It’s beautiful in its own right, filled with regret and tenderness and folly. And Di Palma’s autumnal, lived-in images — a far cry from Storaro’s otherworldly, super-saturated dances of light — turn out to be ideal for a tale so perplexing, tragicomic, and human . . . It’s the rare Bertolucci film that evokes the messiness of life. And it ends with one of the most affecting finales of his career, in a scene that offers some resolution but little closure.
July 25, 2017