Since he was a child, Orpheus has imagined stories about an abandoned villa across the street from his house. A solitary and visionary pianist, during an evening at the Polypus — the club where he plays — he meets Eura’s gaze. An unconditional love blossoms between them, but she’s concealing a secret. Then she disappears. One evening, Orpheus sees her enter a small door on Via Saterna, in front of the villa. He follows her. Before the threshold, he encounters the Green Man, an enigmatic figure who seems to know the mysteries of that passageway. Once through the door, Orpheus enters a visionary afterlife, inhabited by creatures such as the Melusines, the Wizard of the Woods, and skeleton parades. In the villa, he meets th Jacket, a guardian devil who takes possession of his body to relive lost memories through music. Then it reveals where Eura is: at the station, departing on a train leaning against his piano. Only a door on the music stand — which will open at 12:00 sharp — can lead her back. Orpheus arrives in time to say goodbye. When he wakes, he finds her ring on in his hand. He returns to the piano and plays for her, knowing that she will live on in his memories, his dreams, his notes.

DIRECTOR'S NOTES:
Orfeo was born from Dino Buzzati’s Poema a fumetti, a work I immediately felt close to in its imagery and evocative power. It became an opportunity for me to blend languages cultivated over time — including artisanal animation, experimental cinema, and optical techniques — into a symbolic and sensorial tale. I wanted to create it by thinking of cinema as a place of dreams, where the viewer embarks on a dreamlike journey. Rather than a traditional narrative, I chose a rhythm that followed the shifting logic of dreams. I shot on 16mm film, in a studio, with handbuilt sets and techniques based on optical illusions. For example, at the end, to make Eura appear as a ghost, I used a 45° glass in front of the camera, reflecting the actress on stage. A tangible effect, designed and shot in live action. For the animations, I used stop motion, animating all the creatures with a 16mm Bolex. In one dance sequence, I used found footage: old Super 8 archive footage of my mother dancing, painstakingly reconstructing the original scene in the studio. Through a playful editing process, I merged the period choreography with that performed by a dance company and the actress, creating a fluid scene, as if it were taking place in the same space. It’s an intimate tribute to my mother, who was a dancer.