Fuori
There’s a stillness to Fuori that catches you off guard. Inspired by the life of Italian author Goliarda Sapienza – whose sprawling feminist novel The Art of Joy was long rejected by publishers before achieving posthumous success – Mario Martone’s film focuses not on triumph or recognition, but on what comes after: disappointment, arrest and the unlikely tenderness that emerges behind prison walls.
Set in 1980, the story opens with Goliarda (Valeria Golino) being shunned by Rome’s literary world following a stint in prison. The script wisely resists the urge to elicit easy sympathy. Instead, it allows Goliarda to find her footing both inside the prison and beyond it, among a group of younger women and fellow inmates – most notably Roberta (Matilda De Angelis), a twenty-something repeat offender with a sharp edge and a hidden vulnerability.
At first, the nature of the connection between Goliarda and Roberta is deliberately ambiguous. The actresses’ physical resemblance creates the illusion of a fractured family: Goliarda as a maternal figure fallen from grace and Roberta as her reckless, possibly estranged offspring. But that illusion is quickly dismantled, giving way to a special bond that resists easy categorisation. It’s emotional, certainly intense, but much is left unspoken – a choice that sometimes works in the film’s favour and sometimes not.
There are, however, moments that falter in sensitivity. A fully nude shared shower scene, intended to echo the communal showers of their time in prison, features their former cellmate Barbara (Elodie Di Patrizi) – who, inexplicably, keeps her scrunchie on as she begins washing her hair. The scene arrives without clear purpose or emotional weight. It feels like an unfortunate holdover from a more sensational brand of prison drama, undercutting the picture’s otherwise nuanced handling of its characters.
Beyond that, Fuori excels in its portrayal of solidarity without slipping into excessive sentimentality. Once the women are released, the movie drifts into a haze of petty crimes, half-kept promises and endless cups of coffee and glasses of whiskey under the blistering heat. By the end, Goliarda is reawakened – not by emotional connection, but by a renewed sense of purpose. Writing returns to her not as catharsis, but as intention.
There are no heroic arcs and no sweeping crescendos. What Fuori offers is something smaller and stranger: a meditation on failure, refusal and the quiet dignity of living – and creating – outside the systems that never made space for you.
Christina Yang
Fuori does not have a release date yet.
Read more reviews from our Cannes Film Festival coverage here.
For further information about the event visit the Cannes Film Festival website here.
Watch the trailer for Fuori here:
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