IO CAPITANO - Mark Reviews Movies

Io Capitano, Cohen Media Group

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | February 22, 2024

Every step of the journey in Io Capitano is fraught with peril. That is the reality for many migrants, escaping war or poverty or corruption or abuse or any other situation that would lead one to leave one's home, and if co-writer/director Matteo Garrone's film is a bit too contrived and far too optimistic to match that reality, it is still an effective piece of empathy-generation. We are right there—with a Senegalese teenager as he attempts to travel to Italy—for every step, for every terror, and for every passing moment of relief or victory.

Stories such as this need to be told, and while the specific telling of Garrone's story is too straightforward to be seen as anything other than a simplistic dramatization of the migrant experience, the film makes its main point with a sense of intimacy that makes us feel what that experience must be like. It removes politics from equation and cuts to the core, undeniable humanity of desperate people navigating a labyrinth of challenges, uncertainty, forces of nature, and cruelty. That this system is the result of politics that seem willing to deny the basic humanity of migrants is larger tragedy the filmmakers want us to face.

In an impoverished part of the Senegalese capital of Dakar, 16-year-old Seydou (Seydou Sarr) lives with his mother (played by Khady Sy) and sisters, goes to school, has a job in a workshop, and dreams of becoming a musician. He and his cousin Moussa (Moustapha Fall) have a secret plan to try to make that dream a reality. The two have been putting aside cash so they can leave Senegal and go to Europe, where they'll at least find some employment—if not musical stardom—that can better support their families.

There are doubts, of course. Seydou worries about leaving his mother and sisters alone and without his financial support for an unknown amount of time. The mother scolds him for even bringing up the notion of him leaving as a hypothetical, and the man in a market who could point the cousins in the direction of someone who can get them to Europe doesn't have encouraging words for them. He only has a warning: That way has been tried by many, has resulted in too many deaths to count, and is surely certain death for a pair of teenagers who have never left home.

They leave anyway, after offering prayers to the ancestors and receiving a blessing from a local priest. From here, the screenplay—written by Garrone, Massimo Ceccherini, Massimo Gaudioso, and Andrea Tagliaferri and inspired by stories from a group of real-life immigrants to Europe—takes the boys from one situation to the next. Some are as relatively easy as taking a bus to Mali, where a stern forger wastes no time for and offers no bargains to anyone in obtaining false passports.

Cash is a fluid resource here. The two have saved enough based on what they've heard, but that doesn't account for, as an example, a Malian solider who notes the cousins are wearing the same clothes as in their passport photos. Paying a bribe now may mean sacrificing something down the line, but not paying it would mean an immediate stop and a trip to prison.

There's a lot of waiting, as Seydou and Moussa join another group for a convoy across the Sahara. While doing so, a Senegalese man explains the risks of roving militants in the desert and that there's only one safe place to hide whatever money might be left after the previous expenses (Use your imagination).

What's fascinating about these early sections, before things become much tougher for the two, is that, despite all the warnings and obvious foreshadowing, these two teenagers are hopeful and even excited about their trek. Yes, the cynical way of looking at this mood is that it's so those feelings can be shattered later, but this naïveté helps to turn these two young characters into more than mere pawns in the struggles and dangers out of their control. Both Sarr, whose character takes over the story at a certain point, and Fall have a naturalistic way about their performances that makes them instantly recognizable and sympathetic.

Those qualities are essential, because the remainder of the story does constantly, repeatedly put the two through seemingly endless challenges. Nothing is easy. A ride through the desert in the back of a pick-up truck, with people balancing on the raised edges of the flatbed, becomes an exhausting effort to hold on for dear life, because the driver isn't stopping for anything or anyone. The same goes for the ensuing walk across the sands, where Seydou can only find comfort in dreaming of being able to help a woman who dies in his arms.

The rest—separation, imprisonment, torture, slavery, a potentially hopeless search, having the responsibility over the lives of those packed into a boat—is only bearable because the story is inherently hopeful, by way of those dreams, the willingness of other migrants to help, and Seydou's unflagging determination to survive and, later, ensure that others live. Io Capitano is filled with the conviction of telling a necessary story and offering some sense of this gruelingly human experience. The final shot, which stays on Seydou's face as he processes what may or may not happen, is akin to a question that Garrone leaves for us—and the world, for that matter—to answer.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products