This film is a very personal account of moments lived by the director with her father. A personal account, yet told with the proper distance, in that cinema is ever-present between father and daughter: as a passion, a life choice, and a way of being in the world. Cinema as a web that underlies the story of their exchanges and creates a space for imagination. “With cinema,” the father says, “you can escape. With your own mind”. Images are sparked by memories and like memories amplify a few notable markers while erasing others. Spare images, where there is hardly anything other than the two of them, and the marker that is present always has something monstrous about it: large things are exceptionally large; distant things are incredibly far; sunbeams are ablaze; nearby things are much too close. As for the movie sets, however, everything is in excess: confusion, urgency, people, noise—and everything here is also amplified. In these sets is the thrill of communal life. The ones featured in the film are those of Pinocchio, built in the middle of nowhere in the barren countryside.

DIRECTOR'S NOTES:
After so many years spent doing the same job as him and trying to be different from him, I wanted to tell how much I owe everything I am to him: I wanted to pay homage to my father, to his way of making movies, to his way of being, to the importance that his work and his commitment had for our cinema, and to the importance that his person had for me. Perhaps, I said to myself, perhaps now I am old enough, I am capable of it, perhaps now I will be up to this story. Perhaps is now time to say thank you.