“There was this great doctor who stitched me up with such gentle accuracy.” Catholicism and mental distress are entwined in the mother’s life. The grainy 16mm material shows scratches, other, physical scars are mentioned in voice-over. In this resistant miniature, respect for decisiveness triumphs over criticism of moral judgement. A few images, a giggle and a song sung together suffice to achieve this. References remain open, the ambivalence arising between the black-and-white images of interiors, medicinal and devotional arrangements, between on and off, is allowed to stand. Even in the bible there are people who have lost the strength to live. At the end, lotion has softened the skin, and images, text and singing are gently stitched together.

Rosa lived and worked in Germany for more than three decades and used her hard-earned money to build a house at home, in southern Italy. It was originally intended as security for the whole family, but they stayed in Germany when Rosa moved there in the late 1990s. Ever since her husband died, she has been running a two-floor bed and breakfast there on her own which has seen better days. Her daily routines are marked by hardship and disappointment: The drudgery is not getting easier with age, cleaners are hard to find, the region is in decline. Rosa is in a bad mood, complains silently, and argues loudly with her brother who lives next door. The family are far away and connections are often poor. Only her regular trips to the nearby sea, which is beautiful even in winter, make her happy. What to do with a legacy that nobody wants?
“Nonna” is a tribute to his grandmother by her filmmaker grandson that captures people, places and times with precision and subtle humour, portraying a life journey between two homelands that did not work out as imagined.