and present - Chicago International Film Festival · like ghosts wander around the shelves full of teddy bears, chocolate and Biagio Antonacci cds. They They laugh loudly about this

and

present

TIR A film by ALBERTO FASULO

Starring:

BRANKO ZAVRŠAN

LUČKA POČKAJ

MARIJAN ŠESTAK

International Sales Fandango

Raffaella Di Giulio [email protected]

+39 06 85218155 - +39 347 5248172

International Press Claudia Tomassini & Associates

International Film Publicity Claudia Tomassini

Tel. + 39 334 3075056 [email protected]

www.claudiatomassini.com

Italian Press Office Studio PUNTOeVIRGOLA Tel. +39 06 39388909

[email protected] www.studiopuntoevirgola.com

Tucker Film Press Tel. +39 0432 299545 Gianmatteo Pellizzari

[email protected] www.tuckerfilm.com

Running time: 85’

Rome Film festival screenings

Nov. 15th, Sala Petrassi Auditorium, 9:00am (press screening)

Nov. 15th novembre, Sala Sinopoli Auditorium, 5:00pm (official screening)

Nov. 16th, Teatro Studio Auditorium, 9:00am

Nov. 17th, Cinema Barberini, 6:00pm

Cast

BRANKO ZAVRŠAN Branko

LUČKA POČKAJ Isa

MARIJAN ŠESTAK Maki

Credits

script ENRICO VECCHI, CARLO ARCIERO, ALBERTO FASULO, BRANKO ZAVRŠAN

produced by NADIA TREVISAN ALBERTO FASULO

coproduced by IRENA MARKOVIC

sound editing LUCA BERTOLIN IGOR FRANCESCUTTI

cinematography ALBERTO FASULO

editing JOHANNES HIROSHI NAKAJIMA

sound design DANIELA BASSANI, GORDAN FUCKAR,

STEFANO GROSSO, DUBRAVKA PREMAR,

RICCARDO SPAGNOL

a co-production FOCUS MEDIA in cooperation with RAICINEMA

with the support of FONDO PER L'AUDIOVISIVO DEL FRIULI-VENEZIA GIULIA

PIEMONTE DOC FILM FUND – FONDO REGIONALE PER IL DOCUMENTARIO

FRIULI – VENEZIA GIULIA FILM COMMISSION

FILM COMMISSION VALLÉE D'AOSTE

BLS BUSINESS LOCATION SÜDTIROL ALTO ADIGE

CROATIAN AUDIOVISUAL CENTRE

© 2013 Nefertiti Film Srl. Focus Media

Tucker Film Srl.

SYNOPSIS

Travelling around Europe’s routes, Branko has turned into a truck driver who is farther and farther

away from everything and everyone, living on his own in his cabin trying to give his family a better

life. Day and night, for long weeks, becoming one with his truck, he now earns three times his wage

as a teacher, but everything has a price, even though sometimes it is not measurable in money.

One day ALBERTO FASULO misses the train and ends up travelling aboard a truck. An unexpected

world, one that looks like the one he’d like to live in, unfolds before him…

With Tir, the well-known Friulian documentarist, for the first time, experiences working with actors.

Fasulo persuades Branko Završan (“No Man’s Land”) to live as one with him and his camera inside a

truck cab for three months, after having him getting his driver’s license and a temp job as a truck

driver at an Italian trucking company.

“TIR”’s screenplay won Premio Solinas in 2010

«for the severe look, the uniqueness and the viewpoint of the story. A movie that shrewdly questions our times and

the definition of identity, rambling around through Europe’s porous borders».

DIRECTOR’S NOTES

Before being a movie about a truck driver, TIR is a film about a paradox: you get a job that has you

living far away from your beloved ones, who are in the end the very people you are working for. The

writing process lasted more than four years. During that time I switched between field-work

research and pondering on the material we had gathered, in a constant creative tension between

fiction and documentary elements. All of it while this never before seen crisis was exploding around

us, a crisis that would sound not just reductive even wrong to be merely defined as an economic

one. But more than telling a sociological tale, I was interested in getting under my character’s skin

and portraying him in a moment of personal crisis, where he’d be forced to make a choice, not just a

practical, but also an ethical and existential one. Therefore, my aim for the movie is for it to be seen

as a metaphor of contemporary life and I will define it as “successful” only if it proves to be able to

talk to everyone who is going through that paradox in their very own lives.

At first working with actors was such a responsibility. Once challenge, motivations and method got

settled, we locked up inside the truck cabin, Branko played the driver and I filmed him while making

events happen even without him knowing. In four months we covered over 30.000 kilometers; I

realized we drew an X on Europe, from Sweden to Rome from Budapest to Seville, and the line

between reality and fiction often went blurry. We discussed the difference between being tired and

playing someone tired, but in the end we became friends, though many times I forbade him from

washing up, shaving or I asked him to cook next to the truck’s tires. Once we got out of this intense

venture, we both changed our perception of everyday life.

“I HATE BEING LATE” A story by Alberto Fasulo and Enrico Vecchi

1. HITCH-HIKING: How I ended up on a highway in a freezing winter night

I’m in Florence, at Festival dei Popoli. It’s nighttime. It’s winter. It’s cold. Tomorrow I have to be in

Naples by 8 a.m. sharp to attend a movie shooting where I found work as a sound technician. I head

towards the train station. I get distracted thinking about the amazing film I’ve just watched, De

grote vakantie by Johan van der Keuken, and I get on the wrong train, the one going north, to

Milan. When the doors close, it’s too late. I get off in Bologna. There are no more trains to Naples

and, besides, at midnight public transportation goes on strike. DAMMIT.

There’s not even a trace of a bus heading south. I decide to go to the highway toll-booth and hitch-

hike. I grab a cab. I use almost all of my money. During the trip from the station to the toll-booth

the cab driver offers to drive me to Naples for 500 euros. I reply “no thanks”. He drops me off at the

toll-booth ticket dispenser and I make use of my last resort: my thumb, symbol of my loneliness in

a freezing late November night. What am I doing here?

Cars speed by uninterested. A request, a plea, a quick explanation, just a moment granted by a

window going down and up again. And then, go. Them, the drivers. Because I stay here, pinned

down by my stubbornness without option. A police car shows up.

-Good evening. Do you realize it is absolutely forbidden to hitch-hike on highways?

-Yes, I know, I’m sorry, but, you know… - and I tell them about my situation.

To my utter surprise, the policemen let me get in their Alfetta and escort me through the highway to

the closest rest stop. Here, they say, someone may perhaps be moved to pity and offer me a ride to

Naples.

2. REST STOP: Worlds brushing by at 4 in the morning

It’s 2.30 at night. Behind the counter at the rest stop there’s Giovanna, forty years old, serious,

straight-faced, nothing can touch her, nothing can trouble her. She’s got a Buster Keaton deadpan

expression, a mask she learned to wear after years and years of working behind this counter that

she keeps on polishing like it was a mirror. By now nothing can surprise her. Her eyes seem like

they have seen life’s everything. At first I feel afraid in front of so much apathy; I feel

uncomfortable. But then, at my third serving of cappuccino, my misadventures steal a smile from

her face. The ice melts and we become accomplices in making comments about the human and

humanoid fauna that rolls by in front of her counter.

There are groups of more or less drunk kids coming back from local clubs. They’re all wearing

sunglasses to avoid seeing or to avoid being seen. They have the munchies, gobbling up croissants

and custard doughnuts in two bites, clinging to Giovanna’s counter like it was a lifesaver. Some just

like ghosts wander around the shelves full of teddy bears, chocolate and Biagio Antonacci cds. They

laugh loudly about this person’s beard, that person’s belly, my dear Giovanna’s deadpan face. They

pay with money they earned who knows where, who knows how, and get out squawking without the

courtesy of leaving a tip.

A little farther a German couple spreads out a map on a table. They have a bright-eyed five year old

daughter. Shouldn’t a five year old girl be in bed at this late at night? But in bed where? We’re on

the highway. The girl climbs up on the chair. She’s fascinated by Italy’s map. She wants to take part

in planning their trip. I observe her and I perceive the sense of adventure she must be feeling right

now. This experience will be embedded in her memory and accompany her all her life. “ I was five

years old. An amazing trip, to Italy, at night, with my dad, my mom…” I can almost now hear her

reminiscing in fifty years.

Time is a spot that includes all times and I ended up in the middle of it, at night, at a rest stop. But

what am I doing here? That’s right! I have to go to Naples, be on set, at eight sharp. I almost

forgot. I look at the clock. Almost 4. Time flies by. Giovanna is happy. She gets off at 6. Instead I’d

like to stop time. Bologna-Naples in 4 hours. It would take a miracle. It would take a ride. It would

take a truck driver.

3. ERCOLE: A hero riding an eight wheeled horse

Ercole is 40, a little short but well-built, with long and messy hair and is wearing an old faded

orange Adidas track suit. Over the shoulder he carries his inseparable squeezebox-shaped brown

bag. Under his arm he keeps a cream colored toiletries case from which a green toothbrush pops up.

He walks in and says hello to Giovanna with a sleepy gesture of the hand. Then he drags himself to

the lavatory. Clop, clop, clop. The noise made by his wooden clogs ricochets in a rare silent moment

inside the rest stop. Ercole shaves, washes his armpits, brushes his teeth and comes to the counter

and drinks a coffee with us.

- When are you going to get showers at this rest stop? – he asks her without much hope.

-Yeah, showers, be thankful there are faucets! – replies Giovanna.

Then she introduces me. She explains my situation to Ercole. She tells him that I’m a good kid, I

have to get to Naples, I’m at risk of losing my job… etc… I let her do her thing, I let her talk about

me, for me, just like I was mute and she was my biographer. I just give out a dumb smile. Ercole

barely looks at me. I understand that he is, just like Giovanna, a person of few words. It’s got to be

night that hardens people’s bark.

-Wait for me outside – he tells me in the end with no frills.

I am beaming. My hope is rekindled. Maybe I can make it. Maybe I’ll be in Naples in time. But time

is a spot and I ended up in it, here, now, at a rest stop, where a nostalgic past, my body in the

present moment and a future full of hopes cross paths. In the meantime Giovanna takes out the

mop. I thank her and say goodbye before the detergent’s bitter smell chases away the flavor of the

last coffee.

- Thank you, thank you so much!

Once outside Ercole sizes me up. He’s short and he looks at me from bottom to top asking me tons

of questions. Who are you? What’s your name? What do you want? How can I trust you? Who tells

me you are not going to rob me? I try my best to calm him down. I make use of all my goodwill,

honesty and openness. I’m so sugary that I’m almost cloying. But then I get it, he’s just making fun

of me while he’s smoking his first daily cigarette. And he takes off to the parking lot with an insolent

laugh. I follow his clopping clogs. Clop, clop, clop. A noise that breaks the night in two and turns it

into the morning.

Here it’s darker, colder and more silent than anywhere else in the world. The moon is not here

anymore and the sun is still sleeping. We wander around the huge trucks parked one next to the

other. They look like gigantic colored bricks. Next to these behemoths we must seem like tiny

creatures. And bottom line we are. It’s all a matter of perspective. For example now I’m smaller

than this tire. Finally we stop in front of a massive, shiny, bright red truck. I look at Ercole mounting

aboard with surprising ease. He climbs on platforms just like a stein-bock. He then shuts the door

and starts maneuvering. I stay on the ground waiting for a signal, a word, some instructions on how

to get into the cabin without feeling like an intruder or, worse, a thief.

Instead Ercole turns on the engine. The sudden roar, powerful and deafening, makes me jump out

of my skin. I turn around the cabin, walk in front of the scary snout of that twelve-wheeled beast.

Now I am indeed small, really miniscule, just like when I was five and I looked at all the cars parked

along my street and it seemed to me they all had different faces: lights as eyes, brands as noses,

bumpers as mouths. Night and solitude make me more sensitive. I shrink and relive feelings from

when I was a child.

Ercole gestures for me to climb aboard, three rectangular tongues inviting me to get in. I climb up

and finally I too am two meters from the ground, inside Ercole’s universe, a welcome guest of his

parallel world.

4. IN THE CABIN: The world from up here

I watch Ercole. I see his profile. He fixes his hair, cleans his glasses, arranges the dashboard… and

at the same time the engine of his house on wheels turns into heat, a heat that eases me up and

relaxes my nerves. I read, reflected on the glass, the neon sign: “Indiano Rosso (Red Indian)”.

Maybe Ercole is truly a descendent of Native Americans and what I am witnessing is nothing but an

ancestral rite that has been repeated since the dawn of time. The engine is hot, the cabin is ready.

Ercole turns around, he’s peaceful and looks me in the eyes.

- Are you ready?- he asks.

- Sure – I answer.

- Well my name is Alberto. Thanks for what you’re doing!

He smiles.

- I have to go to Rome anyway. I’m not doing anything special. Don’t thank me. Let’s try to enjoy

the trip. My name is Ercole.

Ercole makes me feel safe, his way of getting ready for the trip tells a lot about him: he’s definitely

been a truck driver for many years. Not only he does know the road, but he also knows himself. You

can tell that from the way he sized me up and decided to take me aboard. I’m in good hands, I think

and I relax so much I fall asleep. When I wake up, the sun is rising next to us.

- I slept, I’m sorry.

- Don’t be. You have to sleep otherwise how can you stay up? What matters is I do not fall asleep.

That would be trouble.

Thus we start talking. We talk about anything: us, our lives, our dreams, our choices. And while the

sun lights up the road ahead of us I realize that something magic is happening between me and

Ercole, something called trust, friendship, intimacy that allows us to talk about things we’re not able

to confess even to ourselves. Even the land we’re crossing seems like it wants to interact with us, as

if houses, trees and fields, we see speeding by from our window, would like to interpreter our

secrets too. Kilometers pass by, time passes by. It’s seven and we’re not yet at Rome’s GRA (Great

Ring Road). I’m never going to make it to the set on time. But it’s ok. Actually, at this point, I’m

happy I took the wrong train. Ercole turns on his CB radio and starts talking.

- Gringos, gringos, it’s Red Indian. Is anyone going down south and has yet to go through the GRA?

Here with me there’s a friend of mine travelling to Naples. He’s with us thanks to the railway strike.

He’s harmless, good people, clean, smart. He’s even fun. He’s going to keep you good company for

the next three hours. Over.

I’d like to thank him for this unexpected gesture, but I get suddenly cut short by a radio-answer.

- Hi “Red Indian”, it’s “Vikingo”, unfortunately I’m going up from Naples right now and I can’t help

you.

- Thanks anyways “Vikingo”, have a safe trip.

- It’s “Vento di Guerra 83 (War Wind 83), good morning “Red Indian”. I’m going to Naples but I’m

still at Florence’s junction. I don’t know if your friend can wait.

- Ok “War Wind 83”, thank you very much.

- It’s “Il Terribile (The Terrible), I’m exiting the GRA right now but I’m at the southern exit.

- Doesn’t matter “Terrible”, thanks anyways and have a safe trip…

I’m dumbfounded. Just three hours ago I was a ghost wandering on my own around an anonymous

icy rest stop. Now thanks to Ercole, I find myself thrown inside a net of people who talk to each

other like brothers and help each other. It’s a tribe of modern nomads, united by pure, practical

immediate, rhetoric immune solidarity. Here you help each other and that’s all. What better

metaphor of the world I’d like to live in? I’m overwhelmed by a strong sense of humanity. I feel like

I’ve just brushed the tip of the iceberg, I’ve only took a glimpse of a much bigger world, a

fascinating world, the world of those who experience the road as their daily work place. Here we are,

almost at the Gra. There’s a voice on the radio. It’s “Spider Blu (Blue Spider)”.

-I’m behind you. Five kilometers. I’m going to Naples. I’ll give your friend a ride.

The trip goes on.

Thank you, Ercole.

“Augh! Red Indian”.

A CONVERSATION WITH ALBERTO FASULO

What was the spark that ignited the creation of your movie?

As far as sparks, in five years, there were many: I think epiphanies don’t ever spring out of just one

cause, but it’s a combination of circumstances that gives birth to a story. A story that is not going to

desert you. But, if I dig up the past, I think the first seed can be found in my biographical

experience. Not that there is or has ever been a truck driver in my family. Well, yes, maybe some

distant uncle… but I decided for a truck driver because I felt like it perfectly depicted the metaphor

of distance. The distance that happens between a parent who is absorbed by his job, worried about

giving his child the best, and a son whom he never or hardly ever gets to see. The very well-being of

the son originates from the parent’s absence: ludicrous. A paradox. A modern paradox. I believe

that is also why our consumerism has been able to impose itself with so much strength. When I was

two, my parents started a pizza place that ran really well and kept them busy from morning to

night, body and soul, 800 meters from home, preventing me from truly growing up around them.

Clearly, rereading our biographies always leads us to fictionalizing them a little bit, turning them into

a tale, but that was certainly one of the first aches I had to deal with while I was growing up. An

issue I have to face every day, especially now that I am a father.

And is Branko’s story, a story made of too many departures and very few comebacks, the answer?

It’s not an answer: it’s a possible rephrasing of the issue from a different point of view. A point of

view that is lowered down into everyday life, moving across Europe during its economic crisis

(though it would be more correct to talk about the crisis of an economic model) in a society that

seems scared, even more, terrified, by the mere idea of having to give up something, of having to

stop even for just a few moments and try to understand what its real necessities and basic needs

are. It seems to me that nowadays we live more and more distant and separated from what we’re

doing: distance has exploded, we’re constantly online, we’re reachable anywhere, while going

places, even in the bathroom, in bed, during our supposed moments of intimacy. But when do we

find the time to be present to ourselves? When do we answer to our most important needs? I am

here but I’m communicating with an elsewhere, I think of an elsewhere, I crave for something else.

That’s how Branko the truck driver becomes a relative of the sales manager wearing a tie, of the

executive in his suit, the scientist, the writer, the out-of-town college student, the blue collar, hired

by temp agencies, who keeps changing temp jobs.

I wanted to tell about this loneliness and to explore the endurance level of a person who made a

more or less aware work choice and now he’s facing its consequences and taking it all the way.

During those five years of research on the road, inside truck cabs, at trucking companies, I heard

and came across many stories and many different experiences. And this story, which is a true one,

seemed to me the archetype of them all: that’s why in the beginning I talked about epiphanies.

As for my method, I went on the field and came back to write together with Enrico and Carlo, using

images, stories, feelings that I had experienced and found on the road. More than answers,

questions arose, but slowly we started feeling the deep connection between what we wanted to tell

and our own lives. At some point we stumbled upon this story and we immediately felt like this was

the right one to represent to the audience the questions we cared for. Branko clearly is Ulysses, a

man who thinks duty is more important than delight.

From Tagliamento’s white noise to the road’s grey noise: in both cases, a trip. Why?

Because each and every trip, from the most trivial to the most adventurous one, is a process of

discovery and transformation. To put it simply: you know where you start and you know where you

are headed, but you don’t know what is going to happen along the way. This is valid for you and for

the trip, and for those who one day will hear the tale of your travelling. All that you can do is get

well equipped for departure, and that’s what I do when I prepare for the movie I have in mind.

Then, once on the march, you keep what’s useful, you leave what’s cumbersome, you lose what’s

destined to break and you keep going like that, slowly, looking for the path that will lead you to the

destination you had predetermined, the destination you long for, the destination that in the end you

get to reach. Since it takes me several years to do my research, obviously, when I complete a movie

and I start to distance myself from it, I always realize how much my life and my profession cross

paths and feed off each other. There is no doubt that if I had shot these two movies in a different

moment of my life, they would have turned out completely different.

Unlike your previous projects, and in spite of its absolute realism, TIR is not a documentary. How did

you deal with the thin line that separates fiction from objective narration?

I cared more about the story I had ran into, and later rearranged with Enrico and Carlo, then the

character/person who had given it to me. There are some different practical reasons that

determined my choice, but suffice to say that in the end, for this project, the documentary seemed

like a limit which prevented me from getting deeper into the story. I needed a person who would let

me keep close while the pain and the main drama of the story were building up. A person willing to

directly take the challenge and let me keep the camera rolling even during delicate and intimate

situations, with no censure but also no exhibitionism. That’s why I started thinking of employing an

actor, even though I did not want to lose the honesty towards reality that I perceived as pivotal

point. Hence, I had to find an actor willing to become a truck driver, at least for the shooting, and it

was not easy. Thanks to an actor friend, Andrea Collavino, I met Branko Zavrsan and I instantly felt

a strong kinship. After talking for a few minutes Branko asked: « Do you want me to become a truck

driver to shoot a documentary about me? ». I couldn’t figure out if the idea appealed to him or not.

«Yes, it’s kind of like that. I’d like to lock up with you in the truck cab and find the character inside

the real world». And to my great relief, Branko exclaimed: «Finally a research movie!». We started

off with no “ifs” and no “buts”. We plunged into it. And here we are…

Speaking of truck drivers: did, as you call them, the “great nomadic tribe” favorably welcome your

project?

In the beginning they were suspicious, it was difficult to explain my intents: they thought I was

shooting the company’s ad campaign. But then, by introducing Branko, we knocked down all walls of

mistrust. He won them over by learning how to drive, download, maneuvering the truck just like

them, while I learned to accept their mistrust and I understood it was part of the game, hoping that

with the movie done they would then understand and in the end accept me. Besides I was still

somebody who had been put in by the boss, therefore I was someone not codified, not safe. Anyway

only the synergy between an unpredictable and generous actor such as Branko and an enlightened

businessman such as the company’s owner (who wants to stay anonymous) allowed me to blend the

typical documentary characteristics, like the listening ability, with those of fiction, and to give birth

to a realist film.

A CONVERSATION WITH BRANKO ZAVRŠAN

Why did Branko the actor decide to become Branko the truck driver?

Because of the themes Alberto wanted to deal with. In this world and in this age where money is the

ultimate god, we must stand our ground. I can’t stand the violence of corporate and privatized

governments and in my opinion this movie could, at least partially, single out the emptiness of

contemporary existence. I love being involved in movies where you have to discover and learn a

new art or a new craft: that’s where I find the incentive to be always believable.

Professional life and personal life put on top of each other, day after day, almost fading into each

other: not many would have accepted this sort of experience.

By saying that, you describe me as a person with special, exclusive qualities, but I’m not. It’s not

like that. I don’t think few people would have taken on the TIR experience, because you cannot be

indifferent to the way things are! An artist who is not moved by curiosity and doesn’t feel the need

to draw the attention on the issues that surround us is a sterile artist. And his work is meaningless. I

think it’s art itself that must have a profound meaning and has to be accepted by the artist as a

responsibility, an imperative, a duty. And if this project required a bigger effort, that was simply the

price owed to that duty. But if your point got proven, and if it was true the adventure of TIR would

have be taken on by few, then my concern for reality would be terribly amplified.

What was the toughest time?

More than specific tough times, I can talk about the responsibilities I took during the long months of

shooting. Besides being the actor/truck driver, I was the only link between the director and the

events, because Alberto doesn’t speak the two main languages used in the film. I acted as a buffer

between the company’s needs, with horrific working hours, and the movie and filming’s needs. I

acted as a coach for Maki (the co-pilot) helping him “playing himself”, without letting it slip that I

was an actor. While talking to the people we met, I had to make them tell their stories, but not as

an interview: I was an actor and an “undercover” co-screenwriter. Anyway, driving was the easiest

thing, because the truck does anything you want it to do! Whereas my haven of peace was cooking

next to the truck’s rear tire.

How did you manage to finally win over the trust of real truck drivers?

By driving in the truck labyrinth, stationed for the strike scene. The drivers bet it was going to be

impossible to make that maneuver, but I made it. My first and only try. Same thing for all the other

attempts made during the filming, because when if you use a documentary approach, you don’t

have the chance to reshoot the same scene multiple times. Basically never. Well, once the scene

was done, the “real” drivers gave me a round of applause!

What did the adventure with TIR teach you on a human level?

More than teaching, it helped me strengthen two basic firm believes: the first one is that everyone

deserves respect, the second one is each life carries a priceless value. Each one of us is fragile and

disadvantaged in some situation, or at some social level, and fighting is not worth much: that’s the

price we pay for civilization! Ah, before I forget, I also have a third firm belief, that is as important

as the other two: the world is truly crazy, but, sometimes, its folly can also be a beautiful thing.

(Interviews by Gianmatteo Pellizzari)

ALBERTO FASULO

BIOGRAPHY

Friulian, born in 1976, Alberto Fasulo started working in the movie industry as assistant director,

between fiction and creative documentary, learning the job on film sets. In 2008, after seven years

in Rome, he directed and produced his first feature film, documentary Rumore Bianco (White Noise),

selected by many international festivals and distributed in theaters in Italy. His debut singled him

out as «a new promising author» according to Italian critics. TIR is his very first fictional film.

FILMOGRAPHY

TIR (2013 - feature film, 85’)

Produced by Nefertiti Film with Rai Cinema.

Break (2010 - short, doc. 7’)

Produced by Nefertiti Film.

Finalist at JJA Jazz Award 2011-New York (USA).

Atto di Dolore (2010 - short, doc. 11’)

Produced by Nefertiti Film.

International Competition “Vision du reel” 2011 - Nyon (CH).

Rumore Bianco (2008 - feature film, doc. 88’)

Produced by Faber Film in partnership with Nefertiti Film.

Awards: Ischia Film Festival 2009 (Best Documentary), Sciacca Film Festival 2009 (Special Mention),

Euganea Film Festival 2009 (Premio Parco Colli Euganei Award), Nominee at Nastri d’Argento as

Debut Film.

Festival Selections: Wide Angle Competition - Busan International Film Festival, International

Competition Festival dei Popoli - Florence, International Competition Trento Film Festival,

International Competition Cinemambiente, International Competition Bellaria Film Festival, Gallio

Film Festival, National Competition - Solothurner Film Festival, China Italian International Image

Documentary Forum, International Competition-Make Dox - Macedonia Film Festival, and many

others.

Italian Distribution: Tucker Film since November 28th 2008.

Cos’è che Cambia (2004 - short, doc. 55’)

Produced by Nefertiti Film.

Il Vangelo Luca & Matteo (2002 - short, doc. 10’)

Produced by Nefertiti Film.

1 Giorno ogni 15 (2013 - short)

Produced by Nefertiti Film.

Under development.

BRANKO ZAVRŠAN

BIOGRAPHY

Born in January 1962, he’s played in film, theater, Slovenian and international television

productions.

He graduated in 1984 from the National Academy of Theatre, Film, Radio and Television in

Ljubljana. Završan did postgraduate work at the International School of Theatre, Mime and

Movement "Jacques Lecoq" in Paris in 1987. He is also a screenwriter, choreographer, dance

theater and play director. He directed documentaries and didactic movies. Now he is an “alternative

theater” teacher at Ljubljana’s Theatre Academy and presently he teaches also at the Dance

Academy in Ljubljana.

Among his most remarkable performances: the role of “Deminer” in the movie No Man’s Land by

Tanis Tanović, set in 1993 during the Serb-Bosnian war (winner of Best Screenplay award at Cannes

2001); “Tragedian” in the film Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern are dead by English playwright Tom

Stoppard, winner of Golden Lion award at Venice Film Festival 1990.

SELECTED FILMOGRAPHY

TIR (2013)

Alberto Fasulo (role: Branko)

Adria Blues (2013)

Miroslav Mandić (role: Borut)

Lea And Daria (Lea I Daria) (2011)

Branko Ivanda

Hand Luggage (Osebna prtljaga) (2011)

Janez Lapajne (role: Samo)

Instalation Of Love (Instalacija ljubezni) (2007)

Maja Weiss (role: Vasko)

No Man’s Land (2001)

Danis Tanović (role: Deminer) Best Screenplay award at Cannes Film Festival 2001, European FENIX

Award 2001, CESAR 2002, GOLDEN GLOBE and OSCAR award 2002 etc. (over 50 different awards…)

Rosenkrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead (1990)

Tom Stoppard (Tragedian) GOLDEN LION at Venice Film Festival 1990

PRODUCTION NEFERTITI FILM

Nefertiti Film is an independent production company, located in Friuli Venezia Giulia, part of the

international movie scene. It produces research projects for the movie industry and more, with a

strong inclination towards auteur projects, keeping a craftsman style in filmmaking.

TUCKER FILM

Tucker Film starts in 2008 when, after 30 years in the trade, Cinemazero in Pordenone and Centro

Espressioni Cinematografiche (C.E.C.) in Udine join forces to launch a new distribution and

production business. The two main branches of the company are: local productions, concerning

regional culture, and the distribution of Asian movies. The second branch was born and developed in

strict connection with Far East Film Festival, the most prominent showcase for popular Asian cinema,

in its 15th year in 2013, which is run by C.E.C.

During its five years of activity, Tucker Film has been able to carve out a key role for itself in the

Italian scene of independent distribution. Among the distributed movies we find: Rumore Bianco by

Alberto Fasulo (2008), Departures by Takita Yojiro (2010, Japan) – 2009 Oscar award winner - Best

Foreign Language Film, Poetry by Lee Chang-dong (2011, South Korea) – Best screenplay award

winner at Festival de Cannes in 2010, A Simple Life by Ann Hui (2012, Hong Kong) – 2011 Coppa

Volpi award for Best Actress to Deanie Ip, L’estate di Giacomo by Alessandro Comodin (2012, Italy,

Belgium, France) - Pardo d’oro Cineasti del presente award - George Foundation award at Festival di

Locarno in 2011, Reign of Assassins by John Woo and Su-chao Pin (2012, Cina, Hong Kong,

Taiwan).

In 2012 Rai4 channel broadcasts the series “Missione Estremo Oriente (Mission: Far East)”, showing

on prime time TV a remarkable selection of contemporary Asian films, and among them, in their

very first viewing, some Tucker Film releases that did not get scheduled in movie theaters. The Far

East Film series started out in partnership with CG Home Video and not only it contains all the

novelties in movies brought to theaters by Tucker Film, it also offers an interesting assortment of

movies that made it on the screen of Far East Film Festival past editions and that were until now

unknown to the Italian audience.

Tucker Film has recently distributed in theaters Confessions by Nakashima Tetsuya, Amore Carne by

Pippo Delbono and In Another Country by Hong Sang-soo, starring Isabelle Huppert. Also, soon to

be released, Thermae Romae by Takeuchi Hideki (2012, Japan).

Now Tucker Film is distributing Zoran, My Idiot Nephew of Matteo Oleotto (Venice Critics' Week

Winner - The Audience Award "RaroVideo" - Venice 70).