My Brilliant Friend Recap: The One with Don Achille

Well be recapping each episode of My Brilliant Friend. This recap is written by someone who has read (and loved) the original books, but there will be no spoilers for future plot points. New episodes are airing Sunday and Monday nights, through December 10.

Four years pass in the course of this episode—sort of. Right after the cold open theres a transition that suggests months have gone by, and when Lila (Ludovica Nasti) and Elena (Elisa del Genio) go to recover the money they received from Don Achille (Antonio Pennarella), it seems to be summer. But its longer, surely—the girls go from learning how read and write in the first episode, to reading their hard-won Little Women so many times they memorized whole passages. By the time the episode ends, Elena is gearing up for middle school, which would make both of them about 10 years old.

My Brilliant Friend chooses to encapsulate Don Achilles life and death in this one episode, even though mostly, he is not present. Pennarella has exactly one scene to make an impression, and he does, chewing that grimy cigarette as he looks over tiny, defiant Lila, wondering what to make of her. Lila hates Don Achille, while Lenù mostly just fears him—her cordial “Buona sera, buon appetito” (good evening, have a nice meal) as she flees was a genuinely funny moment in an otherwise tragic episode—and yet Lila values his money even more than Lenù does. Lenù wants to buy more dolls, but Lila has her sights set on whatever comes after childhood, and her ambition and creativity is desperate for an outlet beyond what the neighborhood can easily offer her. The money gifts them a book; the book inspires Lila to create an illustrated fairy tale out of cheap paper and crayons. The book, The Blue Fairy, is proof of what shes capable of, but by the end of the episode, no one cares what Lila is capable of. The money simply fueled a fantasy; perhaps that is why, when Achille is killed, Lila is so obsessed with the details of his death.

The question of whether or not girls should be educated seems distant, from an American perspective: Domestically, college students are now majority female. But within the lifetimes of many Americans the reality was more complicated; and when you venture further afield, the question of girls education, even on the basic literacy level, is much more controversial than it should be. The kidnapping of Nigerian schoolgirls or the acid attack against Malala Yousafzi, which have since become global talking points and inspiration for NGOs, are escalations of a simpler arithmetic—one that seeks to limit the spaces where a girl might be safe, or might be encouraged to succeed

Whats striking about My Brilliant Friend is how this struggle to be seen is treated so tenderly, from the perspective of the girls who suffer—not, instead, as the struggles of people somewhere distant and backwards, somewhere else. The girls see—with what is by now becoming their signature devastating clarity—how their families are prepared to justify denying them this opportunity. I appreciate how complicated My Brilliant Friend makes these symmetrical family conversations, which reflect both narrow-minded prejudice and the anguish of poverty. I watched “The Money” twice, and Im still wondering exactly what happened between Elenas parents (Annarita Vitolo and Luca Gallone) to move them to have her attend middle school. By contrast, in Lilas house, Fernando (Antonio Buonanno) mostly holds the floor in argument with Lilas older brother Rino (Tommaso Rusciano) while Nunzia (Valentina Acca), a woman who has given up, does housework in the background. (Im taking a swing here, but its interesting to me that Lilas doll was named “Nu,” the first syllable of her mothers name; Nunzias helplessness and inability to act is the first thing Lila chucks from her life.)

This culminates in one of the most heartbreaking images in the entire series, where Fernando, driven to fury by his willful daughter, throws her out a window. The force breaks the girls arm. In Elenas narration, the moment is so quickly described it is almost disposable—but only because there seems to be no other language to address what has occurred. “Suddenly the shouting stopped and a few seconds later my friend flew out the window, passed over my head, and landed on the asphalt behind me. I was stunned. Fernando looked out, still screaming horrible threats at his daughter. He had thrown her like a thing.” None of the characters live in a world where they can acknowledge how terrible Fernando has been to his daughter, and so the moment passes into the violence of the rest of their lives. But on-screen, it is stark and horrible. Lilas half-smirk, as she insists she isnt hurt, is shattering.

On some level, the entirety of the Neapolitan novels boil down to this single rupture, in the otherwise parallel lives of Lila and Lenù: One continues on to middle school, located outside the neighborhood, while the other isnt permitted to. Lilas intense fantasies about Don Achille stem from this realization, as do her close observations of the Pelusos and the Solaras. When Alfredo Peluso (Gennaro Canonico) is arrested by the Carabineri, the camera—and, presumably, Lila—watches how Manuela Solara (Imma Villa) takes the news. By the end of this episode, Lila goes from a girl who seeks to see the broader world—and, with her little book, to contribute to it—into a girl whose concerns are constrained into ever-tighter circles. If she is to be kept from school, her furious, brilliant energy will stew in the neighborhood, and already, its power can be felt.

The neighborhood that Lila and Lenù grow up in is based on Rione Luzzatti, a neighborhood that is still so poorly regarded, a writer for The Guardian couldnt even get her tour guide to take her there. Its just a couple of miles away from the ocean; perhaps four miles away from the fanciest oceanside district. The section of the episode where Elena and Lila skip school to walk to the ocean is lovely, suffused with the naive joy of youth. Nastis mask of defiance, as Lila, is so well maintained that its alarming when she drops it, here, looking behind her in trepidation as the distance between her and the village lengthens. Elena, by contrast, looks lighter and taller, for every step she takes away from the village. She would keep going, all the way to the ocean, but Lila suddenly doesnt want to.

Its likely that Lila tried to set Elena up for a punishment; its also likely that Lila wanted the punishment to be the end of Elenas hopes for middle school. It seems that Elenas mother didnt want her to go to middle school, but it also seems as if she refrains from using Elenas disobedience as leverage to take her out of school. Its true that Lila is terribly oppressed in the neighborhood, and she knows it; but its also true that shes afraid of the rest of the world once shes outside of her familiar confines. Its true that Lila wants Elena to stay with her. But its also true that she wants Elena to leave, to succeed, to be something she cant be. My Brilliant Friend establishes this from what is nearly the very beginning: Elena and Lila cant both leave the neighborhood. Someone is going to have to stay behind.

Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Full ScreenPhotos:11 Nonfiction Books to Read This Fall

The Flame: Poems Notebooks Lyrics Drawings by Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohens posthumous The Flame (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux) opens with “Happens to the Heart,” a poem written in the last year of his life. “I was always working steady / But I never called it art / I was funding my depression / Meeting Jesus reading Marx,” it begins. Cohen, whose awards are too numerous to mention at length, but include accolades ranging from the 2011 Glenn Gould Prize to a posthumous 2018 Grammy for best rock performance for “You Want It Darker,” died at the age of 82 the night before the 2016 presidential election. A few weeks before, hed told a reporter he was “ready to go,” but was planning to put together the book that became The Flame—a compilation of poems and song lyrics alongside illustrations and select entries from his journals—before he did. Fans will be moved by the intimate look inside the brain of the legendary (and multi-talented) songwriter. (Amazon.com)Photo: From Farrar, Straus, and Giroux.

The Fifth Risk by Michael Lewis

In two deeply researched articles for Vanity Fair, Michael Lewis, the author of several best-sellers including The Undoing Project, Flash Boys, The Big Short, The Blind Side, and Moneyball, took readers into the depths of the Departments of Energy (September 2017) and Agriculture (November 2017) in the aftermath of the 2016 presidential election. The Fifth Risk (W. W. Norton) compiles these two exposés and adds a third deep dive, this time into the Department of Commerce. Lewis points to trends across all departments, the strongest being the lack of expertise and knowledge those new departmental leaders appointed by the president are exhibiting; given that the federal departments are essential for keeping the government running smoothly, Lewiss findings are especially unsettling. (Amazon.com)Photo: From W. W. Norton.

The End of the End of the Earth by Jonathan Franzen

Jonathan Franzen may be best known for his novels (Purity, Freedom, The Corrections), but arguably the most controversial of the literary Jonathans is also a prolific essayist. In The End of the End of the Earth (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux), a collection of personal essays that range in topic from his love of wild birds (which is vast) to an appreciation of Edith Wharton to a post-9/11 musing, Franzen displays his signature precision and deadpan humor. Come for the snappy sentences, stay for Franzens explanation of his public fight with the Audubon Society, which once called his stance on bird conservation “odd climate neo-denialism.” Inside baseball at its finest. (Amazon.com)Photo: From Farrar, Straus, and Giroux.

Good and Mad: The Revolutionary Power of Womens Anger by Rebecca Traister

Rebecca Traisters 2016 All the Single Ladies: Unmarried Women and the Rise of an Independent Nation made waves for its exploration of how the American single woman was growing as a demographic, and therefore becoming an increasingly powerful political and economic force. Now, two years later and months into the Trump presidency, Traister returns with Good and Mad (Simon & Schuster), which speaks to the current zeitgeist by looking at its historical precedent. “Remember all men would be tyrants if they could,” she writes, quoting Abigail Adamss words to her husband, John, in 1776. “If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion.” From suffragettes to #MeToo, Traisters book is a hopeful, maddening compendium of righteous feminine anger, and the good it can do when wielded efficiently—and collectively. (Amazon.com)Photo: From Simon & Schuster.

Saudi America: The Truth About Fracking and How Its Changing the World by Bethany McLean

Ten years ago, a lot of people hadnt heard of fracking, but today, this process of collecting oil and gas from shale rock is well-known. In the past few years the practice has boomed, encouraging those in the energy industry, Wall Street, and politics (including the president) to hope—and ambitiously declare—that its just a matter of time before America becomes completely energy-independent, ending the U.S.s reliance on foreign suppliers like Saudi Arabia and Russia. The journalist and V.F. contributing editor Bethany McLean, who closely covered the Enron scandal, co-authoring the 2003 best-seller The Smartest Guys in the Room: The Amazing Rise and Scandalous Fall of Enron, takes a closer look at this lofty goal in her new book, Saudi America (Columbia Global Reports), undermining the enthusiasm of energy-independence claims—but not for the reasons we would assume. “The biggest reason to doubt the most breathless predictions about Americas future as an oil and gas colossus has more to do with Wall Street than with geopolitics or geology,” says McLean in an introduction to her book—in other words, its not a well-positioned, predictable supply of oil and gas on U.S. soil thats creating the buzz around this energy stream. Rather, McLean suggests, the boom should actually be attributed to low interest rates. “Questions about the sustainability of the boom are no longer limited to a small set of skeptics,” she writes, predicting how this burgeoning industry will affect our own politics (as it threatens Saudi Arabia and Russias energy dominance) and bringing in the industrys key players, including the late Aubrey McClendon, co-founder of Chesapeake Energy, the fracking start-up which grew swiftly before failing spectacularly. (Amazon.com)Photo: From Columbia Global Reports.

All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung

The memoir All You Can Ever Know (Catapult) is written with all the style and narrative of great fiction, so its no surprise that acclaimed novelists Celeste Ng (Everything I Never Told You, Little Fires Everywhere) and Alexander Chee (Edinburgh, The Queen of the Night) have sung its praises. The debut, written by Catapult magazines editor in chief, Nicole Chung, traces the authors life from being put up for adoption by her Korean parents when she was born prematurely in a Seattle hospital, to being raised by a white family in a sheltered Oregon town. Chung describes a childhood of constantly being the only nonwhite child in the room, of never seeing people who looked like her, and of facing prejudice because of it. As these and other layers of the seemingly uncomplicated adoption come to light, Chung highlights the difficulties not only of her unique situation, but of adoptees in general. In a recent article about the book, Chung wrote, “I often wonder if I would have become a storyteller if not for adoption. On the one hand, that is in my genes: my birth father is a writer. Yet I do think it was partly feeling like an outsider—not just in my white family, but in the place where I grew up—that made me almost desperate for a way to express who I was.” (Amazon.com)Photo: From Catapult.

Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know: The Fathers of Wilde, Yeats, and Joyce by Colm Tóibín

Lady Caroline Lamb used the phrase “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know” to describe her lover, Lord Byron, in the early 19th century. (Lady Caroline notoriously exceeded Byron on all counts, and he ended the affair after only months. Her subsequent wrath resulted in a scandal that forced Byron to leave his home country of England.) Irish writer Colm Tóibín, the author of fiction (including 2009s Brooklyn, the basis of the 2015 film starring Saoirse Ronan), nonfiction, and two plays, re-purposes Lady Carolines words for the title of his new book, Mad, Bad, Dangerous to Know (Scribner), which explores the relationships between these three iconic Irish writers and their fathers. The book, a reckoning with the greatness of Tóibíns literary predecessors, introduces the dads through the Dublin neighborhood where they all lived and worked (Beckett also makes an appearance), reflecting on modern Irish cultural identity in the process. Tóibín concludes the book with a poem by James Joyce, written on the occasion of his only grandsons birth, titled “Ecce Puer” (literally translating to “behold the young boy”):

Of the dark past
A child is born;
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.

Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!

Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.

A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!

(Amazon.com)

Photo: From Scribner.PreviousNext

Sonia SaraiyaSonia Saraiya is Vanity Fair's television critic. Previously she was at Variety, Salon, and The A.V. Club. She lives in New York.