How long can someone be a prisoner to their social circumstances before they reach the point where they can no longer remain silent? This is a question that many have asked for as long as society has found ways to marginalise certain communities by silencing their voices, and it has been the foundation for some of the greatest works of art, designed to be both snapshots of specific cultures and its people and works of pure resistance. A wonderful recent example of this comes in the form of There’s Still Tomorrow (Italian: C’è ancora domani), an achingly beautiful and deeply charming film in which Paola Cortellesi makes her directorial debut, telling the story of Delia, a mild-mannered housewife trying to be a good mother and wife to her family, who live in a squalid apartment in a working-class neighbourhood of Rome, which is still feeling the impact of the Second World War as the dust settles and they begin to rebuild their society in the aftermath of a catastrophic conflict, which dismantled the previous powerful and incredibly influential nation from its very foundation. When she receives an unexpected parcel in the mail (which we discover is her voter registration, something she had never been given before), she begins to realise that there is a way for her to escape this banal existence, which includes an abusive husband, an overly-dependent father-in-law and children whose future essentially depends on her willingness to go against the grain and embrace the winds of change that are gradually starting to blow throughout Europe, regardless of the efforts of the traditionalists to keep progress suppressed. A film that is simultaneously delicate and bitingly funny, There’s Still Tomorrow acts as both a throwback to an earlier era of Italian cinema, and a brilliantly captivating story of independence in the face of adversarial forces, being crafted with a meticulous attention to detail and an abundance of heart, providing us with all the evidence to Cortellesi being as gifted a filmmaker as she is an actor, both of which are more than proven in this delightfully offbeat historical comedy that looks at timely themes in a manner that is respectful and earnest, while never losing sight of its underlying meaning, which is as integral as the effervescent, delightfully endearing tone.

Italian cinema has always been at the forefront when it comes to social issues – the entire movement of Italian neo-realism centred squarely around the daily trials and tribulations of ordinary people as they made their way through the postwar period, with society being gradually rebuilt to become stronger than ever before. It was clear that these films had a firm grasp on the collective cultural pulse, and while a lot of them were made contemporaneously with the events depicted (such as the films of Vittorio de Sica and Roberto Rossellini), there have been frequent attempts over the years to revisit both these themes, many of which have proven to be quite exceptional, but not quite capture the spirit of the period quite as well as we may have anticipated. There’s Still Tomorrow is yet another effort to return to this era, with some considerable differences in terms of perspective. Many of those early neo-realist films were directed by men and told quite masculine stories (although their portrayal of women was often quite compassionate), which makes the idea of a female filmmaker venturing into the period to present her interpretation of the events following the end of the Second World War and a new period in Italian history all the more compelling. Cortellesi uses the conflict as the contextual backdrop and chooses to focus more on a specific moment, namely the elections of 1946, where women were finally allowed to vote, with a staggering 89% of adult Italian women flocking to the polls to cast their ballot, which essentially shifted the country into a new era, one where the patriarchy was no longer as powerful as it was in the past. However, the film uses this moment as its terminal destination, with the journey there being a captivating and poignant examination of gender roles, as seen through the perspective of a woman who has become so weatherworn by the patriarchy and the toxicity of domestic life, she can no longer remain silent and instead begins to rebel in her way – at first informally through small actions that defy the men who believe they have a right to dictate her life, but then eventually developing the courage to make a more formal declaration of her independence.

In addition to this being her directorial debut, Cortellesi also portrays the protagonist of There’s Still Tomorrow, which is impressive considering both the scope of the film (which is much more complex than many debuts) and the extent to which the story is defined by the character, who is far more than a one-dimensional archetype and needed a deeply layered, well-crafted performance to feel genuine. She is nonetheless absolutely remarkable, which is hardly a surprise considering her previous work demonstrating her keen attention to detail when it comes to her portrayals. Nevertheless, we can see how this film challenged her as both a director and performer, especially since the entire narrative revolves around her growth as a character, which develops in real-time as the film progresses and we are given more access into her mind. However, this film also benefits from a strong supporting ensemble, who are arguably just as important to the narrative as Cortellesi’s lead character – Valerio Mastandrea is a very effective villain, playing the abusive husband in such a way that we can understand why he feels like he has to assert dominance over his wife as the result of being a product of his time, but never once making us feel an ounce of sympathy for someone who is genuinely guided by his belief that the only way to be a father and husband is through violence and cruelty, as it was all he learned from the generations that came before him. Romana Maggiora Vergano delivers a soulful performance as the daughter navigating the ambigious space between adolescence and adulthood, and who is ultimately caught between following the traditions instilled in her by society, or taking the leap towards independence, something she only begins to realize when her mother actively forces her out of an engagement that she knows will take her child down the same path and instead allows her to get an education. Even very small performances by Emanuela Fanelli, Vinicio Marchioni and Yonv Joseph prove to be consequential, as they act as a Greek chorus that guides Delia in deciding to pursue independence. The cast finds so much nuance in these characters and works to create this vivid tapestry of working-class life in the 1940s, as well as adding many additional layers to a film that only benefits from such unexpectedly wonderful work across the board.

Thematically and in terms of characterization, There’s Still Tomorrow is an incredible achievement, but the element that allows it to verge on being an absolute masterwork comes in the execution of its ideas. It isn’t enough to just evoke the themes of a classic neo-realist narrative, it also needs to look the part, and the director asserts all of her effort into replicating the atmosphere of the period. The film is shot in gorgeous black-and-white, with every frame being striking and filled with texture and detail, looking as if it was plucked directly out of the late 1940s in terms of both its compositions and the detail to production design and costuming, all of which evokes a very specific period in the past, rather than being a blatant period piece without much substance. This works in tandem with the tonal elements, which oscillate between delightfully funny and deeply melancholic, the combination of the various emotions being amongst the most memorable aspects of the film – neo-realism is not only about providing a simple, unfurnished depiction of life at a particular point in the past but also evoking strong emotions that are both effective and entirely natural. A few additional elements are lingering beneath the surface of the film that doesn’t restrict it solely to neo-realism (so any attempt to look at it as a purely accurate homage is incorrect), with some unique directorial flourishes that make it even more intriguing. There’s a sense of magical realism that emerges through the cracks at unexpected moments and which adds to the texture of the film – a moment of domestic violence is choreographed as if it were a passionate dance, the occasional fantasy sequence in which the protagonist dreams of her ideal life, and the final striking moments where she triumphantly ascends to her newfound independence from a system that has mistreated her for decades are all exceptionally well-constructed and give There’s Still Tomorrow much more meaning. Even some intentional anachronisms (such as the use of the song “B.O.B” by Outkast in a pivotal scene) are meaningful, bringing so much complexity to an already bold and ambitious work.

There is a sense of both urgency and affection that drives this film and makes it such a beautifully poetic and complex work, which proves to be the precise quality that elevates There’s Still Tomorrow to be much more than a simple drama about female independence. Instead, it flourishes into a layered character-driven story about finding yourself in a world that was initially not designed for your success, but which has suddenly undergone changes, not arbitrarily but through the efforts of enough people who stand up and demand their voices be heard. It’s a triumphant, beautiful comedy that is as gentle as it is impactful. From the construction of a protagonist driven by her elegance and sangfroid which allows her to defy social conventions and instead pursue her path towards happiness, to the incredible filmmaking that is simmering with complexity and humanity, as well as a very distinct visual aesthetic that reminds us of a bygone era in Italian cinema, which is beautifully honoured by the director. Cortellesi seamlessly moves into the role of a director and proves to be a potentially essential voice in contemporary filmmaking, crafting a sophisticated and heartfelt tribute to the women who fought for the right to have their voices heard and allowed the country to undergo massive changes that changed the culture and made it far more accepting for those who were previously the victims of a patriarchal system. The blend of heartfelt humour and well-placed melancholy makes There’s Still Tomorrow a profoundly captivating, funny film about fighting for the right to exist, and while it may sometimes veer towards depending on its flights of fancy, it is nonetheless an exceptionally compelling film that is filled to the brim with heart and soul and leaves a considerable impression with the viewer, who will inevitably be entirely moved by this charming, irreverent story of Italy’s past, as seen through a very unique perspective.