How does one begin to describe a city? Do you examine the architecture and how it has evolved? Or is it a case of exploring the culture through the generations of people who have called it their home? Perhaps the most effective approach would be to simply choose one aspect and allow the rest to flourish naturally. This has often been the root of why Gianfranco Rosi’s films are so compelling – he approaches cities and their people in much the same manner a great novelist composes their best work, choosing different fragments and then presenting them in lively, memorable ways. This applies to his socially-charged films like Fire at Sea, but also his more intimate, subtle works, which is the case with Below the Cloud (Italian: Sotto le nuvole), in which he presents a portrait of Naples, which many consider more than a city but rather a living, breathing historical artefact, which has always been the root of its appeal. From Roberto Rossellini to Billy Wilder to Paolo Sorrentino, the idyllic coastal region has been appealing to so many fantastic filmmakers. Rosi is one of them, and he crafts a compelling documentary that presents Naples as both a living city, filled with vibrant culture and eccentric personalities, and a geographical archive, defined by eruptions, ruins and thousands of years of historical events, all of which go into the construction of this poignant, complex examination of the endurance of everyday life. A simple film with ideas far larger than can be condensed into mere words, Below the Clouds is most appropriately described as a story of a city and its people, a testament to not only the past, but also the present and how they interweave in surprising and complex ways. Another very strong effort from a filmmaker whose perspective and insights are never anything short of entirely valuable, as exemplified beautifully throughout this wonderful film.

The concept of “living history” is often associated with dull, overly pretentious history courses, but it certainly is not restricted to only these more dour scenarios, as made quite evident by Below the Clouds, in which Rosi constructs the film as the perpetual movement between the ancient and modern worlds, which he views as entirely in dialogue with one another. Time may be chronological, but it also exists as a back-and-forth, the past informing the present in very curious ways. The approach he takes here is to make the bold suggestion that time is not one moment after another, but an ever-evolving series of layers of the same location – architecture may be altered, the feet walking the streets will definitely change, and there will be particular aspects that erode as time progresses, but the terrain stays the same. The centrepiece of this film – and perhaps the aspect that first inspired Rosi to tell this story – is the various historical landmarks, which have been carefully unearthed over time and presented as fragments of the past. The ruins of Pompeii at the foot of Mount Vesuvius are the focal point, as are Somma Vesuviana and Herculaneum, other ancient towns that populate the region and have long, storied histories. Instead of taking an overly didactic view in which they are presented as inert museums containing nothing more than remnants of the past, the director implies that they are dynamic spaces in which people can have encounters with history through immersing themselves in not only the stories, but also the atmosphere of being surrounded by these artefacts, both tangible and metaphorical. Rosi attempts to contrast the historical context with real-world elements, creating a sense of continuity between the past and present, echoed by the precise, sharp approach to filmmaking.

Understanding the past is an active, ongoing process that requires looking at how life has changed, and Below the Clouds draws a very simple set of parallels between Naples in the ancient era and today. Rosi fixates on many elements that seem profoundly modern – animals being trained, farmers unloading grain, trains chugging along through the landscape, and emergency service workers attempting to keep the entire community safe. These are all extremely modern concepts, or at least recognisable as such, but the manner in which Rosi presents them feels like he is already looking at them as remnants of the past. What we don’t realise that we are currently sitting in the ruins of the future – not in the sense that we’re going to suffer the same decline as the Roman Empire, but rather that time ages even the sturdiest of buildings, and that they’ll either be demolished and replaced by something far more modern in the future, or they’ll remain standing in a state of beautiful decay. Our homes, workplaces and the streets we walk are destined to become additions to an ongoing archive of the past. It’s a concept that may not make sense when described, but is perfectly understood when we see how Rosi constructs this film, creating a series of shifts that are not contrasts, but rather continuities – what we do today exists in service of the archaeological discoveries of the future. The focus shifts between viewing Naples as a metaphorical time machine of sorts and a firm, rigorous assessment of the human lives that have called it their home over time. The ancient people who walked those streets were just as valid in their belief that it was their home as the people who exist today, and while it’s a subtle discussion, Below the Clouds explores it beautifully, and in such vivid detail.

Yet, the quality that binds Below the Clouds together and makes it so incredibly moving comes in how it portrays the encounters between people, each of whom is shown to have relatively small duties, but which Rosi reframes to have firm responsibilities when assessing their role in the weight of history. The findings of highly-skilled archaeologists are viewed with the same scrutiny and curiosity as the daily routine of school teachers, firefighters and the droves of tourists that make their way through this city. Both residents and visitors are put into focus throughout this film, their individual experiences being pieced together to create a vibrant, complex tapestry. This is the true spectacle of Naples – not the stunning architecture or historical context in which they exist, but rather the cultural atmosphere, the people who make it such a beautiful part of the world. Without them, this region would likely just be a forgotten ruin – stunning to look at and explore, but lifeless and aloof. Rosi pushes forward, showing precisely why Naples is such an important city, a cultural hub in the same way that it is a remnant of ancient history. The brilliance of this film comes in precisely how he approaches these ideas – there is no narration, and on-screen text delivering context is kept to a minimum. The story of Naples and its history is told through the people who exist there now, the past embedded in their daily routines and perpetual curiosities. The landscape is not merely a backdrop, but an active participant – we often see films in which the city becomes a character, and Rosi is certainly not precious about how he captures Naples, showing reverence but also not afraid of underlining areas in which it is flawed. The imperfections are often the most beautiful part of ancient cities, since with decay and natural deterioration comes the fervent reminder that life is not static, and that time erodes even the most firm foundations.

Below the Clouds is not a film that can be described in any conventional terms since it is not intended to be viewed as a traditional documentary, making any attempt to assert a logical structure on it almost impossible. It’s a film driven by its mood and images more than a coherent storyline. Rosi bounces between scenes, connecting them solely through their geographical proximity and loose relationship to the overall themes that govern the film. The choice to film in black-and-white seems like a simple decision based on Rosi’s artistic sensibilities, but it has a deeper purpose in the fact that it unifies the past and present, creating an even keel between the past and present, and giving off the illusion that the modern scenes are as visually striking as the archaeological remains of the past. Rosi plays with light and shadow (it is one of the most beautifully-made films of the year), and the simplicity of his camerawork underlines his incredible skill as not only a storyteller, but a visual stylist. He’s carving a portrait of a city carved in stone, ash and smoke, and while Naples is still a modern city insofar as it remains vibrant and energetic, the lingering nature of the past is never taken for granted. We can describe Below the Clouds as an act of excavation in itself, the director digging beneath the surface to reveal unexpected connections between eras. In the process, he gives meaning to some seemingly trivial concepts, adding nuances where we may not expect to find them, and creating a film that is fervent in its dedication to a simple but evocative premise. There is no hierarchy in terms of which information is portrayed more effectively – every perspective is equal and meaningful in its own way, each gesture and candid moment carrying equal weight as this film sets forward to examine the day-to-day life of a city that exists simultaneously in both the past and present.