Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Le Pupille’ on Disney+, a Delightful Christmas Short About Nuns, Orphans and the Great Cake That Stands Between Them

Le Pupille is an oddity on Disney+, a foreign short film seemingly destined to be lost in the streamer’s holiday and franchise bric-a-brac. Review spoiler alert: Don’t let that happen, because it’s a delight. Alfonso Cuaron is a credited producer of the Italian film, written and directed by Alice Rohrwacher, about orphans and nuns quietly battling for sovereignty over a Christmas cake. And yes, it’s as amusing as that sounds.

LE PUPILLE: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: There’s always one goody-goody in the group. Serafina (Melissa Falasconi) made her bed as expected, and all the other orphan girls didn’t. Is she sucking up to the nuns or just doing what she thinks is right? Not sure. Her sweet, cherubic mug is a mystery for the ages. Not that the superior mother around here, Sister Fioralba (Alba Rohrwacher, the director’s sibling) cares, or is nice to her, or is nice to anyone, really. Everything with her is the lord this and the lord that and she rules the boarding school with a strict speak-softly-and-wield-the-iron-fist-of-Jesus philosophy.

It’s Christmas Eve, and the day is spent prepping for the big midnight nativity throwdown. The girls get dressed and stand rigid as Fioralba makes them listen to the wartime news report on the radio. Hard times: men are off dying in battle and food and supplies and hope are scarce. Sister Stricthabit leaves the room for a moment and little Serafina walks near the radio and accidentally tunes in a happy song with a sticky lyric that goes, “Kiss kiss me on my little mouth.” I know – oh, jeez. The girls sing and dance and get busted and get soap dragged across their tongues for their trouble. And to think, even soap is scarce these days, and this is how it gets used? Even Serafina, who didn’t even sing or dance, tastes suds, because the song earwormed itself into her brain and that, according to the damn head nun, means she’s “wicked.”

That evening, the nativity rages full-on. The girls hold rigid in angel wings and puckered faces in harnesses that make them appear as if they’re hovering above the ground. A woman in furs and pearls arrives with a request for prayer, but unlike the others, she hasn’t a loved one at war, but a philandering husband. She gives them a cake which she says is made from 70 eggs. Seventy eggs? In this economy? But there it is, and to waste it would be a big fat freaking sin. I won’t divulge what happens with the cake, but I did wonder if it’d be better to see the orphan girls eat it and enjoy the rare indulgence, or to see them smash it in Mother Superior’s effing face.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Benedetta! But with more actual cake.

Performance Worth Watching: If Falasconi was any more disarming, she’d be an international armistice.

Memorable Dialogue: Late at night. Everyone’s asleep. Except Serafina. Earworm’s acting up again. She leans in close to a friend:

Serafina: Do you hear something in my head?

Girl: No!

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: Wonderful. Wonderful wonderful wonderful. Le Pupille is a mischievous little thing with a smartly realized setting and visual aesthetic. Shot on warm and grainy 16mm film, it looks suitably authentic – and the emotions and laughs you’ll experience are, too. Rohrwacher masterfully directs her young cast, capturing their innocent wildness and very subtly underscoring their fleeting moments of joy with the sadness of their situation: It’s Christmas. They have no families to go home to. And they’re stuck with a nun who turns a simple offering of cake into a goddamn lesson about selflessness and piety. Not a moment’s rest with this woman, even on Christmas.

I’m not going to say the film is an indictment of religious superstition. Well, maybe of extreme religious superstition, because what’s the point of telling a half-pint little girl that she’s “wicked” when she’s just doing her best? Hasn’t she suffered enough? Brewing in the subtext are lightly provocative ruminations on conformity, morality and purity. A little joy goes a long way, and Le Pupille is bursting with it.

Our Call: STREAM IT. Among the handful of new Christmas movies I’ve seen this year, Le Pupille is by far the best of them.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com.