Alberto Barbera

In the great confusion that seems to dominate the film universe as it undergoes unceasing and increasing transformation, one of the few certainties seems to be that the object of our passion no longer presents itself to the eyes of its infatuated viewers in the same guise as before. The certitudes that accompanied and sustained the habits of audiences worldwide for over one hundred years have faltered. Today, movies offer themselves to us in forms and lengths that have very little to do with the traditions that were developed over time: lengths that varied between the canonical ninety and one hundred and twenty minutes; configurations that, with few exceptions, rested on the conventions of the genre (and if you think about it, even so-called art-house films could be considered a genre in their own right). It is as though the movie universe has exploded under the thrust of an unstoppable, expansive force that, having brought to an end a stability that was mistakenly considered immutable, is giving life to a new, oscillating configuration in which different and opposite realities coexist in precarious equilibrium. On the one hand, films are becoming smaller and smaller – short or very short – to adapt to their new containers: no longer the traditional movie theaters, nor household TV screens giving viewers access to the content of streamers. Instead, we have the socials: Instagram, even more so TikTok, and above all YouTube, which recent market surveys indicate as the platform most used by young people and consumers of videos of all types and lengths. This was also indirectly confirmed by a Chinese producer we encountered during one of the many useful exploratory trips we make every year. From his stories, one can deduce that production companies active in Beijing and Hong Kong now make their greatest profits by producing very short films (of limited length and reduced budgets) that are offered on the Internet for pennies to the multitudes of people who, every day, spend long periods of time commuting between home and work with their eyes glued to their cell phone screens. If these micro movies – which will probably never be seen at film festivals – represent the most significant and unexpected novelty in the evolution of the species, at the other end of the transformation spectrum we are witnessing an expansion of the lengths and conventions of traditional narratives. We had already started to become aware of this most recent morphological variation: everyone has noticed that movies are becoming longer and longer, lasting and sometimes exceeding three hours. Examples of this true temporal escalation are increasingly numerous, to the point that we are tempted to say that, rather than mere exceptions (which have always existed: just think of Gone With the Wind and The Longest Day, to name just two), we are witnessing the start of a process that is destined to impose a new film parameter. At this festival, our interest lies less in discussing whether all this is a consequence of the stylistic and narrative influence exerted by TV series, which are massively proposed by streamers and equally massively consumed by household audiences, or whether movie producers are trying to counteract the competition by making desperate recourse to the same weapons. Instead, what interests us is observing how a growing number of filmmakers are letting themselves by tempted – not so much or not only for economic reasons – by the allure that experimentation with a new format offers their creative potential. The program of the 81st Venice Film Festival proposes significant examples of this dual, expansive movement by hosting numerous movies that, to varying degrees, exceed two hours, and by screening four auteur series (by Alfonso Cuarón, Rodrigo Sorogoyen, Thomas Vinterberg, and Joe Wright), which, above and beyond their macroscopic differences in production and content, share a few significant characteristics. First of all, a stylistic and formal approach that is incontrovertibly cinematographic, to the point that their authors affirm (and one can't help but agree with them) that, in each case, they are long or very long movies that have nothing in common with the language or the conventions of TV series. The other significant recurrence is that many of the new auteur series aim at distribution in cinemas, albeit for a limited time, before screening on the platform that is at the origin of their productive genesis. Showing these four series in their entirety (they vary in length from the five and a half hours of Cuarón's series to the eight hours of Sorogoyen's) no doubt represents a challenge for spectators and a gamble for the Venice Film Festival's programming, which in itself offers a plethora of movies. Nonetheless, we feel it was a risk worth taking, in view of the Festival's commitment to indicating - or anticipating - the most significant trends that are taking form in the film universe.

On the other hand, we must stress, yet again, that film festivals do not exist and are not produced inside a physical and temporal bubble, isolated from everything that is happening concurrently in the world. Even though festival-goers experience what often resembles an unorthodox suspension of everyday life (which, instead - and like it or not - is obliged to deal with the macro-events of an increasingly interconnected universe), the very nature of cinema belies the idea of a temporary escape from reality to seek refuge in a parallel universe dominated by creativity and entertainment. On the contrary, cinema has always been a formidable opportunity, in general, to reflect on and mirror the pertinent themes of humanity. In particular, it mirrors the problems of our time; it is a window thrown open onto the endless conflicts, unresolved contradictions, rising clashes, and unexpected tragedies that threaten our ravaged planet. Far from representing an illusory and momentary parenthesis in the continuum of the recurring breaking news that besets our daily lives, cinema offers an opportunity for in-depth analysis and vital, invaluable reflection. The broad themes of contemporary times can be traced back to the frightening explosion of bloody armed conflicts, premonitions of a devastating climatic catastrophe, the emergency of unrelenting migratory phenomena, and the growing diffusion of populist, suprematist, and nationalist movements that challenge the fragile equilibrium of traditional democracies: all these themes can be found in many of the movies in our program. Well aware of the responsibility intrinsic to a cultural event of worldwide importance, the Festival has opted for the reasons behind the confrontation; it introduces different points of view; it doesn't sidestep the polemics that might arise, convinced that the seeds for a possible solution to the conflicts and the most irreducible contrasts that mark our time can only be found in dialectic and discussion.