Written and directed by Abel Ferrara
Starring Willem Dafoe, Cristina Chiriac and Anna Ferrara
Running time: 1 hour 55 minutes
Not rated - nudity, language, one moment of violence

by Audrey Callerstrom

Tommaso is a film that might have been regarded as high-art in the late 60s. It contains religious imagery, improvised dialogue, voyeuristic camera angles, nudity, dream (?) sequences, long takes and is morally ambiguous. It deals with infidelity, addiction, art, theater, filmmaking, parenting, sex and abandonment. It takes place in Rome. Make it a little grainier, add some dated clothing, and lose all the computers, cell phones and modern television sets, and this would look like an Art Film. One that you heard a lot about and then decided to get from the library and were like “Oh that was pretty cool, you know, for its time” or “That was OK.” It’s shot well, and Willem Dafoe is good, because he always is,* but Tommaso is dull, aimless, and indulgent. (*even in Aquaman and Speed 2!)

In real life, Tommaso writer/director Abel Ferrara lives in Rome with his wife, Cristina Chiriac, and their adorable young daughter, Anna. In Tommaso, Tommy, or “Tommaso” as he is called by locals , is also a filmmaker (played by Dafoe), who lives with his wife Nikki (played by Chiriac) and their daughter, Deedee (played by Anna). There are other aspects of Tommy that indicate that he is at least partially based on Ferrara. Tommy mentions having adopted children, which Ferrara also has. Tommy appears to be a practicing Buddhist, which Ferrara also is. Throughout Tommaso, Tommy attends group therapy, teaches theater classes, barks at his wife and struggles with his screenplay. Nikki and Tommy communicate terribly and fool around with other people.

Ferrara spends a lot of time filming Tommy and Nikki in doorways, giving their scenes a voyeuristic feel, as if a disapproving third party was observing their interactions, waiting to intervene. Tommy complains that Nikki pushes him away, doesn’t communicate with him, and that due to her behavior and age (she’s 29), he feels like he has “two children.” When she starts a meal without him, he snaps at her. Tommy also carries on multiple affairs. A nude woman walks up to him in her café and they make out. The camera lingers on her body for an uncomfortably long time, her face out of frame. We also see Nikki showering, a student of Tommy’s performs a nude dance, and yet another student makes out with him while he grabs her breast. The shots of the nude women are gratuitous and monotonous. Each scene serves no purpose except to tell us that Tommy is not very happy being married to Nikki.

And to show naked women.

It’s unclear, but in addition to being a filmmaker who shot most of his films in the U.S., like Ferrara, Tommy is also a performance artist. At one point, he is arrested for giving speeches to a crowd in public. The circumstances are unclear, and it’s never brought up again.

Tommaso is a long, pointless, meandering series of self-contained scenes. I love The Before Trilogy, where characters just talk and walk through Europe, and later argue and bicker. But this film is vastly different. Tommassso feels like a director’s cut that Ferrara filmed, decided was good enough, and never sent to an editor, but in fact that isn’t the case. If it’s not enough that Tommy continues to feel tortured and burdened by his wife and family, Ferrara takes this to an obvious level in the closing scene where Tommy (again, as a performance artist?) hangs from a cross in a public square. Tommaso is a chore to watch, a waste of Dafoe, and, I’m told, not representative of Ferrara’s body of work.

Watch Tommaso via virtual cinemas on June 5, more information available on where to watch here.