Like Crazy (2016)

AFI’s European Union Film Showcase kicked off with this movie, so my parents figured it was one of the most promising entries and came with me. The Italian title literally translates to “The Crazy Joy,” which we all liked better.

It begins and ends at a mansion converted into a Catholic women’s mental institution, where Beatrice, an aristocrat who used to live there with dignity, is now an involuntarily committed patient. The story gets underway when she takes interest in newly arrived younger mess Donatella, who becomes her roommate. Donatella doesn’t welcome the attention at first, but Beatrice seems to awaken something in her. For pretty much the second half, the two of them run away and attempt to enjoy themselves as long as they can, whether by spending like millionaires despite low funds or by reconnecting with family members and former lovers on the outside.

I don’t know that we ever get a formal diagnosis for Beatrice, but someone suggests bipolar disorder, which had already crossed my mind. She is egotistical, garrulous, querulous, bossy, lazy, openly bigoted (though I hear that’s more common in Italy), lewd, adulterous, hypocritical, impulsive, thieving, overly gambling, and prone to lying and impersonating for no obvious reason. Her own mother can’t stand to be near her. Even Bruno from Il Sorpasso probably makes better company. Nevertheless, I do feel a little sorrier for her than for Bruno. I can see how she’d believe that she wasn’t really crazy and was committed for underhanded financial reasons.

Donatella, by contrast, mainly suffers from depression. She has a history of violence, not least against herself, though she dismisses the label of “attempted suicide” as she retains a more romanticized idea of what she did. Now she favors plenty of medication, mixed with alcohol when she gets the chance. (This does not end the way you might think.) She also sleeps with a lit flashlight in her hand and dearly hopes to see her child again despite a restraining order. While I’ve never been like that myself, I find her the more relatable of the two women. It doesn’t hurt that she’s rather pretty as nervous wrecks go.

AFI describes it as a “wacky comedy,” but we in my family all found the humor to be vastly outweighed by, well, heaviness. That is rather to be expected of a movie about mental illness. Only an irreverent oldie like The King of Hearts treats craziness as sheer comedy; the modern era has slowly sobered up about the real-world problem.

Whether or not the filmmakers had a message to send, we appreciated the bittersweet flavoring of the gestalt. It’s definitely well made, if occasionally straining credulity. And of course, it passes the Bechdel test easily.