I'm not scared

Denounced in certain quarters for being overly Miramaxical, I’m Not Scared could certainly be said to be typical Weinsteinian output. Adapted from a nostalgic euro-pudding novel by Niccolo Ammaniti; it boasts balmy locations, touching relationships and cute, tanned kids. However, this is a much better film than say Chocolat (not difficult), Captain Corelli’s Mandolin or Malena, combining a distinctly Famous Five adventure tale with nefarious deeds and parental treachery.
The title may protest the contrary with characteristic Italian swagger, but the 10-year-old protagonist Michele (Cristiano) becomes utterly terrified when he discovers a smeared feral creature under the abandoned house where he and his friends while away the golden Mediterranean summer of 1978.
The monster is in fact a filthy kidnapped boy, but an even nastier shock awaits Michele as the pair bond. Slowly he realises that his new friend’s incarceration involves the entire ramshackle Southern Italian village where he lives, and perhaps even his own parents.
Like Salvatores’ Mediterraneo, this is a beautiful, idyllic piece of cinema that feels like you’re sunbathing throughout, though the lazy, stifling sun is counterpointed by a lively child-centric zest and a dark, vaguely sinister edge. Indeed, I’m Not Scared is decidedly more thrilling than your average pretty Miramax chocolate-box picture, and my viewing companion found herself shrieking out of her chair on more than one occasion. (NB to self - only bring Kim Porcelli along to less nervy Disney movies from now on, lest hotpress lose its First Lady of letters altogether.) Be fair warned though, you may find yourself dashing to the nearest travel agent as soon as the end credits roll on this accomplished fable. Bueno, as the lovely Nancy Dell’Olio might say, if her grasp of Italian was as poor as
mine.