Released in Italian cinemas on 9 October and already enjoying great success, Tre ciotole is based on the novel of the same name by Michela Murgia and stars Alba Rohrwacher and Elio Germano. Cinematography by Guido Michelotti CCS.
Director: Isabel Coixet; screenplay: Isabel Coixet, Enrico Audenino; film editing: Jordi Azategui; production design: Paola Comencini; costumes: Massimo Cantini Parrini; music: Alfonso Vilallonga; cast: Alba Rohrwacher as Marta, Elio Germano as Antonio, Francesco Carril, Galatea Bellugi, Silvia D’Amico, Sarita Choudhury; production: Italy–Spain co-production (including Cattleya, Ruvido Produzioni, Bartlebyfilm); Italian distribution: Vision Distribution.
The film follows Marta and Antonio, a couple in crisis who, after what appears to be a trivial argument, decide to separate. Marta retreats into herself, losing not only her sense of direction but also her appetite, while Antonio, an ambitious chef, throws himself into his work. Marta soon discovers that her loss of appetite is not simply a response to the breakup but the symptom of a serious illness. This turning point transforms the story from one of love and loss into a journey of rebirth and self-discovery. Adapted from Michela Murgia’s novel, published shortly before her death, the film explores themes of bodily fragility, detachment, and inner transformation.
Guido Michelotti CCS told us:
“Tre ciotole was a unique challenge for me, as it was the first time I worked with a director who uses a single camera and operates it herself. Isabel Coixet also has a very clear idea of what the aesthetic and grammatical outcome of her film should be; my role was therefore mainly to support her vision. Isabel is a wonderful person, full of humanity, an artist who, over the course of nearly forty years, has developed her own visual language. I admit that working with her was a little unsettling at first: for instance, she made very specific requests — gels, filters, in-camera lighting effects — all within a creative flow on set that was difficult to plan in advance. Isabel often begins building a scene from close-ups, and only when she feels that the mise-en-scène has become repeatable, mechanical, does she lose interest in filming closely; that’s when she understands what she needs to complete that narrative segment and widens the frame. The film’s preparation lasted only ten days, during which Isabel and I talked about poetry. She gave me books, made me listen to songs; perhaps she offered just one visual reference: Vilhelm Hammershøi, a late 19th-century Danish painter. Her only specific request was to help her create an image of Rome that would not look like a postcard, because, as a foreigner, she felt the risk of yielding to the city’s beauty.”
“I can say, without any false modesty, that in this film Isabel led me into territories unknown to me and brought out something I perhaps didn’t know I had. It was a great privilege to stand by her side.”
