If you have a Google Alert set up for the words "Russian adoption", chances are you've been getting a lot of items about a movie called The Italian. I'm not going to be seeing it, and I thought I'd take a minute to explain why.

It's not distance, though the closest theater now showing it is 14 miles and a stiff toll from my house. The Italian , or Italianetz as it was known when first released in 2005, is an art house movie and I do not live in an art cinema town. But I travel for culture and I love independent movies.

It's not language, though the movie, despite its name, is in Russian with English subtitles. After three trips to Russia for two separate adoptions, I can follow along fairly well.

It's the subject matter. The Italian is the story of a young boy living in a Russian orphanage who is earmarked for adoption by an Italian family. You guessed it, a squalid orphanage, full of latter-day Mr. Bumbles (the original, scheming Dickensian incarnation, not the muddy-headed bumbler in the 1968 movie Oliver). And yes, the promoters say The Italian is based on a true story.

The acting, led by Kolya Spiridinov who plays the young boy, is getting raves, and so are the direction and cinematography, with several reviewers praising how "real" the movie is. And my aversion to seeing the movie is not shared by all those considering Russian adoption: You can read a different viewpoint at A Special Family.

I am not naïve enough to believe that there are, or were, no bad orphanages in Russia and no corrupt adoption brokers. But having spent time in three real orphanages, I'd hate to see this movie be taken for the experience of all Russian orphans. And for more prospective America parents to decide against adoption there as a result.

My sons lived in buildings that would be termed sorely in need of repair were they in America (if you are in commercial real estate, think class C buildings). But those structures were not much different from those that many non-orphaned, non-millionaire Russians live in: crumbling plaster, unreliable heat, patchy electricity. Inside, my sons' orphanages had rudimentary furniture, but the floors were clean and the rooms were tidy. Most of all however, my sons were cared for by loving, nurturing women who shed real tears when they left.

I don't mean this to be a protest post. But if you are in the process of adopting from Russia now, you can bet that some well-meaning relative or co-worker will say to you, "How could you choose Russia? Didn't you see the movie?" I hope that those of you who have been to Russia recently can take a moment to describe what your real orphanages were like.