A Night at the Taormina Film Festival

We arrived at 10:30pm, just before the film was due to start at the 72nd Taormina Film Festival, and the Ancient Theatre was already packed. Because we’d cut it so close, parking was a breeze. No queues, no stress, one of those rare times when being late actually worked in our favour. The festival had been going on all day, and so others had arrived hours earlier.

An Italian singer, Sarah Toscano, opened the evening. Her voice was incredible and the younger crowd went wild. I had no clue who she was. Then came the awards. Kaya Scodelario was first up, a British actress, not in tonight’s film but recognised for her work elsewhere. She used to play Effy in Skins, a show I watched religiously with my brother growing up, and seeing her walk onto the stage gave me a strange feeling, half nostalgia, half disbelief. From my parents’ living room to the Ancient Greek theatre in Taormina. Such a strange distance to cross. It felt like a full circle moment, if that’s even a real thing.

More names followed. And then, finally, Russell Crowe.

He came out to massive applause, the crowd shouting “Massimo” like he was a gladiator entering the arena. When he spoke, he spoke in Italian. Not perfect, not fluent, but clearly practiced, the kind of effort people take when they want to get something right instead of just getting through it. He talked about his love for Sicily, how he’d visited with his family many times and ended by talking about the role the next generation has to play in keeping cinema alive. It was more moving than I expected a celebrity speech to be, maybe because it didn’t feel like one, or maybe it’s just different in person.

Then the cast of Bear Country came out together, wished us an enjoyable watch, and the lights went down.

But then, as the opening credits rolled, the audience started getting up and leaving. One by one, then in waves. I turned to my partner, stunned. “Why is everyone leaving? Isn’t the whole point of this to watch the film?”

“The movie is in English.They came to see the stars, get some photos, maybe a signature, and now they are done”, he said.

The film had Italian subtitles, so it wasn’t a language barrier. This was the world premiere. The entire point of the festival. A theatre that was full five minutes earlier now had maybe 100 people left in it. Once I got over the shock, I just moved to a better seat. So really, it worked out for everyone.

And the film itself was incredible. Without giving too much away, it follows Manco Kapak (Crowe), an LA nightclub owner trying to sell up and retire to Thailand with his girlfriend, until his plans fall apart after he gets robbed. Running alongside him is Jeff, a community college professor, who makes some terrible decisions and ends up dragged into a robbery scheme. The two storylines weave together well, tense throughout, with continuous dark humour. I kept thinking, “all of this because of that one stupid thing”, and laughing.

It got me thinking about the difference between consuming an experience and actually being present in one. For a lot of people, snapping a few photos of the cast, making a video you’ll never watch again, was exactly what they came for. For me, staying and watching the film meant seeing the story unfold in real time, in an ancient space built for exactly that purpose, under a sky that’s been watching performance for over two thousand years.

According to my partner, who’s basically my oracle in all things Sicily, most locals don’t really follow the festival closely. Taormina doesn’t advertise it the way Cannes does, and I think that’s intentional, a way of keeping it smaller, more niche. Less red carpet spectacle, more intimate and eclectic.

Within days of the last film screening, the same stage hosts an entirely different festival, TAOBUK, the Taormina International Book Festival. Cinema gives way to literature on the same ancient steps, Taormina has so much culture and creativity packed into it, I just hope it doesn’t get swallowed by tourism and commercialism.

By day, the Ancient Theatre is a tourist site, selfie sticks and tour groups. At night, especially a night like this, it becomes something else. From the seats, you can see the coastline lit up, curving toward Catania, with the faint silhouette of Etna in the distance.

The Greeks carved the theatre into the rock of Monte Tauro back in the third century BC. The Romans later expanded it for gladiatorial games. A Greek stage, a Roman arena, a ruin and now a cinema. Centuries of use, all in the same spot.

Goethe, the German poet I mentioned in an earlier post, sat in these same seats back in 1787 and wrote about it in Italian Journey. Looking down from the very top row, he wrote, “no audience in any other theatre ever beheld such a view”. He wasn’t wrong. Sitting there centuries later, watching a Hollywood premiere against the same backdrop, I felt that same awe. The view hasn’t changed. Only the performers have.

Next week, I’ll write about what’s happening to Taormina beyond the festival, how it’s changed over time, especially since becoming a filming location for White Lotus. I’ll also take you ten minutes up the hill to Castelmola, a place far fewer tourists know about, home to a bar filled with phalluses.

Alla prossima,

Nadia