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In the archetypal small Italian town you will find a blend of Arabic script, pairings with Tucson, Arizona, Fast Food and old cafés, a countless number of TV antennas, the war memorial, the arcade and videogames.
Other particularly captivating inventions: two mirror walls which separate by opening like a curtain, to reveal a phantasmagorical discotheque. Immense and disturbing, a cross between a factory plant and an otherworldly atmosphere; the moon snatched from the sky and imprisoned in a shack.
The people gaze upon its silvery luminescence with incredulity, consternation, hope, coming before her as before a divinity, offering their anguished supplications.
But the film has a fairytale charm as well: it has the moon and a well, a Cinderella-like silver slipper, the grandmother and a chimney hood.
And there is the mist, a constant presence in a work which tells a tale of crazed brains, darkened minds which can no longer see, which can no longer distinguish, without a goal and without a memory.
