Every now and then, we all need a reminder of our insignificance. We move through life believing ourselves to be important in some grandiose way, and while it is understandable to consider ourselves to be the protagonists of our own lives (it is simply within our nature), it is also important to put ourselves in context with the world that surrounds us. I find that there is nothing more humbling than visiting a historical site, since walking down the same paths and witnessing the surroundings that were occupied by people hundreds or thousands of years ago is an immediate way to put everything in perspective, helping us understand that we are just one small part of something far larger and more intimidating than any of us can imagine. This is where we find some of the most interesting commentary in La Gradiva, the directorial debut of Marine Atlan, who plumbs the emotional depths of the past in this gorgeous and sumptuous drama about the challenges that come with revisiting the uncomfortable aspects of history. The film is set over a few days and follows a group of French high school students as they go on a trip to Pompeii just before their graduation. What was clearly intended to be an opportunity to enrich their education is quickly proven to be irrelevant once it becomes obvious that each one of these students is dealing with their own personal quandaries, which occupy their minds, distracting them from their surroundings. Over the course of these few days, they bicker and reconcile, and attempt to understand some of life’s more challenging questions, their journey not being too dissimilar to the existential questions asked by the people who walked these same pathways over the centuries, while also leaving their own curiosities embedded in this mystical location. An incredibly beautiful film with bold ideas and a very striking execution, La Gradiva is a fascinating piece of filmmaking that captures our attention from the start and immediately establishes Atlan as one of the most interesting young directors to have emerged in the last few years, both in terms of the story she tells and how she brings it to life on screen.  

The process of revisiting the past is not always easy for any of us – there’s a reason many seem to prefer to keep certain events contained to distant memories, since it can be uncomfortable to have certain emotions re-emerging at inopportune moments, especially when trying to navigate a world that you don’t always understand. Atlan is doing something very interesting with this idea in La Gradiva, which looks at two very different kinds of memory: personal and collective, finding ways to weave between them and turning some of these more abstract ideas into something more concrete, even if only marginally. From the start, we know that we should not expect much in terms of an explanation around certain narrative decisions, and to instead just embrace the very dreamlike quality of the film, which lends La Gradiva the space to be quite unconventional in terms of the ideas it is exploring. Primarily, this is a story about the past and present becoming interwoven with each other, evoking conversations around how memories can be stored in the most unexpected places, not being restricted only to the mind, but also being embedded in the physical world. The sprawling landscapes of Pompeii carry the weight of both the initial trauma that transformed this urban hub into the site of one of the most tragic natural disasters of the ancient world, as well as the many people who moved through this space in the centuries since, each person bringing their own existential quandaries and philosophical curiosities, traces of which are inadvertently scattered across the region. This intermingles with the idea of each of these characters processing their unique problems while venturing through the ruins, attempting to make sense of their surroundings while also working through issues that may be shallow in the grander scheme of things, but which are a priority for them in that moment. It’s a concept that is difficult to describe without seeing it in practice, but this is all part of what makes La Gradiva so wonderfully hypnotic and engaging, even at its most intentionally aloof and impenetrable.

However, what we do find anchors La Gradiva more than the historical context is the theme of growing up, which is perhaps the single most important aspect of this film, and the part that demands the most attention, since this is where the majority of the story ultimately flourishes, building from a simple but profoundly moving premise that propels the majority of the themes at the heart of the film. This narrative could’ve been told through the perspective of any protagonist, regardless of age or background (or even historical era – there could’ve been fascinating insights delivered had the film been set in any period, especially since Pompeii has been a source of so much fascination for centuries), but it is only through Atlan choosing to develop a story that reflects the modern world as she understands it that we find the film truly taking shape. Ultimately, as much as the historical context of the film is invigorating and fascinating, the reality is that La Gradiva is primarily a coming-of-age story about a group of teenagers navigating that awkward space between adolescence and adulthood. They’re very much aware that this trip, as banal and didactic as it may be, represents some of the final vestiges of their reckless teenage years, where they can indulge in whatever lighthearted debauchery and mischievous irresponsibility without any genuine consequences, at least not anything that will last particularly long, which gives them a sense of freedom but also doesn’t give them the chance to learn from their mistakes. Yet, the realisation that they are growing older, and that this lighthearted hedonism has a limit to it, plunges them all into a state of existential despair: the sudden understanding that life will be changing for them imminently being something that they all choose to deliberately ignore, fending off those reminders as long as possible. The film eventually becomes a coming-of-age story about a few young people attempting to make sense of the world into which they were inadvertently brought, questioning their identity and purpose, all the while trying to present a particular image to the surrounding world in the hopes that no one will see beyond the façade. It’s a brilliantly captivating approach to exploring the ordeal that comes with growing up, and one that Atlan executes with precision and wholehearted commitment to a more challenging premise.

There are certainly many layers to La Gradiva, and you’d be forgiven for anticipating a very dense, complex film that attempts to compress every aspect of the human condition into a relatively short running time, comparable to the sheer scope of conceptual territory being covered, since even the most expansive and seemingly infinite of approaches would not have even come close to covering the staggering amount of conceptual ground that is presented throughout this film, which only barely scratches the surface. However, what we do discover as soon as the film starts is that, in spite of its layered meaning and very bold concept that drives the narrative, this is a relatively simple and straightforward work, one that is as much about the story as it is about the execution of those ideas, which is equally as important in establishing a very clear approach. Atlan is evidently someone who understands that tone, more than anything else, is what guides such an ambitious premise, and she goes out of her way to create a film that is primarily driven by its atmosphere. The dreamlike tone is only the start, since she employs the classical technique of presenting a coming-of-age story as a series of episodic moments, switching rapidly between perspectives, without a singular protagonist, but rather where the entire ensemble carries the weight of the story equally (Colas Quignard in particular stands out as the young man questioning his identity and whose journey we follow the most closely, as does Suzanne Gerin as the insecure young woman trying to simply exist in an environment that is openly hostile to her, and Antonia Buresi as the beleaguered teacher who is only attempting to educate the students, who have seemingly other priorities), and where the entire story is built around the usual stream-of-consciousness structure that we often find in the most meaningful of stories based on the act of growing up in a world that is evidently so much more confusing than it had any right to be, at least according to these characters.

La Gradiva is a film that does require the viewer to be capable of grasping onto a very particular wavelength and being willing to surrender to more unconventional aspects of the story. It is slightly longer than many films that tackle similar subject matter (clocking in at nearly 150 minutes), and its more deliberate pace does demand a bit of patience, at least in the early portions of the film when Atlan is in the process of establishing the core themes and overall execution of these ideas. It’s a tremendous calling card for her as a director – not many people are capable of making such an ambitious decision to start their career with something so daring, especially a film that demands attention from the viewer, at least in terms of picking up the underlying cues that ultimately drive this story and make it so wonderfully engaging. It does often take on the form of a “hangout” film, in which we follow a group of characters over the course of a few days, observing their day-to-day routine without any major dramatic arcs (although there are a few developments towards the end of the film that lead to a very melancholic conclusion), focusing more on the intricate connections being formed between these people as they attempt to forge lifelong friendships, but know that their time together is limited with their impending graduation and the inevitable separation that emerges in the aftermath. It’s an incredibly beautiful film, both in its visual aesthetic – the way Atlan captures Pompeii and its surroundings is arguably the most beautiful the region has ever looked, with so much care being put into absolutely every detail – and its underlying message, which reflects something so much deeper and more profound: an astonishing examination of the fragility of life, the unpredictability of the future and the often challenging process of embracing a world that can be both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. Simple in concept but audacious in execution, La Gradiva is a fascinating and deeply moving work that pushes beyond the boundaries and captures something so incredibly striking that it lingers with the viewer long after those haunting final moments, staying in our minds until we’ve fully processed its many complex layers.