My Brilliant Friend Recap: Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too

As a woman who has navigated her way through the complexities of love and relationships for decades, I can deeply resonate with Lenù’s struggles in this episode. The scene where Franco, in his darkest hour, still considers the girls, struck me as incredibly poignant and heart-wrenching. It’s a stark reminder of the selflessness that some people possess, even in their most vulnerable moments.

One aspect that stands out in Ferrante’s writing within the Neapolitan Quartet is how deeply Lenù’s viewpoint permeates the story, often leaving readers feeling as if they’ve become a part of her consciousness. This could be why readers find themselves understanding and even empathizing with Lenù’s fixation on Nino when reading the books, but watching it unfold on screen can feel unbearably distressing. After the latest episode, I vented to a friend who shares my love for the novels but hasn’t started the new season yet, exclaiming, “I hate Nino!” To which she calmly responded, “I like Nino.” This response, I believe, is quite surprising and perhaps even irrational.

Experiencing the replay of their affair on screen adds an extra layer to Lenù’s struggles, as we are privy to more than just her perspective. In the books, it’s clear that Lenù has become increasingly absorbed within herself, a classic symptom of obsession. However, observing Dede and Elsa in the periphery of Lenù’s conversations or noticing their careful observation of their distracted mother offers a fresh viewpoint on her turmoil. This additional insight is both intriguing and infuriating, leaving us yearning to intervene and shake some sense into her. A friend would do this, and interestingly enough, Lila is attempting something similar when she’s not being pushed off the phone by Lenù.

In a different wording:

Nino persistently refuses to accept Lenù’s rejection. Over the following weeks, he constantly phones Lenù, pleading with her to return, expressing his inability to live without her and other familiar sentiments. Lila also contacts Lenù at Adele’s home to check on her friend, but Lenù is running out of patience. She angrily argues with Nino over the phone, even shocking Tania, Adele’s housekeeper. When Adele enters the room to reprimand Lenù for using vulgar language –– her pretense of understanding working-class struggles vanishing, Adele reveals her elitist nature, further highlighted by her condescending tone towards Tania. In response, Lenù openly criticizes Adele. At least she admitted her error in front of everyone, including her daughters, something Adele has never had the courage to do for herself. Surprised by this accusation, Adele claims that not only is Lenù a bad person, but she will never understand true sacrifice; it’s unfortunate that the children will grow up with someone so self-centered. However, Lenù no longer cares about Adele’s opinion of her, which is ultimately beneficial. She will pack her and her daughters’ belongings herself, without Tania’s assistance, who appears relieved to be excluded from this predicament.

Lenù appears to have lost her capacity for sensible decision-making following her liberation from Adele’s scrutiny. At the train station with Dede and Elsa, she unexpectedly alters her plans. Initially, she intended to bring her daughters to Nino and Eleonora’s home in Naples, expecting him to assume responsibility for his role in their turmoil. However, she decides to board a train to Milan instead. It can be beneficial to feel a little ashamed or embarrassed about the lengths one might go for a man, like traveling with children to his house without contemplating the potential harm. Lenù is displeased with Nino and herself, and she vents her feelings on Dede and Elsa, being excessively forceful in their separation. Yet, she recognizes her behavior as unacceptable; she adores Nino too deeply to even be in the same city as him without losing self-control.

Instead of taking them to Mariarosa’s, which is accommodating an enormous crowd including Franco, Lenù and her nieces find themselves there. Mariarosa, who is kind but firm with Lenù, doesn’t tolerate disrespectful remarks about her mother. She gently reminds Lenù of the help Adele gave her before their falling out. Upon seeing all their belongings, Lenù breaks down in tears. Unwisely, she calls Nino, only to be let down once more. He feigns ignorance as to why Lenù is pulling away. When she mentions his lack of support during her turbulent times compared to his loyalty to his wife, he dismisses it as an unimportant issue. The phone constantly rings in the following days due to multiple calls.

In a careful watch, Mariarosa, Franco, and the girls keep an eye on Lenù each time she takes a call. Often engrossed in her own issues, Lenù may not realize that her daughters are more than just digital representations in her complicated life, but Dede is attentively observing everything silently. One evening, as Lenù discusses motherhood and the significance of a mother’s body with a group of feminists at Mariarosa’s, Dede listens intently. The conversation is interrupted by the doorbell, and Dede goes to answer it. Two officers come in response to the neighbors’ complaints about the noise. With a sneer and an arrogant, sarcastic tone, Mariarosa mockingly welcomes the cops: She invites them to join the discussion, asking if they would care to discuss their mothers’ bodies before they leave. Before departing, Dede playfully reveals her aunt’s full name and occupation to one of the officers.

As a movie critic, I can’t help but empathize with the protagonist as she grapples with the adults who seemingly disregard her well-being without a second thought. Dede, in my opinion, doesn’t appear innocent in the slightest. Her understanding of societal injustice is evident when she engages in a conversation with Franco about the connection between laborers and the affluence of the upper class. Upon returning home after a long day’s work, Lenù encounters Dede’s accusation: “I eat, but it seems you’re the one gaining weight.” Despite their apparent obliviousness, Franco and Lenù find humor in this situation; Franco even wistfully wishes they were his own daughters with Lenù. However, just when they begin to ponder what might have been but never materialized, Pietro returns home unexpectedly with Mariarosa, stirring feelings of nostalgia among the siblings.

In simpler terms, the scene shows Pietro becoming upset when he finds out his daughters are not attending school but studying at home, following an incident with the police. He accuses Lenù and Mariarosa of being reckless for removing the girls from a structured learning environment and placing them in a house without rules or structure. Both women argue that this unconventional education will be beneficial, claiming it’s temporary, although no one knows when things will return to normal. Franco suggests that Dede and Elsa may one day look back on this time fondly as a happy period spent with adults. It takes a man speaking before Pietro begins to calm down, but he remains firm in his stance. When Franco mentions returning the girls to a more disciplined lifestyle, Pietro wonders if they’ll ever be able to return to a normal routine, given that even adults find it challenging.

Indeed, Pietro’s statement rings true, and Lenù acknowledges it as well. Recognizing the need for education, she enrolls the girls in school; however, Elsa appears to struggle with this new environment. Once again, Lenù is overwhelmed by Nino’s central role in her life, prioritizing him over her daughters and herself. From a distance, it seems as though Nino reappears outside her apartment after three months of silence. He regurgitates his previous lines, such as “I can’t leave Eleonora, but I can’t live without you,” before ultimately revealing the reason for his unwillingness to depart from his wife: She is seven months pregnant, a conception that likely occurred during their honeymoon phase. Lenù appears on the verge of fainting or disintegrating with shock. Overwhelmed, she screams, cries, and begs Franco to evict Nino from their home. Franco comforts her and helps calm her down, but then defends Nino by stating that he has traveled all this way just to tell Lenù the truth, which should count for something. “What if this is the only way he can love you?” he asks. In response, Lenù tells Franco to go to hell. She also slams Nino’s car door on his face, as she rightly should!

Over time, a regular pattern settles among the trio consisting of Lenù, Dede, and Elsa. Initially, there are minor mishaps; for instance, Lenù forgets that her daughters have their pajamas on when she tells them to change after dinner, which amuses them greatly. It’s heartening to see Lenù sharing laughter with her daughters instead of reprimanding or concealing her feelings from them, creating a genuine family atmosphere. Following the meal, Franco enters the room, appearing and sounding somber. They discuss Lenù’s work; she’s struggling with another book but Franco suggests that if she truly loves Nino more than herself, she must accept him as he is, including his wife and children. He explains, “In love, it’s only over when you can be yourself again, without fear or disgust,” a state Lenù has yet to achieve since Nino arrived at her home in Florence. However, Franco’s words and sentiment transcend Lenù and her issues; it’s evident that he is reflecting on his own experiences.

In our household, routine has settled back in – the usual squabbles between sisters upon their return from school, cartoons on TV that they enjoy, and mom picking them up, followed by lunch together. However, a strange note from Elsa, found stuck to Franco’s room door, asking Lenù not to let the girls inside, sets a somber tone. Upon checking on him, I find Franco in a pool of blood, his wrists slit. This note, left behind, carries an almost unbearable weight, echoing the tragic act of Sylvia Plath leaving cookies for her children before her final moments. Despite his own turmoil, Franco still thought about the girls in his last hours. He stood tall among us, showing that one can live not only for oneself but also for others – a quality neither Lenù nor Nino have ever mastered.

In my own words as a supporter, I’d say:

In Più

I’d like to reiterate something I mentioned last week: Alba Rohrwacher’s performance in this role is taking it to new heights with a nuance that truly stands out. Now, Margherita Mazzucco was exceptional, but Rohrwacher’s portrayal exudes a certain self-assuredness that makes the older Lenù feel more vibrant and real.

In this episode, I wasn’t quite certain about my feelings towards the smooth transitions using dissolves between Nino’s recurring calls to Lenù in the central part. Previously, the show’s direction has creatively depicted the progression of time, such as using real news footage or a more abrupt cut from a nightmare scene to the apartment, and these dissolves seemed more like an add-on. Instead, I thought it could have been more impactful with a rapid succession of cuts showing the phone slamming down, for instance. However, I appreciated some of the framing this week; specifically, the way a wall was used to separate Nino from Lenù and Franco as he tried to soothe her down.

Dede was incredibly charming, embodying Pippi Longstocking at what appears to be Carnival. This delightful blend left my 7-year-old self reminiscing with joy!

2024-09-17 06:55

My Brilliant Friend Recap: Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too

In Più

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