#primavera posting

I doubt this post will be a big hit because there seem to be approx. five other people on this entire beloved hellsite who've seen the film... and all of them seem to have a different, much more romantically/erotically charged take of the central relationship than I do. Which is completely fine, of course, it's just not how I view the characters personally.

But I want to write about the way I interpreted this story because ever since I saw the movie for the first time, I've been wishing that someone'd post some sleep-deprived analysis about it that'd make my brain sparkle when I read it. So, you know, be the change you want to see in the world.

So, Primavera tells the story of Cecilia, a teenage violinist in a 18th century Venetian orphanage/conservatory, and Antonio Vivaldi, her new music teacher. There's a war going on out there somewhere and Cecilia's arranged fiancé isn't here... but one day, the war will be over, and after Cecilia marries, she won't be allowed to play the violin anymore. Despite this, Antonio (let's call him that, because this isn't a Vivaldi biopic, whatever the real person was or wasn't like is 100% irrelevant to what happens in the movie) makes her the first chair of the orphanage orchestra, and they go on to enchant Venice with their music, for as long as destiny allows them to.

To me, this is a story about soulmates, and how finding yours doesn't necessarily mean you'll become any happier for it, nor does it guarantee you'll be the person your soulmate needs or deserves. And yet, it's still worth it, somehow, perhaps.

I think there is an immense... not even necessarily love, not like that word is usually understood, but connection between Cecilia and Antonio. Each approaches their art in a way that complements the other, and when they play music together, it's just the two of them and the rest of the world fades into the background for a bit. When they play together, it's not playing for external validation, nor is it art for art's sake or because it's fun or satisfying to the person playing the music themself, it's a secret third thing where two souls touch on a level that neither words nor other kinds of actions can reach.

I don't see this relationship as romantic or sexual, but I don't think it's necessarily wholly platonic either – I think it's a deep connection that exists outside or beyond the rigid little boxes we try so hard to shove all our relationships and experiences into. And I guess that nebulousness is at the heart of what makes this story feel so tragic to me. There is no way for these two characters to love each other in a way that they could explain to themselves, or to each other, let alone the rest of the world.

I think they see each other, all the way into each other's soul, apart from one thing: Antonio doesn't understand, or perhaps doesn't allow himself to understand, just how much Cecilia does not want to get married. To be able to cope with both his own choices and the society they live in, and also because he's a product of that society, he chooses to look the other way. Besides, whatever they have is not that, and even if it was that or whatever it now might be, he couldn't make a counteroffer for her hand... so it's useless to think about it too much.

Both characters are trapped inside a system with no room for nonconformity. Cecilia is near the bottom of the ladder, and Antonio is on the rung above her – but above him, there's the director of the orphanage, and above him, there are the nobles that actually pay for their entire operation. Cecilia is right when she says she's powerless to change her own life and that Antonio isn't – but the orphanage director is also right when he says that in their society, it's not a good look for a priest to step in and prevent an orphan's marriage to a nobleman, and that if word gets out, it'll reflect on the entire institution's reputation. But of course, both men also have greedy and selfish motives here: Antonio doesn't drop the issue just because he feels powerless but because the director promises him new instruments if he doesn't meddle, and the director isn't worried about his orphan girls' reputations remaining spotless because protecting them is the right thing to do but because they'll be harder to profit from if they don't appear perfectly chaste.

And then Antonio grows a couple of inches of spine, but it's too little, too late. The love is still there, but the soul connection via music has been taken away from them, and there is no way to salvage the situation. Even if there was a way for Cecilia to remain in the orchestra for now, it wouldn't last. There aren't any older women amongst the musicians, after all.

In any case, the ending is very depressing to me, especially if I look at it on a wholly literal level (and tbh, I'm having a hard time coming up with an interpretation that doesn't also include the literal.) I get that Cecilia needs to free herself from the institution, but where will she go? At that point in history, patriarchy is absolutely everywhere. If you're a woman and/or poor, you don't have rights. Cecilia has left one oppressive structure behind her, but how will she evade getting trapped in another?

But perhaps being free from the musical orphan to arranged marriage pipeline gives her the same kind of joy that playing music did: it won't last forever and it may end in pain and sorrow, but it's still worth experiencing.

This movie breaks my heart.

I'm going to read the book the film is based on next, but I wanted to get these thoughts out of my system first, because the way the original author tells the story is probably altogether different from the way I've experienced it so far, and will likely shape the way I interpret the movie going forward.

So, here's a little look into some of my experience with the movie, not quite from the bottom sediment but perhaps from the mesopelagic zone of the soul:

I honestly don't know if I can even really recommend it to my beloved mutuals. I mean, by all means, go see it – but since the whole thing feels like it was made in a petri dish for me specifically, I don't feel qualified to judge whether it might be enjoyable for anyone else.