La Chimera

The first thing you notice about Arthur is the suit. It’s a cream-colored linen number that has clearly seen better decades, now stained with the literal dust of the Etruscan dead. Josh O'Connor (whom you might know as the young, repressed Prince Charles in The Crown) wears this suit like a second skin—or perhaps a shroud. He looks less like a leading man and more like a man who was buried, forgotten, and then accidentally dug up by a construction crew.

I watched La Chimera on a Tuesday night while eating a bowl of lukewarm spaghetti that was definitely missing enough salt, and strangely, that mediocre meal felt like the perfect accompaniment. Alice Rohrwacher’s film is tactile, crumbly, and unpretentious. It’s a movie that isn't afraid to get dirt under its fingernails, celebrating a version of Italy that isn't found on a postcard, but rather in the damp, dark holes beneath the earth.

The Man with the Dowsing Rod

Arthur is an Englishman with a singular, supernatural gift: he can "feel" the void. Using a dowsing rod, he wanders the Italian countryside, stumbling until he senses the hollow space of an ancient, unlooted Etruscan tomb. He’s the reluctant leader of the tombaroli, a rowdy, musical, and borderline-feral gang of grave robbers who see history as a giant ATM.

While his accomplices—led by the boisterous Pirro (Vincenzo Nemolato)—are looking for gold to sell to a mysterious fence named Spartaco (Alba Rohrwacher), Arthur is looking for something else. He’s haunted by his lost love, Beniamina, and he suspects that if he digs deep enough, he might just find a door back to her. Josh O'Connor gives a performance so quiet and soulful that he makes the rest of the cast look like they’re in a silent-era slapstick comedy by comparison. It’s a brilliant contrast; he’s the anchor in a sea of chaotic, shouting Italians.

A Texture You Can Almost Taste

In a contemporary cinema landscape dominated by the "Volume" and slick, airbrushed CGI, La Chimera feels like a miracle. Rohrwacher and her cinematographer, Hélène Louvart (who also shot the incredible Never Rarely Sometimes Always), used three different film stocks—35mm, 16mm, and Super 8. The result is a visual experience that shifts and breathes. Sometimes the image is crisp; other times it’s grainy and flickering, like a half-remembered dream or a piece of home movie footage from the 1970s.

This isn't just a stylistic flex. It captures the "chimera" of the title—that elusive thing we all chase but can never quite catch. The film captures the tension between the ancient world and the modern one, where power lines cut across landscapes filled with 2,000-year-old ghosts. Isabella Rossellini (the daughter of neorealist royalty Roberto Rossellini) shows up as Flora, a fading matriarch living in a crumbling villa that looks like it's being held together by sheer willpower and cigarette smoke. Her chemistry with Arthur is lovely; they are two people living in the past, refusing to acknowledge the present.

The Comedy of the Sacred and the Profane

Despite the melancholy, La Chimera is surprisingly funny. The tombaroli are essentially a traveling circus. They break into song, they break the fourth wall, and they treat the act of desecrating ancient graves with the casualness of a Sunday picnic. There’s a particular sequence involving a hidden statue and a very public beach that is directed with such kinetic energy it feels like a heist movie—if the heist was being performed by people who hadn't slept in three days.

The film also introduces Italia (Carol Duarte), a "student" of Flora’s who isn’t a student at all, but a woman hiding a life of her own in the corners of the villa. She’s the burst of color and life that Arthur needs, representing the "now" versus his obsession with the "then." Their burgeoning relationship is clumsy and sweet, providing a necessary counterweight to the film’s more mystical inclinations.

Stuff You Didn't Notice

One of the coolest details about the production is that Alice Rohrwacher actually cast real former tombaroli as extras and consultants. The world of grave robbing in Italy isn't just a plot device; it’s a genuine, dying subculture with its own folklore and superstitions. Apparently, the crew even found some real (though minor) ancient fragments during the shoot, which feels entirely appropriate for a movie about the thin line between the living and the dead.

Also, look closely at the scene transitions. Rohrwacher occasionally speeds up the film or uses "iris" shots (where the frame closes into a small circle), techniques borrowed from the dawn of cinema. In a 2023 release, these moments feel radical. They remind us that cinema itself is a kind of archaeology, digging up old techniques to tell new stories.

La Chimera is a rare gem in the streaming era—a film that feels like it was made by human hands rather than an algorithm. It’s a drama that manages to be both earthy and ethereal, a ghost story where the ghosts are just memories we refuse to bury. If you’re tired of the "franchise fatigue" and want to see a movie that treats history as something alive and dangerous, this is your ticket. It’s a beautiful, dusty, linen-suited masterpiece that lingers in your mind long after the credits roll. Just don't forget to salt your pasta before you sit down to watch it.