Roberta Torre’s spasmodic Lost Kisses is a missed opportunity. This lackadaisical film about a 13 year old girl in the town of Librino revered for a vision and subsequently treated by the local community as a saint, fails to capitalise on its best ideas.

Manuela (Carla Marchese) is a quiet girl, overshadowed by her extroverted sister and outspoken mother (Donatella Finochiarro) who promptly kicks her no good, unemployed husband out. In a nearby square, a statue of the Madonna has recently been unveiled, but it’s not long before a group of curfew-breaking boys fooling around with a soccer ball, knock the Holy One’s head clean off. They stash the evidence but aren’t counting on the power from above about to be granted to Manuela. The next day, she informs the local priest and police of the head’s whereabouts and is promptly proclaimed as a saint.

The locals flock to get a look at her, many thrusting money into Manuela’s mother’s hands for the privilege. We can see the dollars ringing up in her head even as she half-heartedly attempts to dissuade them from some generosity. Has Manuela really been empowered with divine gifts? Or is she a fraud whose lone vision was just some kind of fluke?

The religious symbolism of the early scenes foreshadows the film’s central themes, but rather than vigorously subvert the subject matter with unbridled satire or deeper characterisation, Lost Kisses forfeits its potential to mediocrity. Torre is content to gently guide the participants along a safe pathway; effectively she’s sitting on the fence - almost as if waiting divine inspiration herself about what direction to take this slowly dissolving drama.

The acting is of the rudimentary variety; it’s not noticeably bad but then there’s nothing close to a standout. Marchese has an interesting, photogenic face, I’ll grant her that. Local colour is provided by the clucky women who converge on the local hairdressers where Manuela occasionally fulfils menial duties.

Ultimately, the inert Lost Kisses, inoffensively watchable for its short 80 minutes, simply exists. There are some deft dreamlike sequences either utilising Manuela’s scrapbooks or further hinting at the possibility of her powers; these, at least, break up the standard set-ups and dialogue, as well as the generally uninteresting visual approach.



I say: An amiable drama-comedy that wishes it were an insightful religious satire but comes up well short.

See it for: The ending which may be the best thing about it, throwing a thought-provoking spanner in the works.