Cantastorie di Venezia: A Charming, Slow Glimpse into Old Venice

Alright, so Cantastorie di Venezia. This one’s definitely not for everyone, let's just get that out there. If you’re looking for fast action or sleek modern storytelling, you’ll probably be fidgeting after ten minutes. But if you’ve got a soft spot for really old films, maybe silent-era stuff, and you’re curious about how a simple story can still kinda hook you, then yeah, give it a shot. It's a sweet, if a little clunky, visit to a Venice that feels almost like a dream. 🛶

The whole thing centers on Marco, played by Pietro Cimarro. He’s this old storyteller, a ‘cantastorie,’ who just sits there in a Venetian piazza, spinning these elaborate tales for anyone who’ll listen. And people do listen. There’s a scene early on, a tight shot on Cimarro’s face, where he’s got this glint in his eye, and you just know he believes every word of what he’s saying. It’s quite something, actually.

The pacing is… well, it’s period appropriate, let’s say. Things unfold slowly. You see a gondola glide by, and it really glides. It’s not trying to rush you anywhere. Sometimes, a shot will linger on a group of children listening to Marco, their faces just totally rapt. It’s a nice touch, grounding the grand tales in these very real, small reactions. You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you this moment matters. And for a second, it does.

There’s a little drama involving a young couple, Elara (Daisy Lorand) and Renzo (Luigi Serventi). She’s got this incredible expressiveness, even without dialogue, it's just all in her eyes. And Renzo, he’s a bit more stoic. Their little troubles feel very real, very human, like something you’d overhear on a street corner. Then Gildo Bocci shows up as this sort of rival character, always with a smirk that feels just a little too practiced.

What really sticks with me is how Venice itself just feels… present. Not like a postcard, but like a living, breathing place. The way the light hits the water, the texture on some of the old stone walls. It’s not a visually stunning cinematic experience in the modern sense. No, it’s more like a painting that you keep finding new little details in. You can tell they filmed it right there, no backlots trying to fake it. That authenticity comes through, even on a grainy print.

There’s a moment when Marco tells a story about a hidden key. And later, Renzo actually *finds* something important, almost echoing the tale. It’s a neat bit of storytelling within the story. Makes you wonder how much these old storytellers influenced people back then. Did they really believe Marco was some kind of mystic, or just a really good entertainer? 🤔

One particular shot, it’s just Elara, sitting by a window, looking out. And the camera just stays there. No movement, no cut. It goes on about 20 seconds too long, and the silence starts to feel awkward rather than emotional. You start thinking about what the crew was doing, waiting for the director to yell cut. A little glimpse behind the curtain, maybe?

The performances are earnest. Pietro Cimarro really carries the film, his presence is just so solid. Daisy Lorand is wonderfully dramatic, her hand gestures are everything. Luigi Serventi, though, he’s a bit stiff sometimes. You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you his plight matters, but his performance doesn't quite get there for me. It’s okay. Not every actor hits it out of the park.

It's an experience, really. Like stumbling upon an old dusty book and deciding to flip through it. You won't find flashy effects or intricate plot twists. But there's a certain charm, a quiet poetry to it all. It’s a reminder that stories, even the simple ones, have always been at the heart of things. 📖

Random Notes from the Viewing:

• That one background extra who kept looking directly at the camera. Hilarious!
• The pigeons in the piazza scene were *not* cooperating. You can see a couple of crew members trying to shoo them away.
• Marco’s hat is truly magnificent. A character in itself.
• A lot of hand-wringing by the female lead. Classic!
• The music, what little there is, feels like it came from a carnival organ.

If you're into The White Raven or even something like Finances of the Grand Duke, you might find something to appreciate here. It’s got that same kind of historical texture, that slow, deliberate pace. But honestly, it's a bit more niche than either of those.

It's not a film to analyze too deeply. Just let it wash over you. It's a piece of history, imperfect but genuine. And sometimes, that’s enough. It makes you feel like someone took notes during or immediately after watching the movie. And I did.