An airport is not an easy place to navigate when the aim is not just to get on a plane. There are security systems in place to make sure everything runs smoothly. He watches, she engages with the game. Meanwhile, a group of activists continues with the plan. The Moon is their witness.
A game of glances, a plan set in motion, a dance between control and chaos. In a setting where surveillance is total and bodies move under the constant gaze of cameras, a man silently follows a woman’s steps through security screens. But she knows — has always known — that she is being watched. And she plays with it. The surveillance cameras, as ubiquitous as the particles in the air, do not merely provide us with the point of view of God — here, God is in the most unexpected details. The spectator is also drawn into this game of observation and deception, with their expectations continuously challenged until the final outcome. To give shape to this universe, animation veterans Olga and Priit Pärn employed motion capture technology, combining real actors, 3D puppets, digital drawing, and collage. The result is a hybrid and highly expressive aesthetic: the bodies move peculiarly, their faces are living masks. Between contemporary themes and plenty of surrealist imagination, Luna Rossa’s atmosphere evokes De Chirico, Italian popular culture, and the codes of film noir — the man embodies the detective archetype, the woman that of the femme fatale, and in this hunting game, there is something of eroticism, mystery, and moral decay that make up the genre’s codes. Strange and fun until the end, Luna Rossa raises questions about power and resistance in a world where everything can be seen — but not everything can be avoided. (Cláudia Marques)
