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LOCARNO 2025 Concorso

Recensione: Mektoub, My Love: Canto Due

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- Il terzo capitolo della saga di Abdellatif Kechiche continua la sua esplorazione sulla giovinezza e il desiderio, dando più spazio all’autonomia delle donne piuttosto che alla loro oggettivazione

Recensione: Mektoub, My Love: Canto Due
Shaïn Boumedine e Jessica Pennington in Mektoub, My Love: Canto Due

Questo articolo è disponibile in inglese.

The latest instalment in Abdellatif Kechiche’s Mektoub, My Love saga, Canto Due, has premiered in Locarno’s main competition. The Franco-Tunisian filmmaker began the series in 2017 with Mektoub, My Love: Canto Uno [+leggi anche:
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at the Venice Film Festival, followed by Mektoub, My Love: Intermezzo [+leggi anche:
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, which bowed at Cannes in 2019, but remains unreleased and has attracted controversy. Canto Due continues in the sweltering summer of 1994 in Sète, again following young protagonist Amin (Shaïn Boumedine) and his circle of family and friends.

Mektoub, My Love: Canto Due opens with an extended scene in which a US couple arrives at the restaurant run by the mother of Amin’s cousin Tony (Salim Kechiouche). They turn up after closing time, but Jessica (Jessica Pennington) insists on being served couscous, citing her status as a regular customer. Her request, initially appearing as a display of entitlement, is revealed to be that of a television actress visiting from Los Angeles with her older husband and producer, Jack Patterson (Andre Jacobs). While Jack shows a more cordial attitude towards the restaurant owner, the manager is still obliged to personally summon staff from a nearby club to prepare food for the actress. Over the course of the scene, much of Tony’s family gradually gathers around Jessica and Jack’s table. The moment edges towards caricature in its portrayal of “Hollywood” privilege, culminating in the family negotiating for Jack to read Amin’s latest script, Essential Principles of Universal Existence.

Amin has left medical school in Paris to pursue his interest in photography and screenwriting. He stands at the centre of the two storylines that Canto Due interweaves. One involves the US couple, whose stay in a luxury villa becomes the setting for both the launch of Amin’s prospective Hollywood career and its abrupt downfall. The other focuses on Ophélie (Ophélie Bau), who tends lambs on a small family farm. Amin assists with her travel preparations to Paris for an abortion after she becomes pregnant by his cousin Tony, despite being in the midst of preparing for her wedding to Clément, a soldier stationed abroad.

Amin moves between the two narrative strands, navigating the working-class life of his family and a close encounter with the world of the wealthy. Each strand is anchored by a female character: the rural storyline centres on Ophélie, whose strong yet platonic connection with Amin persists despite her involvement with both Tony and Clément; the other is dominated by Jessica, who chooses to resist what is expected of her. Canto Due creates space for female agency, with both characters challenging expectations within a male-dominated environment, albeit on their own terms, which in Jessica’s case can appear somewhat whimsical.

Canto Due continues in the style of Canto Uno, with most scenes being composed of several extended-dialogue sequences, until the final act adopts a more action-driven pace and the summer atmosphere gives way to a more dramatic register. Although many conversations play out as if in real time, Canto Due is comparatively concise at 134 minutes. However, it feels like yet another Intermezzo, failing to push the plot much further in the saga.

Canto Due contains far less of the male gaze and objectification seen in its predecessors. The film includes a single sex scene, shot with greater restraint than in the controversially received Intermezzo. In this regard, it is comparatively subdued in its provocative imagery, further steering the saga into comic territory with Jessica’s attention-seeking behaviour, for example.

As with the previous chapters, Canto Due is less concerned with narrative progression than with observing character dynamics over time. Kechiche maintains his focus on protracted social interactions, often blurring the line between incidental detail and dramatic purpose. The film’s place in the larger cycle feels transitional, suggesting that not even Canto Tre and Canto Quattro will be enough to wrap up the summer in Sète.

(Tradotto dall'inglese)

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