The Tearsmith

If you ever wondered what would happen if a Victorian ghost story had a head-on collision with a 2010s perfume commercial, The Tearsmith (2024) is your answer. It is a film that exists in a permanent state of slow-motion yearning, bathed in a blue-grey tint so thick you feel like you’re watching it through a rainy windowpane in a haunted mansion. I watched this while trying to fold a mountain of laundry, and I found myself dropping the same pair of socks three times because I was paralyzed by the sheer, unadulterated melodrama of it all. It’s the kind of movie that demands your full attention, not because it’s complex, but because it is trying so hard to be the most intense thing you've ever seen.

The Gothic Glow of the Algorithm

Coming to us via Netflix, The Tearsmith is a fascinating artifact of our current streaming era. It’s an Italian production based on the mega-bestseller by Erin Doom (a pen name that tells you exactly what kind of vibes we’re dealing with), and it clearly aims for that global YA "dark academia" audience that spent the last decade devouring Twilight and the After series. Director Alessandro Genovesi, who is usually known for lighthearted Italian comedies like 10 Days Without Mamma, pivots here into something entirely different. He trades jokes for "The Grave"—a grim, Dickensian orphanage where our protagonists, Nica and Rigel, grow up under the terrifying thumb of Margaret (Sabrina Paravicini).

The film looks expensive, but in that specific, polished way where everything feels slightly too clean to be real. Even the "gritty" orphanage looks like it was staged for a high-end fashion shoot. This is peak contemporary platform cinema: it’s designed to be screenshotted, shared on TikTok, and turned into moody edits. It doesn’t just tell a story; it curates an aesthetic. The Tearsmith is basically 'Twilight' if Edward and Bella shared a bunk bed and a legal guardian.

A Tale of Two Orp-Siblings

At the center of the storm are Caterina Ferioli as Nica and Simone Baldasseroni as Rigel. Nica is the "butterfly" girl—pure, empathetic, and desperate for the love of a real family. Rigel, on the other hand, is the "Tearsmith" of the title’s legend—a boy who is all sharp edges, shadows, and brooding piano solos. When they are both adopted by the kindly Milligans (Roberta Rovelli and Orlando Cinque), the movie shifts from gothic horror-lite into a high-stakes "will-they-won't-they" that is complicated by the fact that they are, for all intents and purposes, now brother and sister.

Simone Baldasseroni, who is actually a famous Italian rapper known as Biondo, plays Rigel with a level of intensity that suggests he hasn’t blinked since 2022. He does a lot of heavy lifting with his jawline. Caterina Ferioli brings a genuine sweetness to Nica, which helps ground some of the more absurd dialogue. Their chemistry is the engine of the film, and while it’s undeniably "cringe" at times, there’s an earnestness to their performances that I found strangely endearing. They aren't just acting; they are committing to the bit. When Rigel tells Nica she’s "his catastrophe," you either roll your eyes or you lean in. I found myself doing a little of both.

The Legend of the Wattpad Script

The screenplay, by Alessandro Genovesi and Eleonora Fiorini, struggles with the transition from page to screen. In a novel, you can spend fifty pages describing the metaphorical weight of a single tear; in a 106-minute movie, those metaphors start to feel like they’re hitting you over the head with a velvet-covered brick. The dialogue is frequently breathy and portentous. No one in this movie says, "Pass the salt." They say, "The grains of salt are like the white dust of my forgotten childhood, stinging the wounds I cannot heal."

One of the more interesting "contemporary" hurdles the film faces is the villain, Lionel, played by Alessandro Bedetti. He’s the quintessential "rich bully" who exists purely to make our brooding hero look better by comparison. In the era of more nuanced representation and complex antagonists, Lionel feels like a throwback to 90s teen dramas. Yet, his presence adds a necessary layer of external conflict to a story that is otherwise mostly about two people staring at each other in hallways.

There’s some fun trivia buried in the production, too. Despite the film’s gloomy American-suburban-gothic feel, it was shot primarily in Italy, specifically around Ravenna and Rome. The production team worked overtime to erase the Mediterranean sun, replacing it with a perpetual overcast sky that feels very Pacific Northwest. Also, for those wondering about the budget, $7 million goes a long way in Italy when you’re not paying for A-list Hollywood salaries, which is why the cinematography by Luca Esposito looks as lush as a mid-budget studio film from twenty years ago.

Ultimately, The Tearsmith is a polarizing experience. If you are a fan of the "hurt/comfort" trope and you miss the days when YA movies were unashamedly dramatic and moody, you’ll find plenty to like here. It’s a film that leans into its own absurdity with such conviction that it almost becomes a cult classic in the making. However, if you prefer your dramas with a side of logic and characters who talk like human beings, this might be a tough sit.

I don't think this is a "good" movie in the traditional sense, but it is a highly watchable one. It represents a specific moment in cinema where the algorithm knows exactly what a certain demographic wants—gorgeous actors, a haunting score by Andrea Farri, and a "forbidden" romance—and delivers it with a bow on top. It’s a beautifully wrapped gift that’s a little bit empty inside, but it sure looks nice on the shelf. Just don't be surprised if you find yourself laughing during the scenes that are meant to be the most tragic.