I’ve always been fascinated by public figures who are extremely famous in certain parts of the world (particularly in their home countries), but remain entirely obscure to outsiders. Not only does this allow us to make some fascinating observations on the nature of fame and celebrity (indicating that geographical and temporal borders are often much stronger than we expect), but it also gives those curious to discover new talents the chance to learn about fascinating figures and the role they played in defining a culture. Francesco Maresco has had quite a career built around examining certain aspects of Italian society and culture around the time he grew up, each of his films being a memorable excursion into the past, and these two ideas complement each other beautifully in the form of Bravo Bene! (otherwise known in Italian as Un film fato per Bene, a wonderful pun that means “a film made well”, playing on the last name of the subject), In which we are introduced to Carmelo Bene, who the director posits was a widely beloved comedic actor and director whose work defined an entire generation. While he is relatively well-known within cinephile circles in Italy, he is slightly more obscure, particularly in terms of contemporary audiences, who likely have not had the privilege of exploring his work for themselves. The film immediately distinguishes itself from traditional documentary structure, setting out to undermine the act of telling such a story, and prioritising the concept of failure, something that has been quite central to a lot of Maresco’s work, a theme that fascinates him and propels him to continuously decline to follow the rules of a medium he claims to have mastered, echoing the very principles that Bene himself found so valuable.

To be clear, Bravo Bene! is marketed as a documentary, but it is really a spoof of a very specific kind of non-fiction filmmaking, that of world-renowned directors trying to make their masterpiece, but running into constant troubles. It evokes the likes of Lost in La Mancha and NAME, depictions of Terry Gilliam and Werner Herzog, respectively, as they attempt to mount ambitious productions. Maresco constructs this project as a “metafilm”, basing the subject around the collapse of a production, deliberately drawing attention to its unfinished, fractured state in increasingly amusing, chaotic ways, and showing the challenges that occur behind the scenes – only heightened to the point where we (much like the director and his cohorts) can only laugh or shudder in horror, with both being a legitimate option as well. The disintegration of a passion project is a fascinating approach, and Maresco dramatises the act of making a masterpiece through an active critique built around destruction at the hand of the maker himself. Bene may be the focal point, or at least the impetus, but Bravo Bene! is actually about Maresco himself, asking a few very simple questions that he realises don’t have answers. Maresco sets out to paint a vibrant portrait of Bene, examining his artistry through an attempt to understand his personality, ideologies and artistic process – and once it becomes clear that the subject is simply too difficult to comprehend, the film collapses into chaos, being a bundle of off-kilter ideas that are the foundation for a genuinely funny, daring work of art. Maresco himself defines Bravo Bene! as being about what he terms “filmicide”, described as the death of a film by its own creation, and this metaphor lingers heavily over the film, which may be intentionally built around the act of failure, but still makes some astute observations. Repeated accidents, the endless takes and the eventual abandonment of the film-within-a-film all reinforce this subject, contributing to the overarching atmosphere of doom, confronting the spectacle of destruction in a hilarious and irreverent manner.

Thematically, there is a lot to choose from when looking at Bravo Bene!, which is built around the act of artistic self-destruction as both a byproduct of over-the-top ambition and a redeeming quality. Without the seemingly misguided act of allowing a madman to wield a camera from time to time, we’d not have some of the greatest works in cinema – and while it may seem pompous for someone like Maresco to make such a statement, he does earn the chance to position himself as a visionary, albeit one that is very much still deeply flawed. He actively describes his films as traps that he willingly walks into; this film is a detailed depiction of his destructive impulse in action. His anger intermingles with his wicked sense of humour, which makes Carmelo Bene such an appropriate subject, since he was also someone who was not only a beloved artist but a corrosive cultural force, someone who did not bend to conventions and was often punished for his radical vision. This allows Maresco the space to investigate the thin membrane between truth and performance – not only is Bravo Bene! a mockumentary masquerading as an authentic piece of non-fiction filmmaking, but it challenges the very idea that documentary and fiction are entirely separate entitities, beign a fervent (and frequently funny) reminder that the act of recalling memories and recreating them as testimonies is in itself a performance, and that therefore it loses some authenticity, as Maresco (much like Bene) believes that every one of us are actors in our own unique, unconventional way. The style is sharp and playful – a fragmented structure built around unreliable testimonies (we never know who in this film is an actor playing a part, and who are actual experts on the subject – this ambiguity is beautifully exploited throughout the film), with a never-ending supply of contradiction and some abrupt shifts in tone throughout. It’s formally very inventive, stimulating us in the same way as an investigative documentary, which Maresco seamlessly blends with performance art to create something both daring (particularly in how the film eventually becomes something of a personal statement, the interview booth being a confessional) and based around some fascinating observations on the nature of obsession.

Bravo Bene! Does takes its time to reach a particular point, and it’s perfectly valid to feel that it is not entirely successful in saying what it intended to convey, which is all part of the process of witnessing Maresco’s urgent and uncompromising vision, or at least what he leads us to believe is the case here. Two narrative strands inform this film, namely a loving tribute to Bene and his body of work, and a layered expose on Maresco, who portrays himself to be extremely volatile and vulnerable, a departure from the tendency for directors to position themselves as the only sane voice in a chaotic world. It has a lot of emotional honesty, with the very funny moments working in tandem with his refusal to shield his despair. It does have many fascinating merits scattered throughout, and even if we just want to view it as an entry point into discussion on Bene and the Italian avant-garde movement, it does make some interesting statements on the act of honouring a legacy while still refusing to allow it to eclipse one’s own vision. It is objectively indulgent, and borders on being a vanity project – the self-referential structure is risky, and threatens to alienate viewers who may not be entirely aware of he cultural context. This is only made more challenging by the uneven pacing and the unconventional structure, defined by the constant tone shifts that blur dark humour and bitter, sardonic fury, removing coherence but making Bravo Bene! An exceptionally compelling work all on its own. It provides a scathing deconstruction of Maresco’s artistic process, which is shown to be not just an interminable cycle of bold ideas, but rather a harrowing, darkly comedic dissection of despair, failure and the ensuing rage that comes when an entire cultural landscape gradually begins to collapse, showing that destruction caused through the act of creation is truly inseparable.

How does one actually go about making a film about someone whose reputation extends beyond fame and instead becomes about notoriety, and still have it be not only compelling to those who are familiar with his work but also accessible to outsiders? The answer is that it’s not entirely possible – Bravo Bene! is not a film made for those who don’t have a strong working knowledge of avant-garde Italian theatre and cinema, and several jokes and references go right over our heads. Yet, we can’t help but be wholeheartedly charmed by this film, which is less about understanding every detail and more about the underlying subject matter, which is far more resonant and instantly recognisable. Art is something that is not always easy to create, and it can sometimes drive even the most logical of people to the brink of madness, which is exactly what we see occurring throughout this film. It may be heavily fictionalised, but it still contains some relevant points that gradually develop as the film progresses. Needless to say, Bravo Bene! is a resounding success, showing its process of transforming creative failure into a meditation on rage, despair and the inevitability of finding obstacles, some of which are placed there deliberately. Yet, even the most harrowing forms of destruction can become a form of expression, which is an observation that we come to notice quite late in the film, but which is certainly not negatively impacted. Bravo Bene! is going to alienate many viewers, since it blurs the lines between creation and artistic implosion, using older references and cultural nuances to create something much more thought-provoking and challenging for the audience. Whether we perceive it as an exercise in self-indulgence or a portrait of self-sacrifice (although a combination is probably a wise approach), Bravo Bene! Insists on the necessity of challenging the borders of cinema and redefining it in your own unique way.