Based on the 2016 novel by Ermanno Rea, lauded Italian director Mario Martone takes a poignant, meandering stroll down memory lane with Nostalgia. Set over two time periods in Naples, the film follows Felice Lasco (Pierfrancesco Favino), returning home for the first time in 40 years to care for his ailing mother (Aurora Quattrocchi) – now living in squalor in the slums of Rione Sanitá, he’s shocked to discover.

After moving her into a more comfortable home, Felice sets about rediscovering his old neighbourhood, learning that turf wars between gangs have cast a fearful shadow over all who live there: young men and boys lurk around corners and idly shoot guns into the air as they ride down the winding streets on motorbikes.

Flashbacks to Felice’s teenage years reveal his friendship with a young, platinum-haired boy known only as Oreste (Tommaso Ragno). While Felice left Italy for Egypt without looking back, Oreste remained and has since become a criminal kingpin in the Neapolitan Camorra. Once inseparable, now relative strangers, it seems inevitable that their paths will cross once more, likely for the last time. 

Italian crime dramas (American-Italian one in particular) often present glamourised versions of their subject, heightening the highs and lows of mafia life – wealth, sex, notoriety, murder and betrayals – to almost operatic degrees at times. Nostalgia is the antithesis of this: Oreste calls his home a “prison”, whereas Felice sees his childhood playground.

On a surface level, one could glean that Martone is weaving a cautionary tale about the dangers of nostalgia itself, an idea that certainly holds powerful sway in today’s backwards-looking zeitgeist. However, one line of dialogue from Oreste – “the past doesn’t exist” – telegraphs its real meaning. Much of the film has Felice doing little other than wandering leisurely around cobblestoned streets, sipping espresso and revisiting old haunts. Martone’s pace is equally unhurried and the way he shoots as gentle as his protagonist, drinking in the sights with him; fading between the past and present to illustrate how much or little has changed. Eventually, the barrier between the two feels entirely superficial – a window into Felice’s frame of mind.

While effective, Nostalgia does begin to drag after the midway point. Once you understand what is being said and where the story is leading, there’s little else to appreciate than just more of the same: there are only so many cafes you can watch Felice sit and do nothing at before it becomes a bit self-indulgent. Still, it’s hard to deny that Martone has crafted a pensive and wistful drama, as rich and bittersweet as Italian coffee. 

Dir. Mario Martone (117 mins, 12A)

Nostalgia is out in cinemas from Fri 17 Feb 

words HANNAH COLLINS