Well be recapping each episode of My Brilliant Friend. This recap is written by someone who has read (and loved) the original books, but there will be no spoilers for future plot points. New episodes are airing Sunday and Monday nights, through December 10.[hhmc]
It feels as if finally My Brilliant Friend has found its groove. “The Shoes” is an episode with propulsion, accelerating through the casts teenage years and surveying destruction as it goes. Last week in “La Smarginatura,” I discussed Lila (Gaia Girace)s expansive, terrifying power; in this hour, we see why shes afraid of it. Lilas magnetism—her willpower, despite every sensible reason she has to succumb to despair—draws people towards her, men as diverse as fascist rich kid Marcello Solara (Elvis Esposito) and communist, blue-collar Pasquale Peluso (Eduardo Scarpetta). Kudos to both Esposito and Scarpetta, who channel their starstruck admiration for Lila like drowning men being drawn into a whirlpool. The problem for Lila is that shes at the center as all these men are being whipped around around her.
What I appreciated most about this episode is how much we get to see Lila and Lenù (Margherita Mazzucco) simply talk to each other, as everything around them seems to rattle out of its frame. The episode has two moments where Lila is looking directly at Lenù, eyes narrowed, as Elena disappoints her—or withdraws, or describes the promise that her future holds. But Lilas expression is blank, restrained, and even, in its way, generous—allowing Elena the future that Lila will not get, and shepherding her along the way with hints about Dido.
To my mind, Girace and Mazzucco dont have the chemistry that their younger counterparts did. But if their conversations with each other do not reflect easy rapport, perhaps that is the condition of these uncomfortable teenage years, where a friend who is not a demanding man or a disapproving woman is the best companion to hope for. Because throughout the episode, its really only Elena who bothers to see Lila as the human she is, even though Elena is guilty of taking advantage of Lila, too, by copying her words on Dido for her Greek essay. At least Elena bothers enough to listen to the quality of her ideas—to the expression of her mind; at least Elena feels enough guilt and recognition to confess this to Lila. Meanwhile, the town around Lila seems intent on devouring her with their interest—savoring the taste of her contributions before ripping her to shreds.
This all is encapsulated by those ridiculous, ornate shoes, a potent symbol that becomes laden with more and more meaning as the story moves forward. At first they were a symbol of how much raw potential Lila has—and how that energy flows into any container it can, whether that is schoolwork or reading or her fathers shoe business. But after laboring over them for months and years in secret, the shoes still arent good enough for her father Fernando (Antonio Buonanno)s approval; it might have something to do with the fact that although her brother Rino (Gennaro de Stefano) is eager to help, he isnt as brilliant and considered as his younger sister.
Rino goes behind Lilas back to present the shoes to Fernando on Epiphany, the day that the sprite Befana comes to leave presents for all the good boys and girls. (Rino, arrogant in his own success, further punishes Lilas discerning sensibilities by gifting her a stocking full of coal.) Of course Lila was right; Fernando isnt pleased with the shoes, though its hard to say exactly why. It may be that they are not excellent in the way he is used to, or excellent in a way he doesnt approve of. It may be, simply, that they are not very good shoes at all, despite the imagination that went into them.
But in making something out of the raw energy of her own brain—and the resources available to her—Lila inadvertently exposed herself. Possession of the shoes, and the judgment of them, becomes an oblique way to possess and judge her. Which is why Marcello Solara uses them as an inroad towards softening her family up for his second, more formal marriage proposal, after Lila refused both he and Pasquale in the middle of the street (in separate conversations). Rino, desperate to get Marcello to appreciate the shoes, is devastated when he discovers Marcello is more interested in his sister than in innovative footwear. But Fernando and Nunzia (Valentina Acca) welcome the opportunity for their daughter to marry up into a rich family. Still she refuses.
Why does Lila hate Marcello Solara? Sure, hes a bit greasy, but beyond that, I dont have a perfect answer. Even Elena doesnt know entirely; after he and Michele (Alessio Gallo) sweep into the piazza in the city with their Fiat and their iron bars to whoop the rich kids, almost everyone is inclined to feel grateful. But Pasquale doesnt trust them, and neither does Lila, with a cornered, breathtaking ferocity. She doesnt love him, and doesnt want to marry him, true—and maybe she senses that he wants to possess her more than love her. His parents are fascists who made money on the black market; they continue to profit off of the need of others in the town.
But only Lila seems to hold the grudge. Is it merely integrity that fixes her mind? Has she somehow x-rayed Marcellos soul and found him wanting? Or is it that she cannot forgive him for the violence hes unleashed, already? Its a sad story. Weve seen the Solara brothers, ever since they were children, goaded to use physical violence on others, often with the express permission and on behalf of their parents. Marcello is the product of his surroundings, as is Lila. What can she see that we cant?
I appreciate how many questions this episode left open to the viewers, even as it swept up both the audience and both girls into the wider world outside the neighborhood. The excursion into Milans center is beautifully done, as is Elenas goodbye to her mother on the pier. The season seems to finally be snapping into place, although I am, curmudgeonly, a little peeved it took so long.
Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Full ScreenPhotos:Imaginary Wish List: Zora Neale HurstonSonia SaraiyaSonia Saraiya is Vanity Fair's television critic. Previously she was at Variety, Salon, and The A.V. Club. She lives in New York.
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