Gianfranco Rosi, the director of the documentary In Viaggio, seemingly has little interest in Pope Francis’ spiritual life. Primarily through archival footage, Rosi follows The Bishop of Rome as he travels throughout the world. If he mentions God, it’s almost incidental. Instead, he talks in practical terms about living well, or the major ills of the world. In other words, this film is not a biography of Francis, and most of the meaning must be found in the subtext of Rosi’s edit. An unusual approach like this requires careful viewing, but if it illuminates anything about its subject, it’s in a roundabout way. By seeing Francis’ approach to public life, we have only some sense of him as a man.
The opening images serve as a statement of purpose. We do not see The Vatican or a church, and instead hear the desperate audio of drowning migrants. Rosi matches the sound against a satellite–perhaps technology is a modern miracle. But the needless suffering is the point, so when we hear Francis talk about the dead and their desperation, he sounds shaken. The migrant crisis, along with the futility of war and the dangers of climate change, are Francis’ primary areas of focus (at least in this version of his papacy). He discusses his favorite topics when he travels in halls of power or a poverty-stricken city, his ubiquitous pope-mobile serving as his only constant. There are many, many scenes with the camera perched just above and behind Francis’ head, allowing the viewer to share his point of view during his most common connection with ordinary people: waving at onlookers.
In Viaggio is mostly chronological, starting at the beginning of the Francis papacy in 2013. Sometimes he sounds animated – usually when he speaks Spanish or returns to his native South America – but a lot of the time, he speaks quietly and chooses his words carefully (when he speaks before Congress in 2015, he might have made some older Senators nod off). With the archival conceit, perhaps Rosi wants to suggest some kind of objectivity, but if anything, the approach is all the more one-sided. Everything we see and hear is carefully controlled, including less “guarded” moments like when Francis apologizes for an off-the-cuff remark about the Catholic Church’s ongoing sex scandals, or speaks with convicts in a Mexican prison. This film wants us to ignore the church’s corruption and power, suggesting the Pope is merely a carefully-guarded advocate for the downtrodden. Francis may have more empathy than his predecessors, and yet we must not forget nothing could be further from the truth.
Even after taking the whitewashing into account, it is difficult to know what Rosi thinks of his subject. He could be a skeptic who wishes to paint Francis in a secular light, or he could be a devoted Catholic that sees Francis’ comments as an extension of God’s will. Absent that clarity, In Viaggio is a kind of Rorschach test, a canvas for our own biases, hang-ups and personal histories. If the film has any meaning, it is through the context of crowds and differing approaches to national security. The Brazilian people and authorities treat him significantly different than those in Iraq, The United States, Central African Republic and so on. These little differences are more meaningful than Francis’ inroads with politicians or his sit-downs with leaders in Islam or Eastern Orthodoxy. The Pope and what he represents only have meaning because we give it to him, and that’s never clearer when – underneath his gentle smile and constant waving – he bends state power to his institution’s will.
Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures
The post In Viaggio appeared first on Spectrum Culture.