Dove osano le cicogne

The first thing you need to know about Dove osano le cicogne is that it’s a war movie where the only casualties are dignity and bank accounts. The title is a cheeky nod to the 1968 Clint Eastwood classic Where Eagles Dare (Dove osano le aquile), but instead of paratroopers invading a Nazi fortress, we have a desperate Italian couple invading a Spanish fertility clinic. It’s a 2025 comedy that plants its flag firmly in the middle of one of the most radioactive political conversations in modern Italy—surrogacy—and decides that the best way to handle the "universal crime" is with a series of well-timed double takes and a very stressed-out Angelo Pintus.

I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while my neighbor was apparently auditioning for a heavy metal band in the apartment above me, and the rhythmic thumping of his bass drum strangely complimented the ticking-clock anxiety of the film’s protagonists. There’s something inherently frantic about Fausto Brizzi’s directorial style here that feels very "now"—it’s the cinema of high-blood pressure.

The Biological Clock is a Time Bomb

The plot follows Angelo (Angelo Pintus) and Marta (Marta Zoboli), a couple who have reached that specific level of baby-fever where every conversation is a tactical briefing. After exhausting the options at home, they head to Spain—the promised land for Italian couples looking for reproductive shortcuts. The film does a solid job of capturing the specific exhaustion of the modern "fertility tourist." Everything is sterile, expensive, and deeply un-romantic.

Just as they are about to give up, they meet Luce (Beatrice Arnera), a girl who seems almost too perfect, who volunteers to carry their child. From here, Brizzi and co-writer Herbert Simone Paragnani lean into the farce. The tension doesn't come from whether or not they'll get the baby, but from the chaotic web of lies they have to spin to keep their conservative, military-minded family members from finding out. Tullio Solenghi shows up as the "Colonnello," and honestly, watching a legend of Italian comedy play a rigid patriarch is always worth the price of admission. He brings a gravitas that the movie desperately needs because, let’s be honest, the script is essentially a collection of TikTok skits held together by baby-fever glue.

Comedy in the Age of Controversy

What makes this film interesting in a 2025 context is how it navigates the "Surrogacy as a Universal Crime" legislation recently enacted in Italy. In an era where contemporary cinema is often hyper-aware of social discourse, Brizzi takes a "middle-of-the-road" approach that might frustrate those looking for a political manifesto, but it works for a broad audience. It treats the desire for a child as a primal, messy human impulse that ignores borders and laws.

Angelo Pintus is the engine here. If you’ve seen him in LOL: Chi ride è fuori, you know his energy is somewhere between "anxious golden retriever" and "man having a permanent mid-life crisis." He’s a physical comedian, and Brizzi uses that well, especially in the scenes where Angelo has to navigate the bureaucracy of Spanish clinics. Marta Zoboli provides a great foil; she’s the grounded half of the couple, though even she eventually succumbs to the absurdity of their situation. The chemistry is there, even if the movie occasionally feels like it’s trying to win a marathon while wearing flip-flops.

Behind the Storks

Behind the scenes, this film represents a bit of a strategic pivot for Italian commercial cinema. It’s produced by Tramp Limited and PiperFilm, aimed squarely at that demographic that still values a theatrical experience but expects the fast-paced, episodic humor of streaming.

A few things I dug out from the production notes:

The title pun was intentional from the start to signal that the film is about a "mission" rather than just a romantic comedy. Angelo Pintus ad-libbed a significant portion of his "nervous breakdowns," which explains why some of the reaction shots from the supporting cast look like genuine confusion. The Spanish setting wasn't just a plot point; it was a co-production necessity that allowed the film to tap into European tax credits while highlighting the real-world "fertility migration" happening across the Mediterranean. Maria Amelia Monti, playing the Doula, reportedly shadowed actual birth coaches to nail the specific brand of "calm-yet-terrifying" energy she brings to the role.

The film looks clean—typical of Brizzi’s glossy, high-production-value aesthetic. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel, and it certainly doesn’t push the boundaries of visual storytelling. It’s "comfortable" cinema. It’s the kind of movie that knows exactly what it is: a 105-minute distraction that manages to squeeze a few genuine heartstrings between the slapstick.

Dove osano le cicogne is a quintessential 2025 Italian comedy—lightweight but loud, reaching for relevance while keeping its feet planted in traditional farce. It benefits immensely from the Tullio Solenghi-led supporting cast, who often steal scenes from the frantic leads. While it doesn't quite stick the landing in its final act, drifting a bit too far into sentimentality, it remains a fun, slightly anxious ride. If you’re looking for a sharp political satire, this isn’t it; but if you want to see Angelo Pintus sweat through a shirt while trying to lie to a Colonel about a secret pregnancy, you’re in the right place.