Corpo Celeste

Rohrwacher almost overplays her metaphors, but her understated characterizations, cinematographer Hélène Louvart's rapturous range, and especially Vianello's eerie grace combine to make Corpo Celeste the ideal cinematic antidote to the summer doldrums.

With echoes of the Dardennes and Lucrecia Martel, Corpo Celeste's acute sense of place, feel for adolescent confusion and miraculous resolution suggest that Rohrwacher is a talent to watch.

Quietly compelling, the cerebral slice of social realism is well worth hunting down.

Once Corpo Celeste began to recede a little in my rearview mirror, my initial impatience softened a little.

Rohrwacher's picture offers a Dardennes-esque look at a working-class teen's growing pains in a backwater parish in southern Italy. Minor tonal inconsistencies are overcome by this intimate tale's naturalistic thesping and loose lensing style.

An accomplished debut.

Ms. Rohrwacher combines a documentary impulse (effective in family scenes) with a more allegorical one. Her film gets clunky when allegory has the upper hand, and that means Corpo Celeste often stumbles, along with its 12-year-old heroine, Marta (Yle Vianello).