Interview by Massimo Intoppa CCS
This interview, presented here in written form, is part of the Casa Chiaroscuro project for the Festa del Cinema di Roma, curated by Alessandro Chiodo CCS, coordinated by Massimo Intoppa CCS, and realised with the support of Nikon Italia, Fowa and Red Digital Cinema.
Following its premiere at the Festa del Cinema di Roma, Elena del Ghetto, directed by Stefano Casertano and starring Micaela Ramazzotti, is now being released in cinemas, featuring your cinematography. In the current historical moment, how much has the political context — particularly what has happened and is happening in Gaza — influenced the telling of a story connected to Nazism and the persecution of the Jews?
There was strong involvement from the Jewish community of Rome in this film. I myself come from a Jewish family and I feel the need to clearly distinguish between Judaism, Israeli identity and Zionism, which for me are profoundly different things. This film resonated with my desire to confront the past of my family and of an entire people. As a Chilean, I often quote a phrase repeated in my country after the dictatorship: ‘un pueblo sin memoria es un pueblo sin futuro’ — a people without memory is a people without a future. What I see today deeply troubles me and leads me to feel unequivocally on the side of a free Palestine. Making this film now, I believe, is important in order to remember the horrors of the past and, precisely for that reason, to prevent history — as Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel suggested — from continuing to repeat itself. That said, on set we focussed primarily on Elena’s story as a historical figure, as a woman, and on her revolutionary strength. We followed the events that actually took place without superimposing direct reflections on current affairs.
Elena is a surprisingly modern figure, very emancipated for her time, and the issues she faces still resonate today.
Elena was not a deeply religious woman or someone defined by a clear ideology. She was simply part of her community, of the place where she lived, and she was anti-fascist: that was her way of being in the world. Rather than religious militancy, the film portrays an ethical and civic stance. She is, above all, a strong and courageous woman. Many people saw her as ‘mad’, as often happens to us women when we do something that is not expected within the culture we belong to. I became attached to this story for that very reason, recognising in Elena the same kind of courageous choices I had to make 25 years ago when I entered the world of cinematography, which at the time was predominantly male.
What was your relationship with the director like, considering that you are also a director as well as a cinematographer?
Stefano is my contemporary and an author with an already multifaceted career spanning virtual reality, short films and documentaries. He is a great cinephile and we spoke a lot about reference films, especially Italian Neorealism. He had in mind a film shaped by that influence, and I also drew on the work of my mentor, Giuseppe Rotunno, looking in particular at Amarcord and Roma, especially for their treatment of night scenes. Our rule was clear: always stay with Elena, a sort of mantra — ‘stay with her’. We shot with a single camera, handheld, to remain close to her, often just behind her, moving around the scene but constantly anchored to her point of view.
From a visual point of view, night scenes play a very strong role in the film. Was it also a complex project from a production standpoint?
It was not an easy shoot. It was a first feature with a limited budget, despite being a period film. We shot over five weeks, between Tivoli and Rome. When I first read the script, I immediately thought of Roma città aperta and of an almost black-and-white visual world, but I later chose to avoid overly explicit references. Together with the director, we decided to work on a very subtle chromatic progression: the film begins with slightly more saturated colour and gradually becomes more desaturated as the story unfolds. It is an almost imperceptible transition, accompanying the years from 1938 to 1943, leading to a finale that I would have liked in black and white but that we ultimately left with just a faint veil of colour.
What choices did you make regarding camera, lighting and lenses?
At first we planned to shoot with an ARRI ALEXA Mini, but during location scouting I realised I needed a more sensitive sensor, especially for the night scenes. Since we couldn’t afford an ARRI ALEXA 35, I managed to secure an ARRI ALEXA LF, which proved essential. We often shot at 1600 ISO and, with the constant rain, backlight was indispensable to make it visible. In some squares there was no room for a crane, so we carefully studied the terraces and, with a single 4K unit, we were able to light entire areas. For the first time I didn’t use gels, aiming instead for a look closer to tungsten — a more silvery, less saturated night blue, far removed from the hyper-coloured nights so common today.
And what about the lenses?
I was looking for vintage lenses. We tested several options, but in the end we chose Masterbuilt lenses, which I had never used before. They won me over because of their wide aperture and a softness that allowed me to avoid diffusion filters. This was a film that called for low definition, especially on faces. The Masterbuilts have a gentle texture that helped me recreate a period look. I worked with very little light — there is a great deal of chiaroscuro and strong contrast. It was winter, and in the narrow streets of Tivoli daylight faded very early. The biggest challenge was recreating light during the curfew, both indoors and outdoors. I couldn’t use street lamps, nor could I light houses through the windows — at the time everything was covered and sealed to prevent any light from being seen outside.
What fascinates you most about vintage lenses?
It always depends on the project, but in general I love both chromatic aberrations and more purely optical ones. I come from a background in film, and the excessive sharpness of digital often bothers me, especially when it makes skin details obsessively visible. Modern lenses are frequently too perfect — our eyes are not used to that level of precision. It’s also a generational matter: those who grew up with digital and with mobile phones have a different relationship with sharpness. I continue to seek images that are softer, more imperfect, more human.
