MARCELLO MIO. Mastroianni Forever… Alive? [REVIEW]

The term “nepo baby,” referring to someone in the entertainment world following in the footsteps of famous parents, has gained popularity over the past few (dozen?) years. It wasn’t in use yet when Chiara Mastroianni, born in 1972, began her film career. However, it’s hard to find a more striking example illustrating the “nepo baby” concept. The daughter of Catherine Deneuve, one of the most famous French actresses in history, and Marcello Mastroianni, the Italian heartthrob who passed away nearly 30 years ago, Chiara is the offspring of true cinematic giants. And it’s with the weight of this legacy that Chiara Mastroianni grapples in the deeply personal film “Marcello Mio”.

We first meet the protagonist of Christophe Honoré’s film during a rather unglamorous ad shoot, where she has to step into a fountain dressed in a black gown and blonde wig—likely modeled after Anita Ekberg in Fellini‘s “La Dolce Vita”, where her father, Marcello, shared the water with her. But this time, it’s happening in Paris, not in Rome’s Trevi Fountain, and the Italian master director is replaced by a tyrannical photographer making the protagonist’s life miserable. This, however, is just the first of several strange professional experiences Chiara goes through in “Marcello Mio”, one of which leads to her surprising decision to… assume the identity of her father, who died in 1996. As you might expect, Mastroianni’s performance meets with mixed reactions, though there are people in her life who support her peculiar “project”—including a newly acquainted, older industry colleague (Fabrice Luchini playing himself), a randomly encountered British soldier, and even her musician ex-husband, no stranger to artistic experimentation. But social acceptance is not the point—the identity change is for Chiara a chance to better understand her father as a person, as well as his many relationships: with her, with her mother, and even… with animals.

“Marcello Mio” initially feels like watching a friend’s playful antics, as she dresses up as a legendary actor to provoke various reactions. The situation where Chiara dons a black suit and shoes, topped with the obligatory black hat, seems spontaneous and trivial. Before this transformation, nothing suggests the protagonist is on the verge of such a radical decision—when she becomes Marcello, she fully inhabits the role: speaking mostly in Italian, responding only to her father’s name, and discussing experiences as Marcello, not Chiara. “You’ll regret it in prison—identity theft is a crime!” threatens Catherine Deneuve in one scene, initially dismissing her daughter’s transformation as a childish stunt. But even she, probably the character with the most memories tied to Mastroianni, eventually begins to see her daughter’s experiment as an opportunity to work through old grievances. She too is glad to “see” Marcello again.

Chiara’s resemblance to her father is striking. The eyes, the shape of the face, the smile—all were gifts from Marcello, so when she puts on Mastroianni’s iconic outfit, complete with thick-rimmed black glasses, it’s easy to get the impression that the great Marcello has been resurrected. Perhaps much thinner, perhaps paler than usual, but still with that piercing gaze that is hard to resist. “Marcello Mio” isn’t just a therapeutic project for Chiara or her mother; it’s also a tribute to the incredible presence of Marcello Mastroianni—a man who defied social norms, a restless spirit who worked with the greatest filmmakers of his time, yet struggled with the conventions of everyday life. His “reincarnation” is as surprising as it is a reminder of the longing for times gone by, of which Mastroianni was undoubtedly a symbol.

“Marcello Mio” is a film fascinating in both form and content; an artistic and intellectual project that proves the boundaries of cinema are remarkably flexible, and that filmmakers can still surprise audiences. After the screening, I felt wonderful: not only did I reflect on the uniqueness of the legendary Italian actor, but I also experienced a deeply humanistic story about searching for oneself—and something within. A highly satisfying cinematic experience.