Interview by Silvia Tarquini
Primavera, Damiano Michieletto’s first feature film—he is best known for his work in opera—is freely adapted from the novel Stabat Mater. by Tiziano Scarpa and set in early eighteenth-century Venice. It revolves around the figure of a young musician raised within the Ospedale della Pietà. Filming took place between Rome and Venice from late 2024 to early 2025, using historic locations and reconstructed sets. The screenplay was written by Michieletto himself together with Ludovica Rampoldi, with production by Indigo Film and Warner Bros. Entertainment Italia, in co-production with the French company Moana Films. Tecla Insolia plays the lead, alongside Michele Riondino as Antonio Vivaldi. The cast is completed by Andrea Pennacchi, Fabrizia Sacchi, Valentina Bellè and Stefano Accorsi. Daria D’Antonio, CCS, constructs the film’s visual approach by working with natural light and a palette consistent with the historical setting, in dialogue with the production design and costumes. Editing is by Walter Fasano, production design by Gaspare De Pascali, costumes by Maria Rita Barbera and Gaia Calderone. The original music is by Fabio Massimo Capogrosso, in collaboration with Teatro La Fenice. Primavera premiered on 6 September 2025 at the Toronto International Film Festival and is released in Italian cinemas on 25 December.
Primavera It is Damiano Michieletto’s feature film debut, a director with a long and distinguished career in opera. What was the meeting point between his theatrical experience and your seasoned perspective as a cinematographer?
Michieletto is a kind, curious and intelligent person. He approached cinema with great respect for a medium that, unlike theatre, he had not yet explored. He had already worked with audiovisual language, but in the context of a television opera, Gianni Schicchi (2021), shot by Alessandro Chiodo, CCS. For Primavera he was driven by strong curiosity and a very sincere attitude of listening.
The film has a classical structure and is based on a solid screenplay, with the aim of telling a story of growth and self-discovery through music. The protagonist is a young orphan played by Tecla Insolia, a talented and highly interesting actress also from a photographic point of view: she has an extraordinary face and a natural magnetism in front of the camera.
On my part, as always, I tried to listen closely in order to reach the deeper meaning of the story—a story in which music is central and brings the character of Vivaldi and that of the young orphan together on an unpredictable artistic plane. The film does not, in fact, slip into a more conventional sentimental relationship; rather, it is a profound artistic bond, and this is what makes it so interesting. For him, she represents a creative mirror, a source of enthusiasm and energy thanks to her natural, instinctive talent. For her, he is the opportunity to recognise and understand her own abilities and to see them from a new perspective of social affirmation and fulfilment.
Choices that seem inevitable—because they are dictated by the era, by social expectations, and by the girl’s condition—undergo a small yet momentous revolution of intention and destiny. A possibility that applies to all places and all times.
Had you worked on a period film before? Which aspects of the setting inspired your cinematography?
No, I had never tackled a period film set before the mid twentieth century, and for this very reason Primavera was a particularly stimulating project for me. The research process focused on the painting of the period was fundamental, and Pietro Longhi was an important point of reference.
above all because of its surprising modernity. For me it was essential to convey the sense of claustrophobia of the place in which the orphaned girls live, together with the lack of perspective that surrounds them. I was interested in working on a sensory level, trying to understand what it might have meant to live in those years, when light came exclusively from candles and there was no public lighting. I imagine that darkness also carried with it mystery and fear when moving about—sensations we tried to suggest, even though the film contains only one night-time exterior scene.
With the actors, and with Tecla in particular, we talked a great deal about what it meant to see and to perceive in the dark. I chose to work with very little light, so that her movements at night would convey the feeling of doing things in secret and under conditions of real difficulty. It was a complex balance, because such a reduced lighting setup still has to allow the actors to be seen. But it was important that their experience was consistent with the lighting conditions being depicted: pretending not to see in a space that is in fact clearly readable would have created an unnatural distance from the story. It is something I tried to do, and it was stimulating and, in a way, even fun.
You mentioned that there is only one night-time exterior scene. Could you tell us in more detail about this exploration of darkness in the interiors, and the situations in which it was particularly important?
There is a night-time scene in which she enters a place to look for certain things, and there I chose to work at the very minimum limit of light: Tecla lights her way exclusively with a candle. Even in the scenes where, at night, she takes refuge in a chapel and writes letters to the mother she never knew, the light is reduced to the bare minimum needed to read and write.
Would you like to tell us about any other aspects of working with the actors? Or, more generally, about the collaboration with the other departments on set. You must certainly have worked in close harmony with the production design and costume departments. What were your shared reference points in approaching the eighteenth century?
The film works extensively with faces, the result of particularly careful casting, and with essential, pared-back costumes and sets, in line with the shared vision developed with Damiano. The production design by Gaspare De Pascalis and the costumes by Maria Rita Barbera and Gaia Calderoni grew out of a strong process of collaboration. We carried out many tests, also because I chose a LUT that slightly desaturated the colours without completely altering them. It was interesting, for example, to find the right shade of red for certain garments—a red that would truly do justice to the fabrics. The preparatory work was fundamental.
I rewatched the film recently, after some time had passed, and I think many interesting elements come through. The editing is also important. It was a project strongly supported by Francesca Cima, who believed in the film and has great respect for Damiano. It was a close-knit working group and an extremely positive experience.
Music is the film’s driving force. How did Damiano Michieletto guide you? How did he bring music onto the set, considering that music is, by definition, continuity, whereas cinema works through individual shots, movements, and reconstruction?
There was no specific work on a visual translation of the music, even though the film is permeated by it for much of its duration. Personally, I listened to a great deal of Vivaldi’s music—much of his body of work—to immerse myself in his world. On set we gradually entered that dimension through rehearsals.
There are several concert scenes, and one particularly complex sequence: the girls’ first performance of Vivaldi’s music, when he has them play a score different from what they are used to. It is an intricate scene, with instruments falling because they are unable to keep the rhythm, and with a chaotic energy that needed to feel believable. We did many rehearsals with the actresses: some were musicians, others actresses with musical training, who practised a great deal. Tecla, who is also a singer and has a musical background, worked intensively on the violin and was very good at making the gestures and movements credible.
The rehearsals were essential in entering the collective dimension of sound—especially that of an orchestra made up largely of string instruments—and in perceiving music as a shared experience. The camera work helped me greatly. I was operating the camera, as I always do, with an operator beside me, Paolo Cafiero, who was my assistant and has since become an excellent professional: we helped each other understand where to go and how to move. The camera movements became almost a dance—sensual, deeply connected to the music—with a physical and sensory approach.
How many cameras did you use to shoot the concert scenes? And what kind of shooting language did you choose?
We worked with two cameras. Handheld camera work is used very little, virtually not at all: for a few days we had Matteo Carlesimo on Steadicam, but only for a specific scene and in a single location. We worked a great deal with dollies, sliders and fluid movements. It is a dancing film, even in the way it is visually constructed, but always within a classical framework, including from a compositional point of view. There are no extreme choices or virtuoso flourishes.
Avevi già girato a Venezia? Vuoi dire qualcosa sull’incredibile luce veneziana?
I worked in Venice very early on in my career. My first film there was Bread and Tulips in 1999, with Luca Bigazzi, where I worked as camera assistant, focus puller and video assist. Later I returned to Venice again with Luca and Carlo Mazzacurati for the documentary Sei Venezia. I then shot some scenes of Youth there, as well as parts of The Young Pope, over the years. It is a city Paolo Sorrentino often returns to. Venice is always deeply striking: it is a suspended, unique city. While I was reading the screenplay, I constantly imagined the atmosphere of Primavera with Venetian exteriors shrouded in fog, under a grey sky, with boats in the lagoon—an image that was very much mental. Instead, when we shot the exteriors we found the only incredible week of sunshine, even though it was November, and it was objectively wonderful. On the one hand, this was a good thing, because with the limited time available it would have been complicated to manage boat travel in difficult weather conditions.
On the other hand, that bright atmosphere was far removed from what I had imagined, so I reflected on this gap between my expectations and reality. It is also worth saying that it was complex to conceive the interiors without knowing exactly what would happen in the exteriors: I tried not to make overly rigid choices. In the preparation phase you do not work only on what you like, but also on what will be consistent with what you will actually encounter on set. From this point of view, the film was important for me as an exercise in planning too, because many decisions about the interiors were influenced by the exteriors.
However much one thinks, imagines and plans, there are always unforeseen elements that force you to find different solutions. It is essential to design carefully, but it is just as important to know how to be surprised by the unexpected and to face it with the same enthusiasm.
Perhaps also because of Ludovica Rampoldi’s involvement in the screenplay, the film is very much in tune with the current focus on the difficulties women face in achieving social recognition—difficulties that are particularly acute in the field of cinematography, and to which you have always shown great sensitivity. Did the film offer you any new insights in this regard?
Beyond the question of gender, which is obviously strong and central to the film, I believe that the heart of Primavera speaks above all about passion and determination. They are two fundamental tools for recognising oneself and for living in the most authentic way possible. First of all, you have to discover your own passion, to understand it—and that is not at all simple. Then you have to follow it with commitment and study, with the awareness that there are always new things to learn and to discover.
a deep inner drive, a passion that leads you to do things with love, determination, seriousness and dedication. It was a very powerful feeling. I am convinced that passion truly is a balm, capable of soothing many wounds. Moreover, this film came at a time that was not easy for me, and, as often happens, work supported me. Fully immersing myself in a project, in a different world, also helps me to live what surrounds me more fully. I feel a deep sense of gratitude: it was an important challenge, but also an experience that gave me a great deal, both humanly and professionally.
TECHNICAL DETAILS
camera: Sony Venice 2
5.8 k 17:9 S35
Aspect ratio 1.85:1
Lenses: Zeiss ultra prime t1.3
Zoom Angenieux
1 Ronin2
1 camera ass A: Alessio Galasso
2 camera ass A: Tonia Forte
Video Assistant: Libera Balzamo
Gaffer: Fabio Policastro
Key grip: Cristiano Biagioli
Second camera: Paolo Cafiero
Ass Cam B: Claudio Marsili, Filomena Montesano
Camera B Assistant: Simone Sadocco
DIT: Marco Palmieri
Rental camera grips and lights: DVision
Colorist: Andrea Orsini
Lab: Flat Parioli
