underground manifesto or a redemptive story. In fact, the crucial point of Funeralopolis, and perhaps its unsettling quality, is the lack of a clear moral message. And, as often happens, in order to digest and exorcise these cruel images you need to reflect and debate on them for a while. The story, ushering its spectators to an existing Italian scenario, raised in me a sensation of being in the wrong place, as if I too was neglecting what is still happening in my hometown.
Funeralopolis: A Suburban Portrait is the debut documentary by Alessandro Redaelli, produced by K48 (today C41.eu) and Filmnoize. The diegesis of the movie is not linear: it is composed of rough and discontinuous vignettes since the director, in order to portrait an honest and realistic story, jettisoned any sort of narrative plot. In this sense, the movie is an observational documentary that draws from brutal and social realism. The film places its spectators in front of a flow of extreme scenes where nothing is censored. Alessandro follows – almost as a fly – Vash and Felce, his childhood friends, while they “shoot” heroin and philosophize on religion and their life experiences. What I personally appreciated is the black and white cinematography, impervious to any sensational narrative that may feed the masses’ morbid hunger for consuming images with a voyeuristic and non-reflective appetite.
Throughout the movie and its vicissitudes, Vash and Felce represent an aphonic chorus in contemporary society. Funeralopolis therefore symbolizes a story that reaches far beyond drugs and the intention to convey specific ethics. The movie is more a portrait of a raw, intimate and spontaneous slice of life, possessing the power to abruptly confront you with an uncensored Milanese reality – and not only.
Funeralopolis was released in DVD format. Merchandise (tee and tote bag) available on the C41 e-store.
