The questions raised by an absent parent can linger for decades. In Deep Blue, which had its world premiere in Busan’s World Cinema strand, Italian helmer Ernesto Maria Censori approaches this familiar territory with a pic that is more compelling in its emotional development than in its formal ambitions. Co-written with Lorenzo Marinelli, the drama follows a fairly conventional path, but its attention to the people travelling along it makes for a quietly engaging experience.

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At 11, Nicola is forced by his father, Lucio (Filippo Timi), to participate in a violent act, before being sent away to Mexico. Twenty years later, believing Lucio is dead, Nicola (now portrayed by Andrea Arcangeli) has built something resembling a stable life. He works as a waiter in an Italian restaurant run by his uncle Nando (Peppe Servillo), has a partner, is perhaps developing loose ambitions of fatherhood and seems ready to look towards the future, rather than the past. That precarious balance collapses when Nando announces that he is leaving for good and, visibly struggling with the confession, reveals that Lucio is still alive. Nicola sets off for Italy, determined to confront the man who abandoned him.

The journey eventually brings him into a world marked by old criminal loyalties and unresolved guilt. Yet the film’s real interest lies less in the secrets surrounding Lucio than in Nicola’s response to them. Censori and Marinelli underline that discovering the truth does not automatically resolve years of resentment, and the encounters between father and son are shaped by contradictory impulses: anger, curiosity, mistrust and a persistent desire for some kind of recognition.

The two leads give this relatively straightforward material much of its weight. Timi is particularly effective as Lucio, a man whose violent past is never far from the surface. His performance is surprisingly measured, allowing moments of explosive aggression to coexist with a more guarded, almost weary composure. Arcangeli provides a convincing counterpoint, conveying Nicola’s unease without reducing him to a perpetually wounded victim. Together, they establish a credible emotional tension, even when the screenplay moves towards developments that are not especially difficult to anticipate.

Censori’s direction is less distinctive. The staging is generally clear and functional, but rarely reveals an especially individual visual sensibility. Andrea Benjamin Manenti’s cinematography also favours a persistently gloomy palette, which can make some sequences feel excessively murky. Admittedly, that darkness suits a story in which violence and criminality cast long shadows over the present, even if the effect occasionally feels overemphasised.

That said, Deep Blue is not a film defined by narrative surprises or striking stylistic choices. Its true achievement is to make the steps towards its destination matter, grounding familiar conflicts in recognisable bonds. For a first feature, that is a respectable foundation on which Censori can build.

Deep Blue was produced by Alcor, Italian International Film – Gruppo Lucisano and Rai Cinema. Rome-based firm True Colours handles its world sales.