Because it's a Russian movie, The Italian has nothing to do with Italy. This isn't just an obvious statement of fact but a suggestion about mood and meaning. Right from the start, The Italian plays against images of light and ease that we often associate with Italy, at least on superficial levels.

Dank, cold and brimming with physical discomfort, The Italian begins by immersing us in the harsh world of a Russian orphanage, where an Italian couple have come to adopt Vanya (Kolya Siridonov).

This being post-Soviet Russia, we expect the man who runs the orphanage to have a seedy, disreputable look. He doesn't disappoint. Basically, he and a woman who arranges adoptions view children as tiny potential profit centers. Their activities open a window through which we get another look at contemporary Russia, a place where entrepreneurial impulses often are perverted and where no prevailing authority seems to have control over anything.

So long as director Andrei Kravchuk stays within the bounds of the orphanage, his movie has plenty of neorealist kick. You can't help but feel for kids who basically must fend for themselves, although Kravchuk resists the temptation to deliver pure Dickensian horror. Some of the older kids help the younger children, and the orphans form bonds that can be sustaining.

At about the midway point, The Italian shifts gears. When the biological mother of a recently adopted boy shows up to reclaim her son, Vanya realizes that his mother might not be dead. Rather than joining the apparently loving Italian couple who very much want to give him a better life, Vanya runs away from the orphanage and attempts to find his biological mother.

Of course, he's chased by representatives of the orphanage, who know that if they renege on their deal, they'll lose money.

Vanya becomes a tiny engine of courage, a kid who simply won't abandon mother love, even if it condemns him to a life of semi-misery. Vanya's adventures on the road can be compelling; he's a spunky 6-year-old who champions the bond that his mother couldn't honor in the first place.

In the end, Kravchuk can't totally avoid a touch of sentiment. And if his movie doesn't entirely forsake its tough-minded observations, it often lacks the rich, soulful quality of other Russian movies about children. Compare it, say, with the far more mysterious and artful The Return.

Still, Vanya's gritty travels propel the movie forward. The Italian runs on the unshakable faith of a very determined boy.