‘Familia’ Review – A Rich Emotional Exploration Of Psychological Trauma And Abuse

Trauma rarely disappears when the abuser is gone. Memories of control, fear, and humiliation shape thoughts and relationships long after the violence has ended. Survivors often find that the past continues to be present in the future, and director Francesco Costabile (Una Femmina: The Code of Silence) reminds us of this in his Familia, balancing fragility with precision and emotion.

The movie, based on the memoir Nonsarà sempre così (It won’t always be like this) by Luigi Celeste, is an Italian tragedy through and through. What begins as a story about an abused wife and mother, Licia (Barbara Ronchi), and her two young sons, Luigi (aka Gigi) and Alessandro, temporarily freed from their violent husband and father, Franco Celeste (Francesco Di Leva), quickly evolves into a melodrama about a broken family surrounded by violence, abuse, and pain. Recently released from prison, Franco resumes his abusive patterns, beating his wife and playing psychosocial mind games with his now grown-up children. Affection and brutality intertwine so easily, and Franco can go from being a hard-hitting husband to a gentle father in a heartbeat. Even after the most brutal hit, he insists on hugging his sons. A gesture that, instead of offering the much-needed comfort, strengthens his control over the family.

Giuseppe Maio’s cinematography (La slitta) intensifies the dread and physical tension of the family’s interactions even more. Half-lit frames convey that the family is trapped in darkness, no matter how close they come to escaping. Franco’s increased dominance over the family and his intensified presence allow Di Leva (A Quiet Life) to step into the spotlight and deliver a terrifying yet compelling performance. His Franco is a figure who can beg forgiveness with the sweetest sincerity and, in the next breath, tighten the grip of fear.

A grip that smothers his wife further with each passing moment. Licia could have easily become a woman overwhelmed by despair, leading to an overwhelming portrayal, but Ronchi (Sweet Dreams) chooses a more emotionally restrained and sharper approach. Despite being consumed by fear and still falling for Franco’s charms, she clings to her hope and determination to shelter her son from the life she wants to escape from. The unease and looming threat she has carried from the start show no sign of dissipating, resulting in a highly emotional performance. Together with the brilliant Di Leva, Ronchi harshly maps out a maze of coercion, misery, and pain.

A maze that, sadly, not every family member can escape from. Alessandro (Marco Cicalese) has been able to create a life for himself far away from the family havoc and violence, while Luigi (Francesco Gheghi) has chosen a more perilous path. Trauma, abuse, and family trauma have been following the latter his entire life, and it seems like that cycle will never be broken. Luigi’s cruel relationship with his father, both current and past, has led him straight to a dangerous fascist movement where violence and fights have once again caught up with him.

While the fascist aspect comes to the foreground more during the second part of the feature, the violent energy in Gheghi’s (The Invisible Thread) performance is present from the start. Slowly and steadily, you also get to see many tender and emotional moments. As Luigi nears fatherhood, the fear of becoming like his father starts to consume him more and more, and he confides to his girlfriend that he does not want her to end up like his mother.

Despite the fascist outbursts and the eyebrow-raising salutes, the movie never becomes overly political. Costabile doesn’t delve deeply into Luigi’s ideology; the subplot is meant to connect to the main story, but is often sidelined. That’s because the family and their broken dynamics stay at the heart of this film throughout its two-hour runtime. It’s where the fear, melodrama, and intensity lie, and Costabile uses them to the fullest. Cowritten by Costabile, Vittorio Moroni (If I Close My Eyes I’m Not Here) and Adriano Chiarelli (Pure Hearts), the screenplay effectively conveys the fluctuating emotions that come with domestic abuse. From Licia giving Franco repeated second chances, despite his violent nature, to Luigi feeling the presence of his father in his own family life, there’s no escaping from misery and violence.

While the story itself seems relatively straightforward, as it’s about a controlling pater familias, the movie is anything but simple. The violence in this feature is passed down from generation to generation and becomes a law of nature embedded in daily habits. Even a simple card game can become dangerous without warning. Costabile neither over-sympathizes with domestic abuse nor exaggerates the political aspects. Through carefully crafted dialogue and plot, he creates a multilayered script that thrives on nuance. To fully expose the family’s vulnerability and complexity, he uses prolonged, deliberate takes that stretch each emotional moment across the frame. This approach allows viewers to observe highs and lows fully and fully immerse themselves in this part psychological thriller, part horror, and full melodrama. As if the tension – both physically and psychologically – wasn’t high enough, the brooding score paired with unsettling sound design elevates it dramatically.

Familia slightly overstays its welcome, yet Italy’s entry for the 2026 Academy Awards as Best International Feature is a rich emotional exploration of psychological trauma, its lasting effects and intricate character dynamics.

Familia will be released in the US this year courtesy of Breaking Glass Pictures, with an exact date yet to be announced. It was selected as the Italian entry for Best International Feature Film at the upcoming 98th Academy Awards.