A woman reads tarot cards; the survivor of the "Circeo Massacre," one of the most brutal kidnappings and rapes in Italian crime history, answers a journalist's questions; a woman accused of murdering four people is questioned by magistrates; a woman talks about her relationship with death, while another seeks an answer to violence in religious practice.
These voices bring out, in different ways, the relationship with life through the discourse on death.
DIRECTOR'S NOTES
The color film images show familiar natural landscapes, from the sea to the hills, semi-abandoned suburban areas, and the interiors of a house. They form, in a single flow, a sort of diary of notes and seem to suggest a wandering outside of time, into emptiness and loss, a memory of something that once was and is no more. The images, like a long interference, stand in stark contrast to the soundtrack, which attempts to piece together fragments of stories, sometimes raw and sometimes intimate, as if the mere act of listening could be an intrusion. The film comes to life from the tension between the images and the voices, between an almost familiar connection to spaces, strengthened by the use of 16mm and Super 8 film, and the dark scenarios the voices seek to embody. The fragments of voices construct a single monologue that becomes the mirror of my own anxieties: the emptiness, the fear of death, error, the doubt that weighs on those who discuss innocence and guilt. "What is justice, really?" the fortune teller asks herself and me at the end of her reading. This question remains unanswered, suspended in the present.
