original title:
Tutti giù per terra
directed by:
cast:
Cinzia Scaglione, Beatrice Stella, Tommaso Ragno, Andrea Bonella, Dalila Aprile, Maria Rosaria Russo, Rocco Ruslan Turcan, Giuseppe Francesco Capitolino, Marica Roberto
screenplay:
cinematography:
editing:
set design:
costume design:
Sara Butera, Martina Schiavoni
music:
M Side
production:
country:
Italy
year:
2025
film run:
19'
format:
colour
status:
Ready (01/10/2025)
festivals & awards:
After surviving a childhood marked by violence and a sexual assault as an adult, Viola must confront the weight of memory and a justice system unable to offer healing.
Tutti Giù per Terra is an intense psychological drama that delves into the enduring impact of trauma and gender-based violence. The film follows Viola, a woman scarred by a brutal childhood bullying incident and a sexual assault she endured as an adult.
The narrative moves fluidly between past and present: young Viola, humiliated and abused by a group of boys; and adult Viola, recounting her recent assault to Alberto, a police officer who wants to help but is himself powerless within a broken system.
Blending stark realism with dreamlike memory sequences, the film uses symbolic imagery to explore pain, memory, and the pervasive culture of domination. At its core, Tutti Giù per Terra is a reflection on the limits of justice and the impossibility of truly overcoming trauma. Yet amidst the darkness, it leaves space for a fragile, suspended hope.
DIRECTOR’S NOTES:
With We All Fall Down, I come back to directing a short film to explore how violence—especially gender-based violence—carves itself into the body and memory, becoming an invisible but ever-present force. Viola’s story is not only about trauma, but about the impossibility of escaping it, and the silent complicity of a system that too often fails to listen, protect, or understand.
The film moves between realism and dream, present and past, because that’s how trauma works—it distorts time, it confuses reality, it traps you in repetition. But even in the darkest places, I believe cinema can make space for something tender: not redemption, perhaps, but resistance. Not closure, but the fragile beginning of a voice reclaiming its own story.