Rating: NR | Runtime: 93 minutes
Release Date: October 13th, 2022 (Italy) / July 7th, 2023 (USA)
Studio: I Wonder Pictures / Oscilloscope Laboratories
Director(s): Carolina Cavalli
Writer(s): Carolina Cavalli

Imagine there’s a third way.

It seems like Wes Anderson has become the main comparison point people have been using to describe Carolina Cavalli’s Amanda, but I’d lean more towards calling it an arthouse Dumb and Dumber. And, as a long-time fan of that specific Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels vehicle, I say this with earnest affection. The moment that cemented the similarity was when Amanda (Benedetta Porcaroli) calls a local electronic shop about whether they’d buy a second-hand fan. She asks the person on the line for his name only to discover it matches the name of the store.

“You’re the Emilio?” The deadpan excitement in her voice and the pause necessary to process this development as though she were speaking with an international celebrity reminded me of that innocent if deranged naivete that supplied Lloyd and Harry with such charm. Amanda has it in spades. She’s just much smarter, more biting, and much more stubborn.

Privilege allows for those traits thanks to growing up as the daughter of the owners of a pharmacy franchise. Amanda received the education that demands she pedantically point out when someone’s observation is not a “story” despite his inference that it is and the financial safety net to be socially difficult beyond belief. She never therefore had any friends and the prospect of a boyfriend was always overshadowed by her mind’s need to overthink things until the moment silently passed her by.

She blames her mother (Monica Nappo’s emotionless Sofia) and her sister (Margherita Missoni’s Marina) for not understanding the plight of the little people even as she refuses to earn a living or give back to society in any way. She blames anyone and everyone around her because she can’t be the problem. It gets so bad that she wonders if the reason nothing good ever happens to her is because she’s never had anyone to listen to her describe those good things.

That’s where Rebecca (Galatéa Bellugi) comes in—the daughter of her mother’s best friend (Giovanna Mezzogiorno’s numb Viola) who might be even more messed up than her. Rebecca refuses to leave her room, afraid that people will make fun of her. It’s a psychological hang-up that may in fact be the product of remembering how her mother forced her to hang out with Amanda when they were younger because no one else wanted to.

After over a decade apart, they now come together as a last-ditch effort by their parents to salvage their own sanity. It’s a rocky reunion that only advances forward because Amanda is immovably persistent when she fixates on something. Having a best friend is that thing right now and making someone who’s prone to manipulation and apathy into that friend is the perfect choice because she’s therefore able to maintain control of the relationship.

Rather than find themselves fighting over someone else like Harry and Lloyd did with Mary Swanson, however, Amanda and Rebecca find themselves in a wrestling match to prove themselves more worthy of pity and thus purpose for their otherwise self-inflicted isolation. It’s a funny, off-beat journey through the indifference of entitlement and the lethargy of boredom with two women who’ve seemingly squandered their socio-economic head starts in life due to the satirical lack of ambition and initiative wealth inevitably instills.

Porcaroli is an absolute star, constantly being let down and rejected yet always prepared to put on a smile before lying about it so as not to admit defeat or show weakness. The comedy won’t appeal to everyone, and the narrative weight isn’t much deeper than that of a Dumb and Dumber, but its themes are clear and its quirk effective.

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Galatéa Bellugi and Benedetta Porcaroli in AMANDA; courtesy of Oscilloscope.