Francis of Assisi, the thirteenth century saint, would seem an unlikely choice for Michele Soavi, the Italian director known for the stylish horror films The Church (1989), The Sect (1991) and Cemetery Man (1994). But while Soavi may be a disciple of Dario Argento, he seems determined not to become trapped within a single genre the way his master has. The three-and-a-half hour television film St. Francis / Francesco (2002) is actually a sincere and ambitious historical film that attempts to recreate the texture of life in the Middle Ages.

From the opening scenes depicting St. Francis's childhood, Soavi sets up a clear contrast between St. Francis's notion of spirituality based on reverence for nature and the less fortunate, and that of faith coerced through fear. At the same time, he provides a straightforward biographical account of Francesco d'Assisi (1181-1226) as a historical figure. Son of Pietro Bernadone, a wealthy cloth merchant, Francesco caroused with friends during his youth and heedlessly fought in battle, surviving but taken as a prisoner of war. Moved by his experiences, he renounced his former life of luxury, dressing in rags, tending the sick and soon attracting a band of followers. In 1209, he visited the Pope and received official blessing to found a new order of friars who rejected all earthly possessions.

Soavi and his casting director have a good eye for distinctive faces, from the lead actors down to the extras. Raoul Bova is at once lively, handsome and fittingly charismatic in the role of Francesco. In this respect the film works much better than Franco Zeffirelli's cloying Brother Son, Sister Moon (1972), which is at least as much an ode to Graham Faulkner's beauty as it is a film-hagiography.

Gianni Mammolotti's muted color cinematography shows the level of craftsmanship possible in contemporary Italian cinema, even in made-for-television films. If I have a criticism in this regard, it's that the film's baroque visual texture, with its frequent use of wide angle and telephoto lens, handheld camerawork and slow motion, is more appropriate to the giallo, where style is the main point. The most serious shortcoming is that Soavi displays an annoying tendency to rely on slow motion to emphasize characters' gestures. A better director would have used the internal rhythm of the scene, the placement of actors relative to the camera, or editing to get the same ideas across. Carlo Siliotto's musical score doesn't help matters with its clichéd and flatfooted attempt to inject a sense of epic scope and wonder, not unlike James Horner's overpraised score for The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Mainly because of the music and the overwrought camerawork, the film ends up looking like a prosaic TV miniseries when it could have accomplished much more. In contrast, Roberto Rossellini demonstrated the virtue of restraint in The Flowers of St. Francis (1950); its simplicity of means far better suits the subject matter.

NoShame's transfer looks excellent, with very little evidence of compression despite the film's 201-minute running time. The aspect ratio is 1.661:1, non-anamorphic. Extras include an booklet with a generous selection of essays and a 10-minute "behind the scenes" documentary that's ninety percent fluff. Soavi's St. Francis is no masterpiece, but it's certainly worth a look. Raoul Bova in particular deserves mention for creating a credible portrait of a complex saint.

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by James Steffen