This film is a very personal account of moments lived by the director with her father Luigi Comencini, one of Italy’s masters. A personal account, yet told with the proper distance, in that cinema is ever-present between father and daughter: as a passion, a life choice, and a way of being in the world. Cinema as a web that underlies the story of their exchanges and creates a space for imagination. “With cinema,” the father says, “you can escape. With your own mind”. Images are sparked by memories and like memories amplify a few notable markers while erasing others. Spare images, where there is hardly anything other than the two of them, and the marker that is present always has something monstrous about it: large things are exceptionally large; distant things are incredibly far; sunbeams are ablaze; nearby things are much too close. As for the movie sets, however, everything is in excess: confusion, urgency, people, noise—and everything here is also amplified. In these sets is the thrill of communal life. The ones featured in the film are those of Pinocchio, built in the middle of nowhere in the barren countryside.
Directed by
Francesca Comencini
Cast
Fabrizio Gifuni, Romana Maggiora Vergano, Anna Mangiocavallo, Luca Donini, Daniele Monterosi, Lallo Circosta, Luca Massaro, Giuseppe Lo Piccolo, Luigi Bindi, Laura Borrelli, Paolo Mannozzi, Gianfranco Gallo, Massimiliano Di Vincenzo, Massimo Cimaglia, Aphrodite De Lorraine, Marco Belocchi, Leonardo Giuliani
Reactions
Bande à part by Michel Cieutat The director of Pianoforte (1984) reflects with caution and tenderness on her often disconcerting relationship with her father, Luigi Comencini, a filmmaker admired by all but a somewhat uncommunicative father figure. From childhood to maturity, she offers us a beautiful and sincere transcription of the often highly contrasting memories she holds of her beloved father.
Elle by Françoise Delbecq A poetic film of infinite tenderness.
Femme Actuelle by the Editorial Team These precious moments, of moving beauty, make you want to revisit her father’s work. Charming.
L’Humanité by Sophie Joubert … the blurring between reality and fiction gives this raw and moving film its charm, impeccably performed by Fabrizio Gifuni and Romana Maggiora Vergano.
La Croix by Céline Rouden The daughter of Italian filmmaker Luigi Comencini explores the labyrinth of her memory to deliver a deeply moving account of the ups and downs of her relationship with her father and their reconciliation through a shared passion for cinema.
La Tribune Dimanche by Aurélien Cabrol It’s impossible not to be moved by this radiant father figure and by this exercise in admiration from a daughter to her father, from one filmmaker to another.
Le Dauphiné Libéré by Nathalie Chifflet Luigi Comencini’s daughter reconstructs her childhood as an enchanted journey through her father’s cinema—always attentive and kind—but from the start, there is an underlying sense of instability and doubt in the overwhelming shadow of the great Italian director.
Le Figaro by Eric Neuhoff The Time it Takes has the freshness and urgency of a debut film.
Le Journal du Dimanche by Baptiste Thion A well-crafted poetic tale, as inspired in its form as it is moving in its essence—a declaration of love both to the father to whom she owes so much and to the art they share.
Le Point by the Editorial Team A beautiful film that not only recounts a chapter of cinema history but also delicately explores the father-daughter bond.
Les Echos by Olivier De Bruyn Director Francesca Comencini evokes her deep connection with her father, Luigi, a towering figure of Italian cinema. A marvel.
Les Fiches du Cinéma by Gilles Tourman Through the story of the relationship between a filmmaker father and his daughter—first a child, then a teenager, and finally an adult—Francesca Comencini delivers a moving tribute to her father, the director he was, and, even more, to cinema itself. A deeply stirring work.
Libération by Camille Nevers With an attentive and respectful distance, a restrained and minimalist direction, the filmmaker revisits this relationship with a quiet tenderness—the evolving, conflicted bond between father and daughter, alone in their Roman apartment, separated by a shadowy hallway where the film’s deepest emotions will ultimately unfold.
Marianne by Olivier De Bruyn A poignant portrait of a daughter and her father.
Nice-Matin by C. Cop Both realistic and dreamlike, this dual portrait strikes straight to the heart.
Positif by Ariane Allard What begins as an intimate journey—allowing Francesca Comencini to gracefully free herself from her family’s legacy and find her own identity—ultimately becomes a universal and profoundly moving experience. There’s no doubt that the heightened, magnified reality of cinema plays a role in this.
Sud Ouest by Julien Rousset This generous and emotional fable weaves a playful and passionate tribute to cinema, particularly Italian cinema.
Transfuge by Séverine Danflous The strength of The Time it Takes lies in its affirmation of storytelling’s power over reality.
Télérama by Jacques Morice While Francesca Comencini has managed to set herself apart from her father by choosing autobiography—a genre he disdained—she joins him in one crucial way: just like L’Incompreso, her film brings us to tears.
