There is another side of the Venice Film Festival, a side that becomes visible at night and only to some. It is out of the folklore of the red carpet, of the little girls camped out on the sidewalk waiting for stars and autographs, of the rush for the movie screenings and of coffee in plastic cups.
I entered into this magically silent world in the middle of so much fuss in an evening dress and with no badge. The usual bodyguards who survey the entrances to the party as if they were CIA agents assigned to the security of President Obama were not there.
It is the first time that Palazzo Tiepolo hosts an event, it dates back to the sixteenth century and is owned by the family Nassi who still live there. The occasion for opening the doors to journalists is the presentation of a short film (which I personally found exciting) named “Picture Perfect” of a young Russian director Irina Izmestieva.
Shot in Kent, among the lavender fields, pubs and terraced houses, it tells of an old man, David, who moved to live near his sister Muriel in the place of their childhood. Here, in a charity market he sees a picture of Gloria, the girl who was his first, and perhaps his only love, who died of pneumonia when she was still young. As the picture of Dorian Gray in reverse, the image changes from day to day, the colours become more vivid, the girl portrayed seems to animate. Picture Perfect tackles the subject of regret, of forgiveness, of youth and old age, the only alternative to death. It is a short film that stays in your mind and eyes.
After several screenings, cocktails and a themed risotto cooked with lavender, the host of the evening Prince Maurice Agosti went behind the console, and as a DJ he kicked off the second part of the night. That, for some - including me - ended at two in the morning, when as a post-modern Cinderella short of princes, I came back to the hotel and I set the alarm clock at 7:15. Returning to the reality in a few hours.
By Simona Coppa.