When I picture Italy, I see in my mind settings like you will see in Made in Italy (2020), for the most part.  What is lacking in the movie that I also imagine is the presence of churches.  The peninsula is where the Seat of the Catholic Church can be found, so why there would not be any in this motion picture is somewhat puzzling.  It could also be strange to see Liam Neeson in a romantic comedy.  As is true of so much in life, such things are a matter of perspective.  Directors can frame a scene in any way they want, leaving out an element that would be a feature of any Tuscan town like a church.  The same can be said about the way an actor, known more for action flicks, can be used in a different kind of production.  In sum, this is not a perfect film, but there is something in it for most audiences depending on how you view it.

With a title like Made in Italy, you might not expect the first scene to be a view of a London art gallery.  It is managed by Jack Foster (Micheál Richardson), and he is hosting an opening that is interrupted by Ruth (Yolanda Kettle).  Not only is she his wife, but her family owns the building in which the gallery is located.  This would not be a problem if not for the fact that she is in the process of divorcing him and her family intends to sell the premises.  Since this is Jack’s entire livelihood, he makes a bold proposal to purchase the gallery.  Ruth is incredulous that this can happen, but he has what appears to be a mad plan: to sell the house he co-owns with his father, artist Robert Foster (Liam Neeson), in Tuscany.  At this point, the only way we have of nothing how foolhardy is such an expectation is by Ruth’s response.  Nonetheless, Jack forges ahead, contacting his father that they must travel to Italy and list their villa.  The relationship between father and son is strained, and their trip does not get off to a good start when Jack arrives to find Robert ushering a woman out the door whose name he forgets.  Unsurprisingly, Robert is unpacked.  He is also reticent to sell the home he had inherited from Jack’s mother after she died in a car crash years ago.  This comes out when they pull up to a neglected set of structures with a dad unwilling to help when Jack sets to doing repairs.  Robert displays the same attitude when their agent, Kate (Lindsay Duncan), comes to inspect the property and assess what they can hope to get in terms of a profit.  She is not hopeful, though deigns to agree that it has “good bones.”  Because this is a romantic comedy, you have to know there is a woman for Jack involved.  Frustrated with his father’s lack of enthusiasm or consistent participation in repairs, Jack heads into town where he meets Natalia (Valeria Bilello), a divorced mother and restaurant owner.  Taking pity on the seemingly lost (in more ways than one) Jack, Natalia invites him into her business despite it being closed and makes him a meal.  This is not only the beginning of a romance, but the introduction of Jack and Robert into a community to which they had once belonged when Jack’s mother was alive.  Following a proper dinner at Natalia’s bistro, during which Marzio (Gian Marco Tavani), Natalia’s ex-husband, makes an unwelcome appearance, they enjoy a movie with everyone else in the town square.  This turns into a birthday celebration for one of the townspeople that Robert agrees to host, and Natalia attends.  Things are progressing with Jack and Natalia until he drunkenly takes exception to Robert’s glossing over of his late wife’s memory, at least in the son’s eyes.  This ends the party a little abruptly, though Natalia comes the next day to speak with Jack.  In it, she admits the situation with Marzio, while Jack opens up about Ruth and the gallery.  As he does this, Kate and Robert are talking to a potential buyer who looks to be eager to purchase the villa.  To this point, Jack and Robert have not spoken about why Jack wants to see this piece of his childhood sold.  It takes Jack stumbling into an adjacent building for there to finally be a breakthrough for them.  In it, he discovers a number of drawings and paintings of his mother, as well as other bits of memorabilia that Robert has locked away.  Dad explains that he had done this, as well as sending his son to boarding school, because the pain of losing his wife had been too much to bear.  Robert then reveals that on the day of the accident, she had driven to pick him up because he had wandered out of sight of his care because he had been too focused on painting.  In addition to being a source of emotional pain for which he has blamed himself for decades, the trauma has also served as a painter’s block for his craft.  Some of this renewed good will, however, is wasted when Jack comes in just as Robert has sent away the potential buyers for not respecting the home’s memories.  Jack is angered by this, but hurt more when he goes to Natalia and sees her playing with her daughter and Marzio.  Assuming they had mended their relationship, Jack instead returns to London.  Robert finds his son there and tells Jacks that dad has sold his London home to finance the purchasing of the gallery.  Instead, a grateful Jack pockets the money, finalizes the divorce with Ruth, and returns to Italy.  There, Robert is teaching art students from the villa.  Obviously, Jack had made a false assumption with Natalia, and as they are talking the film ends.

Jack’s poor judgement is not a product of the fact that he was Made in Italy.  Hey, I had to find some way of working the title into a sentence.  Still, aside from the stunning scenery, even if they lack church steeples, there are some interesting moments that a Catholic film reviewer like me can analyze.  One of the bigger moments comes during a conversation between Kate and Robert.  The main point made during it is that one cannot begin again.  When I heard that statement, my Catholic brain immediately said, not true!  I am wrong, though, from a certain point of view.  Even the Church acknowledges that there are some things, because of our fallen nature, that stay with us.  Christians and emotional therapists tend to call these wounds, and those scars may linger.  As Catholics, we are called to leave our mistakes, our sins, at the foot of the Cross and move on with our lives.  Yet, the memory of them can linger, complicating any idea we have of getting over them.  Luckily, Catholicism has a built-in device for triumphing over these moments called Reconciliation, or Confession.  With that, even if those traumas resurface and lead us into error, we can go back to God, ask for forgiveness, and try, try once more.  To do so takes an acknowledgement of our troubles, which is sometimes hard.  In the movie, Robert states that it is hard for people to see themselves, which is true.  Too often, as in Matthew 7:3-5, we perceive a splinter in someone else’s eye before noticing the one in our own.  Again, this is one of the beautiful things about Confession.  It allows us the time we need to reflect on our mistakes, our own miniature Tuscan holiday, if you will, but one that we can take repeatedly without cost.  The best part, though, is that instead of living with Liam Neeson, habitual use of the Sacrament can mean eternity with God.

Indeed, there are those who will see the scenery in Made in Italy and think it a slice of Heaven.  It is gorgeous, and it made me want to go.  Until then, there is always this movie, which is fine.  I would not call this a ringing endorsement, but you could do worse.