Kidnapped (Rapito)
As a non-religious person, I find myself always intrigued by religious stories, churches, architecture, gossip, and, of course, art. One evening, while waiting in the theater for another movie, I stumbled upon the trailer for “Kidnapped.” Instantly captivated, I bought a ticket for the next day. Everything about Europe excites me—the rich history, the profound Catholic culture, and the diverse lifestyles spanning from the medieval era to the 19th century.
“Kidnapped” (Italian: “Rapito”), directed by Marco Bellocchio, beautifully captures the true story of Edgardo Mortara, a Jewish boy born in 1851 in Bologna. In 1858, when Edgardo was just six years old, he was taken from his family by the authorities of the Papal States. This dramatic event was triggered by a secret baptism performed by the family’s Catholic maid, Anna Morisi, who feared Edgardo might die from an illness. The Church’s position at the time was that a baptized child could not be raised by non-Christians, leading to Edgardo’s removal from his Jewish family and placement in a Catholic institution.
Despite his parents’ desperate attempts to reclaim him, Pope Pius IX refused to return Edgardo, arguing that the boy was now a Christian and thus should be raised as such. This incident sparked international outrage and significant political consequences, contributing to the eventual decline of the Papal States’ temporal power.
Edgardo Mortara was raised as a Catholic and became deeply attached to Pope Pius IX. He later became a priest, taking the name Pio Edgardo Mortara. Throughout his life, he attempted to convert Jews, including his own family. Edgardo spent his final years in a Belgian abbey, where he passed away in 1940.
The film delves into the intense emotional and social ramifications of his abduction, set against the backdrop of 19th-century Italy. The narrative intertwines themes of faith, identity, and institutional power, making it a compelling watch for anyone fascinated by historical dramas.
The music used in the movie is outstanding—its tense string compositions and fast violin pieces create an atmosphere of nervous energy, immersing me into the movie within seconds. I also teared up quite a few times, especially during a scene where the young Edgardo seems to awaken to the reality of his kidnapping. As he is being taken out the door, he suddenly turns around, rushes back to his mother, and hugs her tightly, refusing to let go, tears streaming down his face as he screams that he wants to go home and be with his siblings. His mother, heartbroken and furious about the abduction, is also helpless, and this scene truly broke my heart.
I thought I could view this whole story from a detached perspective since I am not religious, but the more I put myself into the characters’ shoes, the more I felt for each of them—the maid, the parents, the Pope, the cardinals, and all the pious pilgrims within the historical setting. Is it really a kidnap? Should I feel as furious as Edgardo’s siblings when his mother was on her deathbed, and he was trying to baptize her, a pious Jew? Who should we feel sorry for and who should we blame? These questions lingered in my mind after the screening, and I couldn’t find answers.
As I walked out of the theater, back into the reality of the 21st century, surrounded by modern buildings bathed in the sunset, I felt as though I had left a piece of myself in Rome in the 1850s.