Trifole Review | Italian Truffle Hunting & Langhe Beauty | Film Analysis (2025)

Prepare to be whisked away to the breathtaking Langhe region of northern Italy, where the ancient art of truffle hunting takes center stage in the poignant film Trifole. But here’s where it gets emotional: as you fall in love with this idyllic countryside, you’ll also witness the slow disappearance of a way of life, threatened by modernity and time itself. This is a story that tugs at the heartstrings, blending the beauty of tradition with the bittersweet reality of change.

Directed by Gabriele Fabbro, Trifole is a gentle drama that revolves around Igor (Umberto Orsini), an aging truffle hunter, and his restless granddaughter Dalia (Ydalie Turk). While the film’s true star is the majestic landscape of Langhe—a region famed for its farming, cheeses, and wine—the narrative explores themes of family, identity, and the passage of time. And this is the part most people miss: the story isn’t just about truffles; it’s a meditation on the fragility of heritage in the face of globalization and climate change.

Dalia, in her late 20s, reluctantly visits Igor at her mother Marta’s (Margherita Buy) urging. Marta fears Igor’s failing memory may force him to leave his crumbling cottage for a nursing home. The tension between Dalia’s urban life in London and Igor’s rural existence is palpable. Igor, a man deeply rooted in his traditions, is disappointed by Dalia’s detachment from her Italian heritage. She struggles with the language and lacks the instincts for truffle hunting, yet Igor sees through her emotional turmoil—a stalled writing career and a sense of aimlessness. But here’s where it gets controversial: is Dalia’s disconnect from her roots a symptom of a larger generational gap, or a natural evolution in an ever-changing world? The film invites you to ponder this question.

Fabbro and Turk, who co-wrote the screenplay, conducted extensive research, weaving local stories into the narrative. The result is a film that feels both fantastical and deeply authentic. For instance, Igor and his loyal truffle-hunting dog, Birba, are inspired by real figures, and the 2020 documentary The Truffle Hunters echoes many of the film’s themes. Yet, Trifole is more than a tribute to Langhe; it’s a lament for a region imperiled by global warming and industrialization, which threaten the ancient practice of truffle gathering. Igor’s fading memory becomes a metaphor for a vocation losing its connection to the past, even as truffles gain global gastronomic fame.

The film’s early scenes establish a familiar generational conflict between Dalia and Igor, who share a roof but struggle to understand each other. When Dalia praises his farmland, Igor dismisses it, lamenting how the soil has changed since his youth. The stakes rise when Dalia discovers Igor is behind on his mortgage, owing a fortune he can’t pay. His only hope is to find a rare and valuable white truffle, but his frailty prevents him from venturing into the deep woods. Dalia, guided by Birba, must take up the quest—a journey that becomes both literal and metaphorical.

Trifole’s themes are straightforward yet profound. Dalia’s search for the mythical white truffle mirrors her quest for purpose and connection. Igor, wise and weathered, diagnoses her unhappiness: “You don’t love anything. This will end up hurting you a lot.” Through Turk’s nuanced portrayal, Dalia emerges as a character defined by insecurities, making her transformation all the more compelling. Her forest adventure is filled with magical moments, symbolizing her rebirth and newfound appreciation for her grandfather and her heritage.

In his second feature, Fabbro contrasts the quiet grace of Igor’s life with the commercialism of modern truffle auctions. However, the film’s wistful homage to tradition has its limitations. The characters, particularly Igor and Dalia, sometimes feel more like symbols than fully realized individuals. Orsini’s performance is affecting, but Igor’s noble stoicism can feel reductive, as can Dalia’s role as a stand-in for a younger, disconnected generation. But here’s where it gets thought-provoking: does the film’s reliance on symbolism diminish its emotional impact, or does it elevate its message? We’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.