SMALLER and tighter is better for Bernardo Bertolucci, the Italian director of such gassy epics as “Little Buddha” and the languorous Tuscan indulgence “Stealing Beauty.” Coming in at just over 90 minutes, “Besieged” is the sharpest and most focused work he’s done in years.

It’s also the most formally audacious. Made originally for Italian television, “Besieged” will be more cherished by art-film enthusiasts than by the general public. That’s because Bertolucci tells the story primarily with deeply poetic images (alluringly photographed by Fabio Cianchetti), using a bare minimum of dialogue.

It is not another of Bertolucci’s lushly detailed visual banquets. Indeed, “Besieged” is lovely but downright austere compared with “Stealing Beauty.” It’s that the delicate emotional complexities in the narrative are conveyed almost entirely with pictures. “Besieged” is unusually demanding, but also surprisingly rewarding.

The story begins in an unnamed African country, with a dissident schoolteacher being hauled away by soldiers as his wife, Shandurai (Thandie Newton), watches in stark terror.

Jump to Rome, where Shandurai has come to enter medical school. She pays her rent by serving as housekeeper in the luxurious town house of Mr. Kinsky (David Thewlis), a rarefied English aesthete who lives on the top floor.

While Shandurai scrubs in the shadows of this desolate dwelling, the aristocratic loner plays classical music on his piano. Wasting away in his aerie, he hears the Afro-pop beats coming from her tiny first-floor apartment and is mesmerized.

Kinsky sends her gifts, which she refuses. One day, overcome with passion, he declares himself in a mad clutch.

“If you love me,” she spits, tearing away, “then get my husband out of prison.”

Poor Kinsky had no idea she was married, and he withdraws. Slowly, however, art objects begin disappearing from his apartment. A wary Shandurai can only guess what he’s up to. Their story spirals upward to a powerhouse, O. Henry-like conclusion, abruptly showcasing the terrible beauty of sacrificial love.

A film like this, with very few spoken words, puts enormous responsibilities on its actors. Newton and Thewlis are up to the task. While a more conventional storytelling style would likely have given the viewer more emotional satisfaction (Newton and Thewlis are so fascinating they make us want to know more about them), Bertolucci shows us how elegantly expressive silence can be.