Salvatore Mereu, from the novel by Giulio Angioni with the same title
festivals & awards:
Soaked to the skin, Costantino sinks into the haystack like old timber left on the shore by a stormy sea. Torrential rain has just put out the fire that in a single night ravaged Assandira, a farmstay deep in the woods of Sardinia. But the rain hasn’t quenched the pain, the endless remorse for the son lost to the flames, the son he was unable to save. The first to arrive are the carabinieri and the young investigating magistrate: Costantino tries to tell them what happened the previous night, to explain how it all began...
On reading Assandira I initially felt a sensation of frustration and indignation regarding the depiction of the world I belong to, rural Sardinia, massacred by the tourist industry, by the idea that it is possible to override anything in the name of easy money, even people’s dignity. But this is just the outer aspect in Assandira. A hidden part which may refer to our private self is never missing within a story, and more than we are willing to admit. Assandira is an itinerary within an understanding of human nature, an attempt to explore the most hidden, silent feelings, which nevertheless end up by moving things and people even when kept at bay.