Running around the streets unsupervised, playing dress-up with the next-door neighbours, and scaring your friends with elaborate ghost stories: can this vintage image of childhood curiosity still exist as kids are pushed from the womb, iPad in hand? Sweetheart argues yes.

Gioia Mia (Sweetheart), directed by Margherita Spampinato, starring Marco Fiore and Aurora Quattrocchi, is a seamless amalgamation of witty, clever and heartfelt. Originally released in 2025, Sweetheart is set to be the centrepiece of the 2026 Italian Film Festival (IFF). Inspired by memories of Spampinato’s own childhood, the film follows Nico (Marco Fiore), a lively and curious kid, as he navigates summer in Sicily with his great-aunt Gela (Aurora Quattrocchi). Technologically disconnected from the outside world, Nico is forced to wallow in silence and reckon with the jarring cultural differences between himself and his great-aunt. However, both Nico and Gela learn valuable lessons from each other. Nico acquires the ‘basics’ from Gela’s handwritten cookbook, cooking with ingredients he initially disdains, such as eggplant and sardines. Gela shares sensitive information with Nico about their family that would otherwise be lost—a touching moment of catharsis that rationalises Gela’s character, allowing her innate humanity to shine through her rather astute exterior. Nico’s absence of judgment towards Gela’s familial stories portrays a tender openness that accompanies childhood innocence. Grief was a powerful undertone of Sweetheart that only reared its head towards the end of the film. Sweetheartraised the question of how we can truly come to terms with losing someone forever, and the consequences of trying to bury a hurtful past. I did find that there was a lack of clarity on how the characters were related in the film, leaving me somewhat confused during certain scenes. It was not until the last fifteen or so minutes that everything started to mesh.

What I came to love and appreciate most about the film was the friendship between the elderly women in the Sicilian village. Grandmahood! The bickering and fighting had everyone in the cinema cackling to themselves in their seats. When I saw all the elderly women together, I secretly hoped to myself that my 80’s would entail me and the girls sitting by the beach with a tumbler of wine and a fruit platter, enjoying the sunset. 

The theme of generational gaps and cultural lag lies at the core of Sweetheart. Often, we find ourselves disconnected from our grandparents and their lives—lives that feel as though they might have been lived a million years ago. However, when you stop to read past letters or look at old photos of your elderly relatives, as Nico does in Sweetheart, you manage to piece together an entirely new, more vivid, picture of them. You can begin to realise that maybe we’re not so different, that the curiosity and vitality that we possess did not appear from thin air but was instead passed down to us from the generation before.

Nico’s contempt towards Gela’s simple life, and the boredom he feels being tethered to her apartment, is palpable throughout the first half of the film. I could also relate heavily to the lethargic and dreary feeling of being left with my own Yiayia and Papou and other elderly relatives as a kid. Vivid memories of lying on the cold terracotta tiles of Yiayia’s house down at Phillip Island—feeling time pass as I stared up at the busted ceiling fan—began to flood back to me. I found myself smiling in my seat as Nico’s childhood mirrored mine. His glib remarks, his childish curiosity and his frustration were all too familiar. I found that there was a deep cultural relatability about the film, which stirred up tenderness and a sense of sentimentality towards the characters.

At certain times the scenes were slow—even mundane. However, it proved to be a positive component of the film. As Nico explains to his mother, staying with his great-aunt felt like being sent back to the “dark ages”, illustrated by the lack of Wi-Fi and air-conditioning. This leisurely pace, typical of the southern European lifestyle, was quite mesmerising. As the film drifted along, foot off the accelerator, I also found myself slowing down. My attention was drawn to the set pieces: the bedsheets; the striking ornate lamps in Gela’s room; and the intricate woodwork on the door. I found that I was allowed to enjoy the setting, sit quietly with all of Gela’s antiques, and mentally roam around her apartment as if it were my own. To appreciate Sweetheart, you must take a breath.

Sweetheart will screen as a part of the St. Ali Italian Film Festival 2026 from September 18th to October 15th.