Who are we to judge women like Maria Montessori, Lili d’Alengy, or Delia? Maria, whose son was raised by a nanny in the countryside while she devoted her life to educating children; Lili, who abandoned her disabled daughter to build a life as a courtesan; and Delia, trapped in an abusive relationship, demeaned and beaten daily – why don’t these women make different choices?

The real question isn’t who we are to judge but, rather, who these women are within the context of their time and circumstances. Maria, Lili, and Delia are portrayed in two interconnected films as embodiments of female strength, resilience, and the high cost of navigating a male-dominated world. What was once deemed weakness or sin is now seen as a fight for dignity and rights.

In Montessori – La nouvelle femme (2023), Léa Todorov’s first film, Maria, played intensely by Jasmine Trinca, is the pioneer who fought to revolutionise education. Born in 1870, Maria was one of Italy’s first female medical graduates and dedicated her life to developing what became known as the Montessori method. The film reveals the personal struggles behind her public persona, focusing on her relationship with Giuseppe Montesano (Raffaele Esposito), with whom she runs an institute for children with special needs. Though Maria and Giuseppe have a child, societal norms prevent them from living together as an unmarried couple. and the child is raised by a nanny in the countryside, its landscape beautifully portrayed as a Macchiaioli painting. Maria refuses to marry Giuseppe to retain her independence. Nonetheless, we wonder what rights and freedoms she truly has in this oppressive society.

Maria Montessori (courtesy of Palace)

Enter Lili, the rich French courtesan played by Leïla Bekhti. When Maria laments that Giuseppe takes all the credit and money for their joint work, Lili tells her that ‘wealth is freedom’. A key figure in the story, Lili fled Paris to Rome when her estranged daughter, Tina (Rafaëlle Sonneville-Caby), was returned to her custody. Ashamed of the girl’s disabilities and concerned about her own social standing, Lili hopes to enrol Tina at Maria’s institute for children deemed ‘deficient’ or ‘degenerate’ by the all-male board of directors. Maria, however, fights to prove that these neurodivergent children can learn and become part of society, battling the prejudices of her time. The film’s emotional depth is heightened by the casting of children with real disabilities, and the crisp dialogue, both in Italian and French, enhances Maria’s revolutionary pedagogy of care and motherhood that helps these children thrive. As Tina makes remarkable progress, Lili softens, and the bond between her and Maria deepens. Both women, each carrying the weight of their own maternal struggles, come to understand and help one another. Together, they face the challenges of a society in which the seeds of feminist and educational revolutions are taking root, despite the obstacles and sacrifices along the way.

In C’è ancora domani (There’s Still Tomorrow, 2024), Paola Cortellesi’s directorial début, themes of sacrifice and redemption are explored through a blend of hard-hitting social commentary and cinematic magic. The film, set in post-World War II Rome, has won six David di Donatello awards, even outperforming Barbie at the Italian box office. In a striking visual parallel, the opening scene mirrors Barbie’s iconic moment, as Delia (played by Cortellesi) twirls in her home to a melodic tune – yet the contrast is clear: this is not Barbieland.

Delia, trapped in an abusive marriage with her brutal husband, Ivano (the brilliant Valerio Mastandrea), is burdened with caring for his bedridden father while working multiple menial jobs. Her resigned expression and big, sorrowful eyes evoke Giulietta Masina’s character in Fellini’s La Strada, a nod to Italian Neorealism emphasised by the monochrome visuals and Roman slang. Delia’s life is a portrait of postwar poverty and reflects the limited choices for women in that era.

At the heart of the film is Delia’s hope, symbolised by a secret piece of paper whose significance unfolds throughout the story. It represents her possible escape, building tension as viewers wonder if it will offer her a path to freedom. Cortellesi’s performance, both heart-rending and powerful, captures a woman who is fragile but also determined to break free from a cycle of abuse for the sake of her daughter, Marcella (Romana Maggiora Vergano), who represents a new generation of women.

The film resonates with Italian audiences, reflecting stories passed down by parents and grandparents about postwar struggles, mirrored in the detailed costume and set design. It also touches on the enduring issue of gender-based violence and toxic machismo that continues to plague Italy, contributing to rising femicide rates. Despite its grim subject matter, C’è ancora domani skilfully weaves in moments of beauty, humour, and artistic expression. One poignant scene portrays domestic violence as a tango between Ivano and Delia, echoing Pina Bausch’s Café Müller. The final scene, set to a contemporary arrangement of a folk song, ends on a hopeful note. By tackling Italy’s patriarchal culture and offering a story of resilience, C’è ancora domani stands as both a powerful social commentary and a moving story of survival.

Montessori and There’s Still Tomorrow are screening nationally as part of the 2024 St. ALi Italian Film Festival, which concludes in October.