Richard Bonelli: A Bittersweet Watch, If You're Patient

So, is Richard Bonelli worth your time today? Look, if you’re into quiet character studies, films that just sort of... *exist* in a space of introspection, then maybe. This one is definitely for folks who appreciate a slow, deliberate pace and don’t mind a narrative that feels less like a journey and more like a prolonged sigh. If you need explosions, quick cuts, or anything remotely resembling a thrilling climax, you’re going to be bored out of your mind. Skip it. 🙅‍♀️

The film centers on the titular Richard Bonelli, a man who, for much of the runtime, doesn't say all that much. We mostly watch him in his daily routines, and it feels like we're peeking through a window at someone else's life. He seems to carry this heavy, unspoken thing around with him, and the movie just lets that feeling linger.

There's this one scene, maybe halfway through, where he's just staring out a grimy kitchen window. The light is flat, and he’s holding his coffee cup in a really specific way, almost like he’s trying to warm his hands more than drink the coffee. It goes on for a solid minute, maybe a little more. You feel the weight of his thoughts, even though you don’t know what they are. It’s bold to let a shot breathe like that, to just trust the audience to connect.

But then, there are moments where it tries a little too hard. There's a flashback, super brief, to him as a younger man, laughing. The cut feels abrupt, almost out of place, like the director suddenly remembered we needed some contrast. It doesn't quite earn the emotional punch it's reaching for.

The pacing is interesting. It drifts, then sometimes snaps into focus with a quick, almost jarring edit. You get used to the quiet hum, and then a sudden close-up on a worn photograph almost makes you jump. It’s effective sometimes, but other times it just feels a little... clumsy. Like they were still figuring out the rhythm in the editing room.

I found myself wondering a lot about the choices Richard made. Or, rather, the choices that were made for him. There's this sense that he's reacting to things, not initiating. He's always slightly behind, slightly out of sync with the world around him. You really feel that during his interactions with the woman at the market; he struggles to even make eye contact.

The overall tone is melancholy, almost wistful. The color palette is mostly muted browns and grays, with splashes of deeper, almost bruised blues. It makes everything feel a little cold, a little removed. Even the small moments of kindness, like when a neighbor leaves him a pie, feel tinged with sadness. It’s never quite bright. 🌧️

The score, what little there is, really underscores this feeling. It’s mostly just a few cello notes, sparse and low. It never overwhelms, which is a relief. It just sits there, like another character, observing.

There are definitely sections that drag. You can almost feel the movie holding its breath, waiting for something to happen that never quite does. And that’s part of its charm, I guess, if you’re in the right mood. It asks for patience, and honestly, sometimes it pushes that patience a bit far.

But still, some images stick. That shot of the old man walking his dog, silhouetted against a really orange sunset. And the way Richard traces patterns on a foggy windowpane. These are small things, but they add up to something. Not a grand statement, but a genuine feeling.

If you're looking for something that respects the quiet corners of human experience, Richard Bonelli might be for you. It's not a masterpiece, not by any stretch, but it's got a certain honesty to it. It’s a film that leaves you with questions, not answers. And sometimes, that's enough.

Didja notice?

• Richard always wears the same grey sweater. Always.
• The way the old clock on the mantelpiece ticks really loudly in one scene, then you never hear it again.
• The newspaper Richard reads on the bench? The headlines are completely blurry.
• One of the background extras in the café scene kept looking directly at the camera. Twice! 😂
• The almost unsettling silence when the phone rings, and he just lets it go to voicemail.
• The very specific way he folds his napkin after dinner, like it's a ritual.