The film follows the story of Ugo, CEO of a company inherited from his father that has 80 employees, and that of Loris, owner of a small artisan business founded by his grandfather. Two men who experienced the possible failure of their business as a loss of identity capable of putting even family relationships in crisis. Crushed by shame and guilt, they contemplated suicide so much that they turned to the hotline set up to avert extreme gestures by entrepreneurs. Ten years later Loris and Ugo have a new awareness even though they still, in their own way, fight every day to carry on their business. Because, right or wrong, "the job is me."

Director's note

The year 2012 had just passed. Newspapers and the news were bouncing stories of entrepreneurs who had died by suicide, one after the other. We wondered how it was possible that Veneto, one of the regions considered among the most industrious in Italy, a place where the presence of family businesses had built an economic fabric among the richest in Europe, the so-called locomotive of the North-East, was now derailing.
To understand more, starting with the news, we immersed ourselves in field research, going to the Inoltre service, an emergency hotline dedicated to entrepreneurs in crisis who were threatening to commit suicide. For days, we confronted the pool of psychologists who were taking calls for help from entrepreneurs or their families; we delved into the dynamics of people immersed in the darkness of a crisis with no way out. Through the support of Inoltre, we understood how the entrepreneur, finding himself alone and crushed by the weight of the shame of bankruptcy, ultimately decided to end it all. This was the first germ of our film.
Thanks to the relationship of trust that had been established, the team of psychologists introduced us to Ugo and Loris, among many others. Conversations with them took place in the office or between trucks standing in company yards. We were often interrupted by business calls. Amidst a thousand difficulties, they slowly shared with us their most intimate experiences. From the family roots of their business, to their friendship with long-standing employees, from the first signs of the crisis to the human difficulties caused by the destruction of family relationships.
But at that moment, our film also came to an abrupt halt due to a lack of funding. Loris and Ugo were not surprised, in fact they understood only too well what it meant to have no more resources So we said goodbye. However, it was goodbye and not farewell. A goodbye that lasted almost ten years during which we kept in touch with Ugo and Loris.
When we finally returned to them, there was no longer the feeling of discovery of so many years before, but all four of us felt we had something unfinished to complete.
With a small, flexible crew, able to quickly change schedules, we were able to capture their moments of solitude made up of deserted meeting rooms, empty warehouses and lost gazes. Then, the moments, the small gestures, such as the last glance at the security cameras or the last moment of work before turning off the light, closing the company and plunging into those industrial landscapes that Ugo and Loris have as the backdrop to their working life. Here, for this loneliness, we sought slower images and night photography. A space in which we could think back to the words of Ugo and Loris, a time for breathing, to try to understand them a little more.