Directed by acclaimed Italian filmmaker Daniele Luchetti, and garnering high praise at both the Cannes and Toronto film festivals, My Brother Is An Only Child explores Italian politics of the 1960s and 70s through the lives of two brothers in a small town outside of Rome.

It is a tumultuous time in Italian politics: the Communist party and a resurgent Fascist party have the country embroiled in a power struggle. The elder brother, Manrico, is passionately involved in the Communist party. An outspoken and bossy womanizer, he is the handsome golden son. His family, while not very politically involved, often unthinkingly shares the charming Manrico’s political opinions.

The younger brother, Accio, struggles to soundly establish his own identity, having been labeled early on as a troublemaker. Although his name “Accio” also means “bully”—and he does beat up neighborhood kids he disagrees with—his particular motives are not those we normally ascribe to a genuine, out-for-blood “bully.” Instead, he is as passionate as his brother but sadly lacks the charm to overcome the classification. Even during the brief period he spent in seminary, his earnest desire to be a good priest by truly confessing his sin is interpreted as over-exuberance and improper.

Eventually, Accio is befriended by Mario, an older man—and rampant fascist. Since Accio gets no support from his family, he is easily influenced by Mario’s view of the world, joining the Fascist Party as a young teen.

This does not go over well at home. Unsurprisingly, Manrico is especially earnest to change his brother’s mind, using tactics that generations of brothers the world over have honed to perfection—sparring both physically and verbally. Their fights spill over into the community, however, when demonstrators from both parties clash in the streets; ultimately, the brothers must decide which bond is stronger: family or political philosophy.

To further complicate their relationship, Accio incrementally falls in love with Manrico’s girlfriend, Francesca. Also a communist, Francesca loves to debate with Accio while waiting for Manrico to take her out.

As the brothers mature, their philosophies and ideas follow suit, evolving and developing, becoming more complex as well as more intertwined—somewhat analogous of the increasingly blurred politics of Italy itself. The film’s publicity materials note of the era that

The youth of those years resembled each other, both those belonging to the left and right wings. Ideas are not all the same, but human beings are. Everywhere, there was a widespread sense of rebellion and of protest—a wish to live intensely and share passions within a strong spirit of community.

The film evokes this in the brothers—they, too, are remarkably similar in their intensity, passion, and sense of urgency to save their country and their people. But it is not only a film about Italian politics personified; it is also a film about the delicate and complex relationships between people, regardless of politics.

Because of the talented direction of Daniele Luchetti and her skilled cast and crew, a full understanding of the political backdrop is not a prerequisite for understanding and enjoying this film. Anyone can appreciate the film as a worthy exploration of the common human desires to improve a corner of the world, whether that means leading a political movement or making sacrifices for one’s family.

My Brother is an Only Child is not rated; however there are mild language and sexual situations that I think would earn a PG-13. The film is subtitled.

Courtesy of a local publicist, Jennie attended a press screening of My Brother is an Only Child.