Venice Film Festival Entry Celebrates the Height of an Italian Adult Entertainment Studio through the 1980s and 1990s
Set against the backdrop of Italy’s golden age of adult cinema, Diva Futura explores the rise and fall of one of the country’s most notorious adult film empires. Based on the memoir by Debora Attanasio, the film captures a period when porn stars could ascend to political office and the sexual revolution felt vibrant and alive. While comparisons to Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights (1997) are inevitable, Diva Futura struggles to live up to the cinematic mastery of Anderson’s work, instead presenting a more scattered, less polished narrative. Despite this, Giulia Louise Steigerwalt’s (Settembre) sophomore directorial effort succeeds in delivering some compelling moments and performances that stand out amid the mess.
Much of the film revolves around real-life figures from the era, with larger-than-life personalities such as Ilona Staller, also known as La Cicciolina (played by Lidija Kordic), and the tragic Moana Pozzi (portrayed by Denise Capezza). These characters help ground the film in historical context, even if only those familiar with Italy’s adult industry from the 1980s and 1990s will discern how much of the narrative aligns with actual events. Still, historical accuracy seems secondary to the film’s larger thematic focus on the tension between idealism and the often crushing realities of capitalism—a tension that can be somewhat heavy-handed at times.
The memoir’s full title, Don’t Tell Mom I’m a Secretary: Memoirs of a Normal Girl at the Court of the King of Hard, already hints at the whimsical yet turbulent journey of Debora, played with warmth and spunk by Barbara Ronchi. We first meet Debora as a bright-eyed personal assistant who gets caught up in the whirlwind that surrounds her charismatic and eccentric employer, Riccardo Schicchi (Pietro Castellitto). One of her initial tasks is to care for the multiple cats that roam the office—an early nod to the chaotic, almost surreal environment she’s entering. As time goes on, the workplace menagerie expands, including everything from snakes to rabbits, adding a layer of oddball charm to the story.
Riccardo himself is portrayed as a nurturing, almost naive figure who seems genuinely to believe in the transformative power of his industry. As the mastermind behind Diva Futura, his dedication to the women he works with is depicted as sincere, even if his personal life becomes increasingly complicated, particularly in his turbulent relationship with Hungarian porn star Éva Henger (Tesa Litvan). Castellitto brings an undeniable charm to the role, portraying Riccardo as a man driven by a quixotic belief that hardcore adult films can liberate the human spirit.
One of the most interesting threads in the film is the rise of Ilona Staller, La Cicciolina, who manages to translate her fame into political clout, becoming a symbol of a more liberated, open-minded Italy. Her journey, however, is not without its bumps, and the film leaves the audience with the lingering question of whether she, and others like her, were ultimately empowered or exploited by the industry they helped build.
As the narrative progresses, we see the gradual disillusionment of many characters, with their ideals and dreams crumbling under the weight of commercialization and exploitation. Unfortunately, this critique of the porn industry itself remains somewhat surface-level. Rather than offering a deeper philosophical examination of the pitfalls of the adult entertainment business, the film leans more towards a “bad people ruined a good thing” narrative, lacking the depth that could have taken the film’s social commentary to a higher level.
Technically, the film’s greatest weakness is its disjointed editing. The constant time jumps, while marked by dates and changes in hairstyles and makeup, feel arbitrary and unnecessary, making it difficult for the audience to follow the emotional arcs of the characters. While the film does provide visual cues to signal the shifts, the erratic structure hinders its overall flow. The decision to hop back and forth in time may have been an attempt to maintain a lighter tone by juxtaposing the film’s darker moments with the more carefree, optimistic days of the 1970s and ’80s, but ultimately, it disrupts the narrative cohesion.
However, what the film lacks in narrative structure, it compensates for with its meticulous attention to period details. The production and costume design are consistently excellent, transporting the viewer to an era defined by excess and flamboyance. From the kitschy hair accessories to the skimpy wardrobe choices, every detail feels authentic, adding to the film’s sense of nostalgia.
Despite its structural flaws and occasional narrative missteps, Diva Futura remains an intriguing exploration of a unique chapter in Italy’s cultural history. Its messy execution and disjointed editing are offset by strong performances—particularly from Ronchi, Castellitto, and Kordic—and the film’s vivid portrayal of an era when porn stars rubbed shoulders with politicians and artists. It may not reach the heights of Boogie Nights, but it still manages to offer a colorful, if chaotic, portrait of a bygone era. For those interested in the intersection of entertainment, politics, and social change, Diva Futura provides a flawed yet fascinating window into the past.
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