The Last Prosecco (first feature)

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The Last Prosecco (Finché c'è prosecco c'è speranza)

The Last Prosecco (Finché c'è prosecco c'è speranza)

original title:

Finché c'è prosecco c'è speranza

directed by:


Antonio Padovan, Fulvio Ervas, Marco Pettenello, from the novel "Finchè c’è Prosecco c’è speranza" by Fulvio Ervas


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The story unravels on the rolling hills where Prosecco grapes are grown; a winemaker Count, fighting to protect his territory, a half Italian half Persian police inspector who is more stubborn than a thick fog; the manager of a cement plant who on a rainy night falls in the mud forever, killed by three gunshots; and a crazy man who scrapes the rust from the tombs in the cemetery, chating blessings. A thriller that tells us about the lure of the land, the effervescence of bubbles, the conflict between greed and respect.
A story about the inheritance of beauty and the value of quality.

Ten years in New York. Almost a third of my life. Then one day I happen to read a book, a story. It enthralls me, like those autumn mornings that seem to be forgotten scraps of summer. And I’m taken back home.
I go back to observe my hills, where my roots are. Where the trendiest wine of the moment is produced. This time, however, I do it with an outsider’s look, differently: the look of a police inspector, half Venetian, half Persian. A story that becomes a magnifying glass on a little-explored reality of Italian cinema. An investigation rich in comedy and reasoning, about the future we want. An anthem to going slowly, relishing life, understanding it and living it fully. This film, through the thriler genre and using Prosecco as a pretext, cleverly tells the story of a world without stereotypes and commonplacein a new and original way. Real locations, romanticized, enhanced by a flattering, cinematoghaphic, cherishing photography. Beauty, in contrast with behaviors that are often cynical and ruthless, portrayed truthfully, honestly, almost as a documentary. Themes that I really care about: the relationship between generations, travel,diversity.
Love, but not the banal type. The value of beauty, but without presumption. A love letter to a territory tangled up in progress and tradition, excellence and shame. A sincere letter. Written with my heart in my hand.