Venice’s legendary film festival is serving more drama this season than a Sorrentino masterpiece, darlings. The 82nd celebration of cinema finds itself caught in an artistic tempest that would make even the most seasoned gondolier reach for a lifejacket.
Picture this: Italy’s cinematic royalty — think Marco Bellocchio, Alba Rohrwacher, and the incomparable Matteo Garrone — have just dropped the equivalent of a Valentino gown in a puddle of prosecco. Their collective stance? The festival needs to wake up and smell the espresso regarding the Gaza crisis.
The movement (dubbed V4P, or Venice4Palestine — because heaven knows the entertainment industry loves an acronym) penned an open letter that reads like a Fellini dream sequence filtered through a political lens. “Stop the clocks, turn off the stars,” they declare. Dramatic? Perhaps. But then again, when has Italian cinema ever been subtle?
Let’s talk timing, sweethearts. As Venice prepares to roll out its iconic red carpet on August 27, 2025, we’re staring down the barrel of a particularly loaded anniversary. Three years since those devastating Hamas attacks that claimed 1,200 Israeli lives and led to 251 hostages. The subsequent Israeli response has left an estimated 61,000 Palestinians dead — numbers that hit harder than a Scorsese close-up.
The Biennale’s response? Pure diplomatic choreography, darling. They’re trying to pirouette through this political minefield with all the grace of a prima ballerina with vertigo. Their statement about being “places of open discussion” feels about as substantial as a paper gondola.
But hold onto your Aperol Spritz — there’s more. The festival isn’t just paying lip service to the issue. This year’s lineup includes “The Voice of Hind Rajab,” a gut-punch of a political drama from Tunisian director Kaouther Ben Hania. When festival director Alberto Barbera introduced this selection, he looked more moved than a Method actor at the Actors Studio.
Speaking of balance (and not the kind needed to navigate those treacherous Venetian waters), last year’s program featured Israeli director Dani Rosenberg’s “Of Dogs and Men,” examining the October 7 attacks. It’s the kind of programming tightrope that would make Philippe Petit nervous.
What’s absolutely delicious about this whole situation is how it’s forcing the festival circuit to look in its Murano glass mirror. The V4P collective’s observation that “the show must go on” rings particularly hollow when art supposedly exists to reflect reality. (Though sometimes it seems the only reality being reflected is in the champagne flutes at the after-parties.)
The international support roster reads like a Who’s Who of cinema’s conscience — Ken Loach, Abel Ferrara, and more heavy hitters than a Marvel ensemble cast. Their collective voice echoes through Venice’s ancient corridors with all the subtlety of a Puccini opera.
As the water taxis prepare to ferry this year’s cinema glitterati to the Lido, one thing’s crystal clear: 2025’s Venice Film Festival won’t just be about who’s wearing what or which ingénue is about to become the next big thing. It’s shaping up to be a masterclass in how art and activism can share the same red carpet — without either one tripping over the other’s train.
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