There is a moment about halfway through Alice Rohrwacher’s La Chimera where the protagonist, Arthur (Josh O’Connor), stands at the edge of an illegally dug tomb. He is a tomb robber, an tombarolo , in 1980s rural Tuscany. He has a strange, almost supernatural gift: he can feel the presence of underground chambers, a dowsing rod for death. In this moment, the camera doesn’t rush. It lingers. Dust motes swim in a beam of Etruscan light. Arthur lowers himself into the darkness. He is not looking for treasure. He is looking for her .
In one memorable scene, a snobbish archaeologist calmly explains that the tombaroli are destroying history. But the film invites us to sympathize with the diggers. They see their work as a redistribution of ancestral heritage. If the artifacts are going to rot underground, why shouldn't they be used to feed a hungry family? La Chimera
Our protagonist is Arthur (a magnificent, brooding Josh O’Connor), a British misfit with a peculiar gift. Using a makeshift dowsing rod (a simple forked branch), Arthur can feel the pull of the underground. He locates the buried tombs of the Etruscans—the ancient civilization that predated the Romans—with an uncanny, supernatural accuracy. There is a moment about halfway through Alice
, which serves as a profound meditation on memory, the ethics of excavation, and the unattainable dreams that haunt the human soul. Little White Lies 1. Narrative Framework and Protagonist In this moment, the camera doesn’t rush
Rohrwacher favors long, deliberate takes, naturalistic performances, and a near-poetic visual language. The cinematography (by Hélène Louvart) bathes ruins, fields, and interiors in a warm, tactile light, making the physical landscape feel like another character. The pacing is meditative, allowing small gestures and textures to accrue emotional weight. Rohrwacher’s direction balances realism with a faintly surreal or fable-like tone, creating an atmosphere that’s at once intimate and mythic.