Who is this “Girl” and what is a “Leica”? That’s the first question that comes to mind before watching Italian writer/director Alina Marazzi’s latest film, “The Girl with the Leica”, translated from “La ragazza con la Leica”, a biographical drama co-written with Valia Santella, another Italian writer/director. It revolves around Gerda Taro, a German-Jewish refugee, political activist, and the first female photojournalist to die in battle at age 26. While actors portray real-life characters in actual historical situations, those portrayals are surprisingly less interesting than the archival footage, video clips, and photographs Marazzi incorporates into the film, which often convey a more convincing, fully realized view of a past most viewers will know nothing about.

Taro is the “Girl” of the title, though we never see her as a girl; still, the term is often used casually as a synonym for “guy” or “dude.” A “Leica” is a high-end German manufacturer of luxury cameras and optical lenses, famous for pioneering 35mm film photography and building precision rangefinders.

The film is set in 1937, when Taro (Emilia Schüle) reinvents herself in Parisian exile with Hungarian-American war photographer Robert Caro (Aaron Altaras) after they both flee Nazi Germany and eventually take an assignment in Spain to cover the civil war. They start as friends out of admiration and eventually develop a romantic relationship, both becoming pioneers of photojournalism. Together, they helped invent modern war photography while fueling the spectator’s vicarious experience by offering an approximation of life in the conflict zone.

Much of the film takes place on one day: July 14th. That’s right before Taro departs for Spain and what would become her final assignment. They spend time with their circle of friends, such as Ruth Cerf (Luna Wedler), Georg Kuritzkes (Lucas Englander), and Willy Chardack (Thomas Schubert), most of whom are like-minded, but not all of them have the same convictions that Taro and Caro have when it comes to getting involved in a war zone. Even though we spend a lot of time with these characters, we don’t really get to know much about them. As a result, it’s hard to stay interested in them, which makes the film a confusing viewing experience.

It’s not a good sign when the documentary-like parts of a biopic end up being what stands out. It makes sense for a film about photographers to include so many photographs, especially in a historical drama, since photographs capture moments in time and make them permanent.

The original photographs and footage connect more strongly to the period than the performances and situations created for “The Girl with the Leica”. The faces in these black-and-white photos, along with the streetscapes and images of war, effectively transport viewers to a specific place and time, reminding us of the human element at play in these environments. I definitely found myself more curious about what was happening during this time in history, specifically the Spanish Civil War, since I don’t know much about it. Of course, I didn’t know much about Taro or Capa, but while watching Marazzi’s film, I couldn’t help but feel that a documentary might’ve been better suited to cover the material.

As for the titular character and her work, the film doesn’t really delve into how she developed a knack for photography. Schüle’s charisma and magnetism ebb and flow throughout the feature; Leica serves as a form of political resistance, but the film never shows how Taro’s talent developed or changed. The film largely assumes her talent rather than showing it fully. The same goes for her relationship with Capa, which could have been a fascinating starting point. Yes, they were in love, but what the film could’ve leaned into was how quickly a woman’s work can disappear behind a more famous man’s. Other artists in relationships have been noted to have this dynamic, where one (usually the man) overshadows the other’s work.

Images of war and its effects have become commonplace at an exponentially fast rate, available instantly. A film like this definitely makes one think about the responsibility of someone documenting such violence, and what our expectations of them are, specifically when their lives are at risk. As the film concludes, Marazzi finds a bit more emotional clarity; knowing Taro’s death is inevitable lends weight to her last-day farewells. Still, one can’t help but wonder who Taro really was, something a documentary might reveal better.

RATING: **

“The Girl with the Leica” premiered last month at the Venice International Film Festival and also screened at the Toronto International Film Festival. This week, it will screen twice at the Chicago International Film Festival (CIFF).