A world apart

I conceived this film over decades spent in the small mountain towns of Abruzzo, having seen these communities empty out over time, going from 3000 to 1000 to 300 inhabitants, and their schools close. One winter day two years ago, I entered a school that had been closed for a long time. Desks piled up, old computers, a cold that chilled to the bone, and in the person who opened the door and guided me around, a total and serene resignation to an inevitable fate. I know that resignation well and how complicated it has always been, here, to shake it off and try to be the protagonists of one's own destiny: it was at that moment that "Un mondo a parte" (A Different World) began, and we filmed the entire movie in that abandoned school, making it come back to life for a couple of months. And I started with the awareness that in these small communities across our country (the famous "real country" that we often talk about but, even more often, don't know), an awareness of change is slowly emerging. I knew that in many small towns, administrators and citizens, to keep schools open, have for years implemented more or less legal expedients, but ones that everyone knows about; many schools, the backbone of our society, have been saved this way – in a makeshift and autonomous, but effective, manner. This is what is done in thousands of small towns throughout Italy. And this is what perhaps should be done throughout our country: "cut off the rooster's head," as Ivan Graziani sings, do everything to defend one's identity, the ability to decide and participate, as protagonists, in the active life of the country. A cultural resistance against a common enemy, indifference and resignation, committing to a better present and future for themselves and for their country. And all this passes through those who defend this future – our teachers – and those who embody it – our children and their education. I have seen teachers in this area, here as throughout the country, travel 150 kilometers a day through snow, ice, and blizzards just to do their job. To defend it, yes, but also because they deeply believe in the importance of their role. I have seen a country that saves itself with everyone's help, that defends education because it is the foundation of any community, that wants to survive in peace with the riches of its territory, that saves itself thanks to citizens who, despite not being born in our country, have become an active and living part of it, overcoming human, political, and ideological barriers. Because the right and necessary things overcome political divisions. Because they are simply right. Because no one should be left behind, just like the wild animals that live in these wonderful territories, who live in herds and manage to do what we don't – wait for those who fall behind – and have, above all else, a sense of community. Because perhaps our entire country is potentially made of what is sung in the verses of a humble shepherd poet from these parts, Cesidio Gentile known as "Jurico," after whom the film's school is named. Virtue (and we truly have a lot of it) and peace (and we truly have little of it). Non-contractual credits. Thanks to Wildside and Medusa, who strongly believed in this project. Thanks to my entire crew for following me in complicated conditions. Thanks to Antonio and Virginia who lived for months within this community, absorbing its feelings and irony. Thanks to the entire Alto Sangro community for agreeing to tell its own story, even if this film, as always, contains my vision of life's matters. Once again, I don't know what genre "Un Mondo a Parte" might belong to. I only hope, as always, that the audience receives a sincere and passionate film.