This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.
Privacy Overview
Strictly Necessary Cookies
Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.
If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.
3rd Party Cookies
This website uses Google Analytics to collect anonymous information such as the number of visitors to the site, and the most popular pages.
Keeping this cookie enabled helps us to improve our website.
Please enable Strictly Necessary Cookies first so that we can save your preferences!
Director's Statement
IL COMPLEANNO DI ENRICO is a film about memory and how we remember things. The events in the film are autobiographical and I tried to film them faithfully. However, I realised that the only way to do this was to stage those particular distortions typical of memories: the accentuation of seemingly unimportant details, the landscapes and places filtered through emotion, a certain perturbing atmosphere that is not subject to the laws of logic. It is a film about being a child, about fascination at other people's homes, about strict fathers and alcoholic fathers, about grandmothers who disappear into the woods and mothers who have to scream to be heard. Shooting this film was for me like finding an old elementary school notebook or reading a postcard from a bygone era, caught in a moment of transition: the last days of the millennium, between the end of the war in Yugoslavia and the beginning of a world of terror and uncertainty symbolized, in the story, by the Millennium Bug. To tell the story, I chose to point the camera, once again, at the landscape of my native country, a place at once familiar to me and charged with horror.