Nowhere Special (2020)

“Nowhere Special,” which had its world premiere at the Orizzonti section of the 77th Venice Film Festival in 2020, marks the third feature film by writer-producer-director Uberto Pasolini. Centering on the toughest decision in the life of a dying 35-year-old window cleaner, the film skillfully infiltrates the hearts of its audience with a cool-headed and humble approach that delicately avoids tragedy.

Pasolini, who complained about his own creativity, developed an interest in this story after seeing it in a newspaper and began researching it. After receiving rejection from social agencies due to confidentiality reasons, he constructed the screenplay based on interviews with real people in similar situations and window cleaners. Naming the film after a dialogue from Mel Brooks’ “Blazing Saddles” (A: “Where are you headed?” B: “Nowhere special.” A: “Always wanted to go there.”), Pasolini states that the concept behind it focuses on the necessity of finding a simple place to live without the pursuit of perfection.

The film opens with panoramic views of daily life reflected through windows. We then meet John, portrayed through his reflection on the windows he cleans; a 35-year-old single father facing a fatal brain tumor that will eventually separate him from life and his 4-year-old son, whom his mother abandoned years ago. Adding another layer of complexity to the situation, John has no relatives or close ones to leave his son with, so he must find a family who will adopt him as his inevitable death approaches. Throughout the film, father and son will be tested by life in the most difficult ways possible.

In a departure from the norm—opting for a child left to a dying father instead of a mother—Pasolini signals from the start that many dramatic clichés will not be seen in the rest of the film. The almost natural harmony between father and son is immediately noticeable; their communication through gestures and facial expressions speaks volumes without the need for words. For Michael, his father John is a role model whose tattoos he even wants to mimic, their bond being their sole and strongest connection to life. The camera reinforces this by descending to the child’s level, capturing the small moments of joy and conflict that feed the parent-child relationship with utmost naturalness. The film focuses on the simple events of daily life; joys, sorrows, difficulties, unchangeable situations, and the difficulty of coping with them. In the face of adversity, John emerges as a father figure who does not give up but accepts the realities and makes rational decisions despite the difficulty of his situation. Apart from the challenge of planning for his impending death, John also ponders the question “What makes a family ideal?”

During visits to the adoption agency and prospective families’ homes, John assesses the candidates both financially and emotionally. However, this is far from easy—he does not want his son to have the material privileges he never had, but his heart cannot bear to leave him in the loveless, commercialized, and dead lives of the decayed upper-middle class homes. As the son waits for the right moment to begin his life, the father prepares for death, and the film balances on the delicate scale between them. In this dilemma, the last thing the audience should do is judge John, whose decision becomes increasingly difficult with each passing moment.

Two of the few scenes of rebellion in the film occur when John sits with the social services officer in a café, his eyes filled with tears. The other is when he attacks his car in anger, a result of the frustration he feels due to his inability to live a “normal life” like others, hindered partly by the obstacles in his way.

The windows John cleans, which form a barrier separating him from life, also serve as a metaphor for his perspective on the lives of others, which he observes and can never experience; the reflections and observations. However, unlike the cliché of a voyeur, it’s not a peek into others’ lives but rather John’s inability to look at his own life. Through the reflections in all those foggy windows, we see the daily life and hustle and bustle that John will never experience, and his emotionally shattered state, not in tears but in the fragmented reflection in the bathroom mirror filled with medications. Just as he describes his illness through his medications and occasional bouts of pain without ever showing a hospital or doctor, information is not disclosed, words are not spoken unnecessarily, and we continue to watch the film with the minimum information required to understand what is happening. The film’s premise may be brief, but it has a lot to say. However, instead of words, a high-caliber moral story is presented with silence, gazes, and gestures. The audience’s expectation of emotionally charged scenes with exaggerated reactions is never met. Likewise, the character’s composure progresses on its own—the director skillfully avoids identifying the audience with the character. Remember, our first glimpse of John is not directly through his appearance but consciously through his reflection on the window.

The cold and dark nature of Northern Ireland adds another layer of gloom to the film. Like John, the film quietly dies, progressing slowly due to the nature of its story. As John’s hourglass slowly trickles toward his death, we too are helplessly dragged back and forth across the bridge, just like him and Michael. On Michael’s birthday, his remark, “Dad, you’re too old,” highlighting his father’s illness, which collapsed at the age of 35, also signals that he is not yet ready to leave. However, in the end, death is inevitable; it stands in the middle of the room like an elephant. The issue progresses not only with the choice of parents he will leave Michael with but more intensively through John’s confrontation with his own death. The book given by the adoption agency, the question raised over a dead insect during a park visit, the red balloon flying away… It’s only when John eventually accepts that he won’t be able to live that we see the appreciation for his current existence while facing his mortality. After this point, the film focuses on enjoying the present moment. Wavering between existence and non-existence, John finally chooses to leave his son with what he lacks in himself, thereby integrating his existence with his son’s and continuing through him. The film, despite having one of the most pessimistic endings possible due to the inevitable truth, leaves the audience with a bittersweet but optimistic picture as John accepts the unchangeable truths. As John silently bids farewell to his son, with the haunting gaze of little Michael, “Nowhere Special” seems poised to linger in your mind for quite some time.

Pasolini’s Italian origins (also being the nephew of Luchino Visconti) inevitably lead us to think of neorealism through the social injustices he addresses, yet while his heart-wrenching story has many elements that could easily be manipulative, he avoids this misconception from the start; only the sad music heard at the beginning and end serves as such an element. Everything in the film is given in moderation, neither lacking nor excessive. There is no need for additional tools to convince and emotionally affect the audience—natural acting enhances credibility, and the story itself has a profound impact. It is a simple but painful story that delicately unfolds in its own rhythm with subtle touches. While this overly controlled, understated drama could be criticized for suppressing emotions a bit too much and almost imprisoning them, Pasolini carefully avoids elevating the tragedy, placing his film in a space far from kitsch elements.

By adhering to English social realist cinema elements and containing a sympathy for the working class and lower class, it nods to Ken Loach, but the dosage of humor is definitely much lower than Loach’s. The social analysis, which is part of the story, is hidden in the background through criticism of class conflict. On one hand, he protests against the upper-class windows he cleans by deliberately dirtying them with eggs instead of words. Because actions speak louder than words.

Ultimately, the film returns to where it started, as John chooses to continue Michael’s life from the path of love rather than lavishly providing him with what he himself never had. In other words, by leaving Michael with what he himself lacks, John integrates his existence with his son’s and continues through him. Despite having one of the most pessimistic endings possible due to the inevitable truth, the film leaves the audience with a bittersweet but optimistic picture as John accepts the unchangeable truths. As John silently bids farewell to his son, with the haunting gaze of little Michael, “Nowhere Special” seems poised to linger in your mind for quite some time.

Nil Birinci