La parte profonda (second feature)

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La parte profonda

original title:

La parte profonda


Nicolò Maria Capodacqua, Annalaura Mauriello, Mario Battisti









In post-production (28/10/2020)

The story of how the lives of three people can be totally shattered in one evening. Christian, theatre director, has been engaged for seven years to Lucrezia, a talented pianist who, for some reason, has not yet managed to turn her career around. The story takes place between the inside and the outside of Carlo's pub, Christian's best friend since childhood. Despite the fact that Christian and Lucrezia's relationship is now based almost exclusively on habit and routine, and is permeated by inveterate grudges that often come to paroxysm, the two should be married in three months. This evening, however, is no ordinary evening. In fact, the drama opens with Christian who has just told Lucrezia that he has an incurable melanoma and that in a little over a year he will die.
On the other hand, Lucrezia and Carlo would also have something to confess to Christian. About two months earlier, in fact, the two did a terrible thing to his detriment; the sense of guilt is unbearable and the two have decided to confess. But Christian has just told Lucrezia that he has a deadly cancer. How can you tell him?
The paradox, however, is that the emotional and psychological upheavals of the two are linked to their opinion of Christian, an opinion that will prove to be almost totally wrong. No one is only good and no one is only bad; no one is only victim or only executioner. Just when you think you know everything about a person, you realize that you know almost nothing. Fiction mixes with reality in a perpetual and perverse game in which the boundary between truth and lie becomes thinner and thinner, until reaching an unexpected ending.
There is a great sense of incommunicability permeating the entire work.
The three characters, in fact, relating to each other are almost never totally sincere. When they are, sincerity only generates destructive conflicts. Only within their inner monologues they find the freedom to give vent to their most honest thoughts, to the "deep part" of their soul. We can make as much effort as we want to adhere to the roles we are forced to play driven by the dictates of our "Apollonian" part; but our "deep part", "Dionysian", what is perhaps our truly honest and sincere part, will always manage to take over. Even if for a very brief moment.