Voglio dormire con te

Born of insomnia, itself born of a recent break-up, Voglio dormire con te has found its own singular form and tone— halfway between allusion and murmur— to address what is most often inevitably overdramatized on screen: the disaffection of a couple or perhaps not even that, rather the current precariousness of being in love, and the uncertainty today of still loving tomorrow. Like those languages that have a present progressive tense, the sequences segue into each other to the point that the chaining arouses a cautious concern for the narrative’s future. “One day, I separated our belongings”… Mattia Colombo’s sharp eye is drawn as much by the intimacy between two people as by the objects in their daily life. From these he extracts a metaphoric force—as with the engraving of ibexes head-to-head in the bedroom of “Bambi” and his ex-girlfriend, who is packing her boxes. And then the instructions of Steve, a tango teacher: “the man’s hand must firmly set the boundaries of space”. Tender irony has the filmmaker’s mother—nonplussed by not having been introduced to “someone final, official”—tackle the metaphor head on: love seems to be a “backpack” that you can change but which should hold both “joy and family”… At times, the filmmaker rubs up against other people’s loves. Sometimes, he probes a newly encountered lover face to face – until what he opens up in this intimacy is returned. (Charlotte Garson)