Interview curated by Maura Morales Bergmann CCS
Editor Silvia Tarquini
I really enjoyed the film. If I’m not mistaken, this is your second film with Francesco Costabile.
Yes, it’s the second film after Una Femmina. We continued this collaboration, as well as the visual grammar we began with that first film. The storyline is somewhat similar. Francesco, on a personal and artistic journey, is exploring violence within the family. This time, the perspective was male rather than female, or rather, in Familia, there’s a dual perspective, both male and female, as we have the mother’s point of view as well as the son’s. In the first film, it was a daughter emancipating herself from a family that kept her emotionally and physically captive. Like Una Femmina, Familia is based on a true story that happened about fifteen years ago. A young man, Luigi Celeste, kills his father to free his mother. However, the father is also part of him; the film shows how the violence endured generates further violence. Celeste joins fascist movements to rediscover a paternal figure—something that makes him feel part of something. He shifts his emotional focus onto something else equally violent. At 20, he ends up in prison for stabbing a classmate during a fight. After his release, he kills his father, who has returned home and continues beating his mother. In a sense, it’s a double homicide—one emotional and one physical. The final scene, the father’s killing, is intentionally suspended. The lighting changes, and there’s a deviation in the direction.
The directing was very clear. Can you say more about your collaboration, your understanding with Francesco? Did you both attend the Centro Sperimentale together?
No, Francesco completed it before me, graduating in 2005. Francesco is a visionary director. Our work always seeks to transform the themes we address. For example—and this particularly interested me—the film includes many scenes of the family at the table. In a normal family, such scenes are convivial, with members sharing various aspects of their lives. In Familia, however, these are precisely the moments when apparent normality can suddenly erupt into violence. We were keen to portray the latent tension among the protagonists. The camera work sought to capture minimal movements, to seize the moment when something begins to collapse. The constant interplay of glances between the father, the son, and the mother. In this family, everyone knows but pretends not to. Except for Gigi—he’s the only one who slowly grows a sense of revenge. Meanwhile, the mother is dependent on that violence — a violence that creates new dependency. To conclude on the themes, it’s worth noting that the film is divided into two parts: 1998 and 2008. The children, who witness violence as youngsters, try in vain to keep it at bay. But it infiltrates their lives and becomes part of them. In an early scene, the children are in a corridor, instructing each other not to enter their parents’ room or speak if there are noises. They are already enslaved to that situation. Francesco and I started with these macro themes before addressing the visual grammar of the film.
Since you mentioned the corridor scene, let me ask: were there specific choices in that scene? Did you use any particular lenses?
Yes, but it was more about the format. I chose to shoot with an ALEXA LF because, for the 1998 sequences, it allowed me to utilise the full sensor, giving less realistic perspectives as that format tends to amplify spaces slightly. Ideally, we wanted to shoot that part in a studio to further enlarge the space and remove walls if needed. Unfortunately, production constraints prevented this. However the aim was to distort the spatial perspective of memory through the wide format. For the 2008 sequences, I used the ALEXA LF in Super 35 format to return to a realistic dimension. For the murder, we returned to the ALEXA LF to emphasise moments suspended between objectivity and emotion.
And what lenses did you use?
I used two sets of lenses: for the 1998 scenes, I used Cooke Panfocus full frame, while for the 2008 scenes, I used Signature Prime lenses. To slightly abstract the table scenes, I also employed Impression filters. I used the positives because, in certain shots, they helped underline that latent tension with a rather minimal approach, but one that gave us the desired effect.
You also used close-focus shots. There were some very close framings of the characters. Did you use Diopter lenses?
Yes, I used Diopter lenses specifically to get very close to the characters with wide-angle lenses, allowing the gaze to stand out while retaining the surrounding environment and atmosphere. The house, the walls, and the settings all return to the characters’ memories. It’s a “domestic” film—not set in large external environments, but inside the house, as the violence takes place within the home. This grammar guided us: we minimised exterior scenes to focus on internal moments and what happens inside the house.
The camera feels very present. Even in the few external scenes, like those involving the fascists and the chase, they seem very confined and claustrophobic.
Yes, because Gigi, in choosing to join that movement, creates yet another trap around himself. The leader figure keeps him captive, like a puppeteer. That too is a form of slavery, one he tries to escape over time.
Does the girlfriend’s character act as the key for him to realise he’s heading in his father’s direction?
Exactly. The girlfriend is the “good angel,” a figure who leads him toward discovering his inner self and detaching from his traumatic affiliation. Like Una Femmina, Familia also deals with trauma.
As a South American, I’d say our family’s and ancestors’ mistakes and patterns tend to repeat.
Yes, it’s something that either gets broken or continues to condition us forever. The film aims to be a social one, leaving a mark and triggering reflection. It seeks to foster awareness that it is possible to escape from slavery.
Did you operate the camera yourself, or did you have a camera operator?
I had a camera operator. I shot many scenes myself because I felt they were very personal. However, I had great support from Arturo Bernardi, a skilled operator who could translate Francesco’s and my ideas into the camera work.
Was it just one camera?
Yes, old-school, just one camera.
Let’s talk about the lighting in this film.
Again, we have two different parts: 1998 and 2008. For 1998, I used a single-colour palette to convey this family’s belonging to the same house, as if there was no way to escape. In the second part, I used cooler colours with more contrast in the set design and costumes to give a greater sense of openness. I employed two different LUTs for 1998 and 2008 to slightly distinguish these two moments—not as though they were different eras like the 1600s and 1800s, but I needed some differentiation. The first part is undoubtedly warmer, more “infernal,” with recurring nightmare hues of red, yellow, and orange. The second part has a marked photographic shift, moving towards cooler tones. The skin-house scene marks the boundary between the end of the first part and the beginning of the second. In the second part, sunlight begins to enter the house slightly, giving a bit of breathing space until the father returns, plunging the atmosphere into darkness once again. These were the fundamental guidelines for the lighting.
There’s a clear photographic shift when he’s suddenly seen dancing in that blue environment. I liked how you described that place minimally—with a few strokes, strong lighting, and a close-up that says it all.
The photographic idea was to create a strong break, so I kept Gigi, as an adult, almost at the brink of overexposure. I liked the idea of presenting him as a “monster,” in a way: from an innocent child, he becomes someone with an arm raised in CasaPound, with all that implies in belonging to a far-right movement. I wanted to depict him this way to underscore his transition to a moment of awareness.
Did you work with a DIT, a camera operator, and your usual crew, or were there new team members?
It was my usual team, including a DIT. We worked very lightly to avoid overburdening the set. We conducted numerous photographic tests so that the LUT would align closely with what I envisioned. This way, we avoided excessive corrections on set or a complex workflow requiring extensive data management. The DIT was Stefano Massa, who is highly skilled and an excellent collaborator. Fundamentally, I wanted the setup for this film to be as lightweight as possible, and the testing phase allowed this approach to work effectively. I believe this phase is where the film truly takes shape.
Where did you shoot? In Rome?
Yes, everything was shot in Rome. Tufello and Quartaccio were the main neighbourhoods.
Are you Roman? And Francesco?
Yes, I’m Roman—at least, I was born in Rome. But my parents aren’t Roman, and I don’t feel particularly Roman. Francesco is Calabrian.
Can you comment on your relationship with the actors? In a film like this, I imagine it’s crucial.
I already knew Barbara Ronchi from previous films and was aware of her precision. I didn’t know Francesco Di Leva personally, but we’re talking about great actors who get straight to the point. The real discovery was Francesco Gheghi, the young man, who’s only about 23 or 24. He arrived on set with a type of anger I didn’t understand at first. After a few days, I realised he was so deeply immersed in his character that he couldn’t abandon that kind of surliness. After filming, we became very close friends, and I discovered a completely different person—relaxed, sunny, and serene. But during the shoot, Francesco maintained continuous tension and anger for all seven weeks, even off-camera. I think this added a lot to the film, so much so that he won the Best Male Performance award in the Orizzonti section at the Venice Film Festival.
Was the murder scene filmed at the end, or was it placed earlier in the schedule?
We filmed it at the end. It was cathartic.
Which rental company did you use?
The rental company was D-Vision, and I have to thank Massimo Proietti. Together, we made choices that, looking back, seem spot on. We experimented with the idea of an external shutter. For instance, if you look at the more “transfigured” scenes, such as the mother in front of the television, Gigi before the murder, or Gigi seeing his younger brother again, you might notice a slight vignette effect within the image. We achieved this with an external shutter created using 3D printing. Francesco was thrilled with this effect, as it subtly highlighted the moments on the edge of dream and reality. This was all possible thanks to Massimo Proietti and his advice.
And for the colour grading, whom did you work with?
I did the colour grading with Claudio Del Bravo. It was the first time I worked with him. I had done the previous film, Una Femmina, at Frame by Frame as well, but with a different colourist. This time, it was Claudio, and I must say, I was very satisfied. He was excellent with the LUTs and followed his meticulous approach to the work with great refinement.
I gather you’re of the “Rotunno school”—doing as much as possible on set.
When possible, yes. You’ve studied with Rotunno too, so you know: the more you do on set, the better it is later.
How was the shooting schedule in terms of timing?
We shot the film in seven weeks — neither too rushed nor too relaxed—working on about two or three pages of the script per day. Of course, shooting with just one camera meant moving a bit faster. But it was a film grammatically designed for a single camera, focused heavily on the actors and the situations. Adding a second camera might have taken us off track.
You can feel it was shot with one camera because it always stays with the character. There’s no shot-reverse shot; you sense it was constructed around one camera. It’s refreshing to return to that approach when possible.
Only two scenes were shot with two cameras: the one in the pub and the one in the skin-house.
Thank you, Giuseppe.
