-In your opinion, what is the relationship between cinema and truth?
For me, cinema is not merely entertainment—it is a language of the soul. Truth in cinema is not always found in literal facts, but in the emotional, spiritual, and human experiences that resonate universally. Through music, imagery, silence, and storytelling, cinema has the power to reveal aspects of ourselves that words alone cannot express. My films seek an inner truth: one that invites reflection, compassion, and a deeper awareness of our shared humanity.
-What kind of change do you hope to inspire in someone who experiences your art?
I hope my work leaves people with a sense of peace, hope, and expanded consciousness. Whether through music or film, my intention is to remind audiences of the beauty that still exists within themselves and in the world. If someone finishes one of my works feeling more inspired to love, to forgive, to protect nature, or simply to see life with greater wonder, then I feel my artistic mission has been fulfilled.
-What does the word future mean to you?
The future is something we create through the choices we make today. I believe humanity is entering a period of profound transformation where technology and creativity must evolve together with wisdom, ethics, and compassion. As an artist, I see the future as an opportunity to build bridges between cultures, inspire unity, and contribute to a more conscious civilization through art that transcends borders and generations.
-Briefly describe your creative process. How do you select the ideas that eventually become a screenplay?
My creative process begins with silence. Many ideas emerge during meditation, contemplation, or while composing music, long before a screenplay is written. Music often becomes the emotional foundation from which the visual story naturally unfolds. I choose projects that carry a meaningful message—stories capable of elevating the human spirit, exploring our relationship with nature, consciousness, love, and the mystery of existence. I am drawn to ideas that continue to resonate deeply over time, because those are the stories that.
Theodora Kotsi-Felici is a Greek-Dutch multidisciplinary artist based between Rotterdam and Strasbourg. For over fifteen years, she has developed an interdisciplinary practice at the intersection of contemporary art, architecture, science, sound, and film. Through site-specific installations, documentaries, and spatial interventions, she investigates the relationships between space, power, memory, and lived experience. Her research-driven work explores trauma as a collective and systemic phenomenon, creating immersive environments that invite reflection, dialogue, and healing while offering new perspectives on the social and political dimensions of public space.
Do you remember the exact moment you fell in love with cinema?
I don’t think there was a single defining moment. Cinema gradually became part of my artistic language as I discovered its extraordinary ability to unite image, sound, time, memory, and emotion into a single experience. What fascinates me most is that film doesn’t simply tell a story—it creates a space that the viewer inhabits.
Coming from a background in site-specific installations, I realized that cinema could extend my work beyond the physical boundaries of an exhibition. It allows me to build immersive worlds that reach people across cultures and geographies while preserving the intimacy of a deeply personal experience. For me, cinema is not just a medium; it is another form of spatial intervention—one that invites audiences to see, feel, and question the invisible structures that shape our lives.
Tell us about your project “The Circle”
The Circle is an interdisciplinary installation and film project that investigates trauma as a collective and systemic condition embedded within social, political, and spatial structures. Combining site-specific installation, moving image, sound, and embodied participation, the work transforms invisible mechanisms of power, exclusion, and resilience into lived experience. Rather than presenting trauma as an individual narrative, The Circle invites audiences to physically navigate shared environments where personal and collective histories intersect. By activating the body as a site of knowledge, the project creates space for reflection, dialogue, and healing, while questioning how we inhabit, remember, and transform the spaces we share.
Which director inspires you the most?
Lars von Trier. I admire his uncompromising approach to cinema and his ability to explore the deepest layers of the human psyche alongside the spiritual and emotional dimensions of the human condition. His films transcend conventional storytelling, confronting existential questions of faith, suffering, vulnerability, and the complexity of existence. He creates emotionally intense worlds that invite the viewer to embrace ambiguity rather than certainty. His artistic courage, emotional honesty, and willingness to challenge both cinematic conventions and the audience have profoundly influenced my own artistic practice.
What do you dislike about the world and what would you change?
I am deeply concerned by the growing polarization, fear, and ignorance that divide people and fuel conflict. If I could change one thing, it would be to create more spaces for healing, compassion, dialogue, and mutual understanding—places where people can reconnect with themselves and with one another, and where differences become opportunities for growth rather than division.
How do you imagine cinema in 100 years?
I believe artificial intelligence will make filmmaking far more accessible, allowing many more voices to tell their stories. While technology will continue to evolve, I hope cinema will never lose its human essence—the ability to move us, connect us, and help us better understand ourselves and one another.
What is your impression of WILD FILMMAKER?
WILD FILMMAKER is an inspiring platform that gives both emerging and established filmmakers the opportunity to present their work to an international audience. It encourages artistic diversity, creates meaningful visibility for independent cinema, and helps connect filmmakers across cultures and disciplines.
I am a filmmaker, producer, director, musician, dancer, sculptor and songwriter. Having explored many different art forms, I have always gravitated toward my greatest passion: filmmaking. Whether working in short- or feature-length narrative, documentary, or music video, film remains my most powerful form of creative expression—particularly within my favourite genre, science fiction.
I was born into a world of art. My father, John Howley, was one of Australia’s most celebrated artists, while my mother, Rachell Howley, directed one of St Kilda’s earliest art galleries. Together, through the Acland Street Art Gallery, they played a pioneering role in Melbourne’s vibrant arts community during the 1980s.
My films have received numerous awards and recognition both locally and internationally. Inspired by my artistic heritage and driven by a lifelong passion for storytelling, I continue to pursue this remarkable creative journey.
Do you remember the exact moment you fell in love with cinema?
Yes, very clearly. In 1977, when I was seven years old, I saw Star Wars for the first time. It had an enormous impact on me. The scale of the story, the imaginative world, the characters and the groundbreaking visual effects opened my eyes to the extraordinary possibilities of cinema. That experience not only sparked my love of filmmaking, but also began my lifelong fascination with science fiction.
Around the same time, I also saw Jaws at the cinema. That film affected me in a very different way—I was probably far too young to see it and had nightmares for nearly three months afterwards. Looking back, both experiences demonstrated the remarkable power of cinema: one film filled me with wonder and imagination, while the other created genuine fear and suspense.
Together, they showed me how deeply films can affect an audience and inspired my enduring passion for visual storytelling.
Tell us about your project, “The Man Who Saw Them Arrive”.
The Man Who Saw Them Arrive is an Australian documentary about Colin Cameron, a man from Kew whose life changed after a mysterious encounter on Kew Boulevard. What began as a strange sighting gradually became an obsession. Colin started documenting unexplained events and sharing what was happening with the people closest to him, but over time, his experiences became more intense – and sometimes dangerous.
The story is told through Colin’s cousin, Andrea Lee Stavrianos, who made a promise to him that his story would one day be shared. Along with Andrea’s personal account, the documentary looks at some of Australia’s best-known UFO cases, including the famous Westall incident of 1966. It also features interviews with UFO researchers who help place Colin’s experience within the wider history of unexplained sightings in Australia.
At its heart, the film is a very personal story about mystery, memory and the unanswered questions that can be hiding in familiar places – sometimes right in Melbourne’s own backstreets.
The documentary had its world premiere in March 2026, when it opened the Melbourne Science Fiction Film Festival to a packed audience. A few months later, it screened at the Melbourne Documentary Film Festival and played to a sold-out cinema, which was an incredible experience.
On 7 August, the documentary will make its Queensland debut at the Australian UFO Festival in Cardwell.
Which director inspires you the most?
That’s a difficult question because so many directors have inspired me in different ways. Steven Spielberg, Stanley Kubrick, Darren Aronofsky, Akira Kurosawa, Quentin Tarantino and James Cameron are among the filmmakers whose work I greatly admire.
I naturally gravitate towards directors who work in science fiction, but I’m also drawn to films that explore important social issues and leave the audience with something meaningful to think about.
My favourite film of all time is actually American History X, directed by Tony Kaye. It’s an incredibly powerful film about racism, hatred and the possibility of change. Its strong anti-racism message is especially important to me, and I believe it remains just as relevant in today’s world. That’s the kind of filmmaking I admire—cinema that is not only visually compelling, but also has something significant to say.
What do you dislike about the world, and what would you change?
What troubles me most about the world is that there often seems to be a lack of empathy and compassion for one another. People can be quick to judge or divide themselves into different groups rather than trying to understand each other’s experiences, struggles and points of view.
There is also far too much conflict and war. So many innocent people suffer because of decisions made by those in power, and the human cost can be devastating for generations. I believe we need to place a much greater value on peaceful communication, understanding and cooperation.
If I could change something, I would encourage people to listen to one another with greater openness and kindness. We may not always agree, but we can still treat each other with dignity and respect. I believe that if there were more empathy in the world, there would be less hatred, division and violence—and a much greater chance of creating lasting peace.
How do you imagine cinema in 100 years?
I imagine cinema in 100 years will be almost unrecognisable compared with what we experience today. Traditional cinemas and flat screens may no longer be the main way we watch films. Instead, cinema could become a fully immersive holographic or virtual experience in which the audience feels physically present inside the story.
Artificial intelligence may allow each viewer to experience a personalised version of a film. The characters could respond directly to us, and our decisions might influence how the story develops or even change its ending. Rather than simply watching a film, we could become active participants in its world.
There may also be technology that connects directly with the brain, possibly through implants or advanced wearable devices. This could allow audiences to experience a character’s emotions, sensations and memories as if they were their own. Filmmakers would no longer be working only with images and sound—they could be creating complete emotional and sensory experiences.
However advanced the technology becomes, I believe the heart of cinema will remain the same. People will always want powerful stories that make them feel something and help them understand themselves and the world around them. The way we experience cinema may completely change, but our need for meaningful storytelling will continue.
What is your impression of WILD FILMMAKER?
I think WILD FILMMAKER is a fantastic platform because it shines a light on independent filmmakers and gives their work the attention it deserves. The film industry can be extremely competitive, and talented independent filmmakers often struggle to receive the same opportunities or recognition as larger, well-funded productions.
I believe it is important to support the underdogs of the film industry—the passionate filmmakers who continue creating despite limited budgets, resources and industry connections. Independent cinema is often where we discover the most original ideas, personal stories and courageous filmmaking.
Platforms such as WILD FILMMAKER provide filmmakers with valuable exposure while also helping audiences discover exciting voices they may not otherwise encounter. I greatly appreciate its commitment to celebrating independent cinema and supporting the people who keep it alive.
In your opinion, what is the relationship between cinema and the truth?
Thank you for the opportunity to interview. Cinema allows for any story to be told, fact or fable or anything in between. The relationship between cinema and the truth depends on the interpretation of the truth by the artists. The interpretation begins with the screenwriter, then is conveyed by the director through the actors, and finally is crafted by the producers. I believe it’s essential to call it what it is, especially in my realm of writing about personal experiences. There’s a big difference between “this is a true story” and “this is based on a true story.” I think that should be conveyed truthfully to the viewing audience in the opening seconds of the film. My screenplay American Money is a third tier of sorts, best described as “based on true events.” Some of the financial data in the script are not precise with regard to historical prices in October 1987, yet the basic idea that “irrational exuberance” (thank you, economist Alan Greenspan in his 1996 discussion of the ‘80s stock market) ruled the era is expressed accurately.
What kind of change do you hope to inspire in someone who experiences your art?
First, allow me to describe what I do. I’ve been a writer since 1991. Everything I have offered or will offer to the public – including two novels and four film scripts – is based to varying degrees on personal experiences. The arc common to all my storytelling is a struggle against the inequities of the status quo for the greater good of all, achieved through faith, determination, and a willingness to do whatever it takes to make the greater good happen. Today I celebrate my 70th birthday. To get here I have spent a lot of years persevering through difficulties that are common to many. It hasn’t always been easy; at times it’s been downright difficult. Yet, I absolutely love where I am and I have no regrets. With apologies for not going into detail and thereby leaning on words that sound like platitudes, I can finally answer the question: I want to inspire those who experience my art to walk out of the cinema knowing they, too, can overcome anything.
What does the word “future” mean to you?
“Future” means to me another opportunity to get it right. One of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite Irish writers, Oscar Wilde, is “The only difference between saints and sinners is every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.” However, to thoroughly realize the potential of one’s future one must truthfully reconcile one’s past. More bluntly said, if you’re in denial your future is screwed. I’m Roman Catholic. I won’t get into the four basic issues I have with the 253-page Catechism, but I will tell you three aspects I believe wholeheartedly, 1. The Holy Sacrifice, 2. The Resurrection, and 3. Every faith is tied to all faiths by The Golden Rule of do unto others as you would have them do unto you. In myself, I concentrate on correcting the little stuff. Catholics call it venial sin. Deputy Barney Fife of 1960s era television’s The Andy Griffith Show calls it, “You gotta nip it in the bud!” I’ve been single on my own (and damned happy about it) for nearly five years now. It’s up to me to, as I said in my answer to question 1, call it what it is. I quickly evaluate when I’ve been an ass, own it, and correct it. That works for me.
Describe briefly your creative process. How do you select the ideas that eventually become a screenplay?
After many attempts at various creative processes, I have settled on what suits me. I have three screenplays on which I am actively writing. They are Padre Guns (a story encountering faith, friendship, and American football) Peace Of Mind (based on a true story of overcoming betrayal)and Soaring Dove (she is the future of benevolent American politics in the 1990s, he is the Everyman helping her help her constituents; together they are a romantic what-if). I think about them non-stop, which directly contradicts the creative process of one of my favorites, Ernest Hemingway. In a sense, it’s internalized writing. When I finally sit at the laptop, which happens every day, I’ll write a scene or two for maybe an hour, then sleep on it and read it in the morning before I proceed. Padre Guns is in the final rewrite stage. I have the first draft written for Peace Of Mind and act III for Soaring Dove. I always write the ending first so I know where I’m headed. The process worked well for my first film script American Money. I am thrilled to be under an agreement with Nashville-based independent producer Incandescent Pictures; the plan is to begin filming in 2027. Three writing teachers have advised me over the past five years. Dianne Berry is an actor who was the first reader of American Money. She’s the female lead and a principal working under Incandescent’s CEO Whitni Resides. Tammy Gross (tammygross.com) has been my film script guru since April 2022. Tammy is so good at what she does I have given her the moniker Movie Harvard. Charlotte Pritt, a college and high school writing teacher and the true-to-life inspiration behind Soaring Dove (Charlotte was a candidate for the governor of the state of West Virginia in 1992, 1996, and 2016) assisted me with act III of American Money that has impressed film festival juries, garnering my first screenplay three dozen awards. Without Dianne, Tammy, and Charlotte, as well as Whitni, I am no more than permanent potential. They showed me the way, and have convinced me my best storytelling results in the examination of personal experiences. I have returned home to my birthplace in the coalfields of southern Appalachia. Here, I have undying support from friends who have known me since my schooldays, including my college roommate David Sisk, whom we all know as the funniest human alive. At the advent of my 8th decade on the planet, I could not be more excited. Thank you for your time. May the Peace your higher power delivers to you be as sweet as the Peace the Holy Trinity gives me.
-In your opinion, what is the relationship between cinema and truth?
Everyone says truth in Cinema is 24 frames a second, but to me the truth starts in the script and flaws in characters. That’s what makes everything real, that’s where we can relate to them, and that’s where the drama created. If we just filmed a story with perfect characters nobody would watch. People want to see the real flawed characters, and if you lie to them to market and manipulate you will get backlash as we are currently learning. Good cinema is what people want. When I started out it used to be you couldn’t lie to the camera, but nowadays anyone can make anything with AI. But original characters and stories, that make people’s heart go up, or hold their breath, that’s the stuff you can film and people will watch over and over.
-What kind of change do you hope to inspire in someone who experiences your art?
If anything, I hope to remind them of the American grit. Everyone gets knocked down, get back up sort of thing. I don’t really have an agenda, I just try to make something that everyone will enjoy and makes you feel it in your gut. When I was writing “Brothers of Babylon” I had just started chemo and also fallen and shattered my lower back. My acting days were over and COVID began, I had to do something else. I grew up on a horse ranch in Montana and wanted to write about something going on in the modern era. I took a real problem with the opioid crisis and added in all the real life small town ranch stories I had and tried to make something most people could appreciate. Now I have written a few other features and a ten part one hour action fantasy series, but they all have the good vs evil, and a character that is far from perfect that needs to fix themselves.
-What does the word future mean to you?
To me it’s a hope that we don’t lose as much as we gain. Things are going to move much faster with technology and AI, but we are losing so much of the quality and fearlessness because of streaming and politics. Movies are much easier to make, but we used to make movies we would watch over and over. Oscar winners were movies you would watch every time they were on television, now people barely even watch the Oscar movies cause they aren’t that could. Every decade used to have its own genre of film and we lost that back around 2005, and I haven’t hope that the future will come around and find its new self.
-Briefly describe your creative process. How do you select the ideas that eventually become a screenplay?
I was an actor for 15 years until I got sick, and wrote my first movie while I was going through treatment. I always start by thinking of the main character and the problem. Then I start picturing how I would shoot the scenes in my head, and write them in a notebook. I usually write most of it out long hand, and I use music a lot. I have to find the right music to fit the character to help me write. Then I choose the setting and do research, research helps a lot with ideas, and I work on arch development. But I keep it simple, picture like it’s on the tv and write it out. I tell other writers read real screenplays, most writers write because they can’t act. They don’t know how to make a performance work, but they teach and write books. They know formulas, and algorithms, and marketing, but when they start talking to me about characters psychology I just tell them to take an acting class.
-In your opinion, what is the relationship between cinema and truth?
To claim that cinema reveals some measure of truth about the subjects it addresses would, in my view, be idealistic. It is an art form capable of denouncing or imagining, but also of offering conjectures or proposals. Many films convey a political stance specific to the director—and are thus inherently biased. It is difficult to remain neutral regarding the subject one chooses to depict; there is often—or indeed inevitably—a desire to convey a message, an opinion, or simply a perspective on a situation. Yet, the film does not necessarily hold the truth; it merely presents a personal vision or an apprehension about the near future.
-What kind of change do you hope to inspire in someone who experiences your art?
In my films and screenplays, my primary aim is to convey a message, but I also want the viewer to reflect—to become aware of certain situations and ask themselves what they might change in their own lives, or to realize that people around them are experiencing circumstances like those in the film and consider how they might help. My goal is also to spark a debate, allowing everyone to share their views and discuss how to bring about change. I am very fond of cliffhangers; creating that sense of suspense—that mix of frustration and a burning desire to know what happens next, or even to imagine it—awakens the viewer’s creativity and fosters discussion. My work aims to open minds and encourage dialogue, while also shedding light on realities that are rarely seen on the big screen, whether because they are taboo, as with my film Mauvaise Influence, or simply because the topics are often avoided.
-What does the word future mean to you?
The concept of the “future” is vague to me. Ultimately, anything is possible. Of course, I hope humanity will wake up and find solutions to avoid descending into chaos. I tell myself that new generations will manage to turn things around—finally satisfying everyone and avoiding the repetition of our past mistakes—yet I am sometimes very pessimistic about the fate of our world. I believe that as long as we remain under the control of people over the age of fifty, we will stay trapped in a self-destructive society. Everything needs to be reshaped and rethought if we are to set things right and regain our balance. As for cinema, I hope audiences will continue to show up, that we will be able to speak out or share our perspectives while maintaining a certain freedom, and that those who cannot do so today will be able to tomorrow.
-Briefly describe your creative process. How do you select the ideas that eventually become a screenplay?
It might seem strange, but most of my screenplays—as well as my novel Le souvenir de l’Homme—originate primarily from dreams. My dreams and thoughts are highly visual and cinematic; I can easily envision specific shots and framings I want to capture on screen. Fortunately, I am able to remember them—not necessarily in their entirety, but enough to build a complete story. Of course, I sift through these ideas to ensure coherence, but once I have a story in mind, I need to get it down on paper—almost as if unburdening myself—to allow my creative process to continue. I can also come up with a screenplay idea while watching a program or reading the news; sometimes, a single word is all it takes to open my mind and give free rein to my imagination. I’m not particularly skilled at drawing, but creating a storyboard sketch—or even using reference images—helps me immensely in determining whether a screenplay is credible.
-What is the relationship between cinema and truth?
Director Jean-Luc Godard’s maxim: “Film is truth 24 times a second, and every cut is a lie.” The relationship between cinema and truth foretells the central paradox of the medium. We assume we “go to” the cinema. At the end we “leave” the cinema. The film begins at this point and ends at this point. Between those two points we suspend our disbelief. And then we leave it all behind. Or do we? We leave our reality such as it is, move into a fictional world for a limited time, and then return to reality. But is it the same reality we left? Something has intruded into our prior way of seeing. A dialog between our prior and post worlds or ways of seeing now exists.
-What kind of change do you hope to inspire in someone who experiences your art?
ALTA CALIFORNIA was, for me, a pursuit of the historical truth of “The Mission Era” in California. It began when I, an immigrant, took a class on American History. I soon discovered it was a “history” devoid of natives, women and blacks. In my classes in Europe, we were exposed to history in all its forms, magnificent through bloody. I even grew up in a land, Wales, still under the control of its English neighbors.
Back to my class in California. I set myself a task. I took a moment in California history, ‘Mission Era,” wanting to know the truth. I soon discovered Edward Said’s truth: “History is written by those who win and those who dominate.” This truth came to me recently when I gave a talk to a university class on what I discovered when writing ALTA CALIFORNIA. I began the talk asking one question: Name ONE person from “The Mission Era” OTHER THAN Junipero Serra.No answer from these predominantly California attendees. Not one! Yet all remember building tiny missions in school.
My journey of historical discovery had revealed so much hidden by “those who dominate.” But what to do with this new-found information. I chose the method noted in a native American proverb: “Tell me the facts and I’ll learn. Tell me the truth and I’ll believe. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever.”
I chose story: seeing the “Mission Era” through the eyes of a fictional mixed-blood, seeking his “family” after his mother was slaughtered. I have worked on this screenplay for decades. Finally, the need for an attempt to reveal the historical truth of this period is being demanded. California Assembly Bill 1821, authored by Assemblyman James Ramos of California and signed into law by Governor Newsom, mandates that, beginning January 1, 2025, all schools in California are required to teach the historical truth about the “Mission Era” and the gold rush and its effect upon California’s native peoples.
Briefly describe your creative process. How do you select the ideas that eventually become a screenplay?
I don’t just want to tell a story; my aim is to go beyond who, what, when, and try to discover the WHY of the story. As an immigrant,I love to explore and write, in serious and comic forms, stories of those who, through choice or happenstance, find themselves strangers in a strange land (or even in their own land). I share the immigrants’ attempts to “navigate as safely as possible through an ever-shifting landscape of independent and unpredictable powers” (Alan Jacabs), and the difficulty of coalescing given and adopted values and ways of seeing.
I was born in southern Germany near Munich to Moroccan parents from Marrakech. My creative journey began in music, signing my first record deal with EMI in Milan before living and working in Zurich and later New York, where I gradually fell in love with screenwriting. Today I’m a screenwriter, a mother of twins, and someone who loves telling stories that make people laugh, feel, and think. I write comedies, family adventures, and science-fiction because I don’t think audiences have to choose between entertainment and emotion. The films I love most are the ones that do both. One principle has always guided my writing: the character should never serve the scene; the scene should always serve the character. When I’m not writing, I love cooking for friends, sharing good conversations, and spending time with my family. If people leave one of my films with a smile, a little hope, or simply feeling something genuine, then I’ve done my job.
–Do you remember the exact moment you fell in love with cinema?
My first love wasn’t actually cinema, it was MTV. As a little girl in Germany, there was only about an hour of MTV each day, and I waited impatiently for Michael Jackson and Madonna videos. Looking back, those music videos were my first experience of visual storytelling. Later I watched Schindler’s List, and the girl in the red coat stayed with me forever. Then I discovered Quentin Tarantino and loved the way he broke storytelling rules. When I eventually started producing my own music videos, I realized that what fascinated me most wasn’t being in front of the camera—it was creating the story behind it.
–Tell us about your project, THE SINGER.
THE SINGER actually began during a ski vacation in Austria with my children. I dreamed about a girl who couldn’t sing, woke up, and immediately thought, ‘There’s a story here.’ I never decided to write a science-fiction film. I simply started writing. The world, the characters, and eventually the entire universe revealed themselves step by step. At first it even felt more like a gangster story, and only later did music become the central source of power. My characters usually don’t even have names when I begin. They’re simply ‘the woman,’ ‘the man,’ or ‘the boy.’ I discover who they are while writing, and once I understand what they want, the story starts moving almost by itself. If I had to describe THE SINGER in one sentence, I’d call it a futuristic gangster drama where music becomes the most powerful force of all.
–Which director inspires you the most?
I don’t think I could choose just one. The Duffer Brothers inspire me because of the emotional heart they bring to large-scale storytelling. Shawn Levy has an incredible gift for balancing spectacle with warmth and humanity. Luc Besson has always inspired me with his visual courage, world-building, and unforgettable characters. The filmmakers I admire most remind me that pectacular worlds only matter if we genuinely care about the people living in them.
–What do you dislike about the world, and what would you change?
If I could change one thing, it would be access to education. I believe education is one of the greatest forms of freedom. Knowledge doesn’t tell us what to think—it teaches us how to think. I also believe we sometimes think too big when we talk about changing the world. Real change often begins much closer to home: in our family, among our friends, and within our own Community. If each of us made our own circle a little kinder and more respectful, I believe the world would gradually change with it. As a mother of twins, I have hope. I see a generation growing up that is more connected than any before it. I choose to believe that connection creates understanding, and understanding creates hope. I’m an optimist.
–How do you imagine cinema in 100 years?
I think cinema has always evolved with its audience, and I believe it always will. It’s a bit like music. Every generation has its own sound, and every generation tells stories differently. I imagine films will become faster, more immediate, and more personal because audiences continue to change. Technology will transform filmmaking, just as silent films became sound and black-and-white became color. Artificial intelligence is simply another chapter in that evolution. I’m not afraid of that. Every generation has new tools. What matters isn’t the technology itself—it’s what artists choose to do with it. As long as cinema continues telling deeply human stories, it will never lose its soul.
–What is your impression of WILD FILMMAKER?
To be honest, I’m still discovering WILD FILMMAKER myself, but I’m always grateful for magazines and platforms that give independent filmmakers and storytellers a voice. We often spend years creating in private, so it’s wonderful when there are places that celebrate that work and introduce audiences to new voices. I’m grateful to be part of it.
Blue also seems to stem from a reflection that recalls Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom by Pier Paolo Pasolini, a film that IndieWire ranked as the greatest European film of the 1970s. Pasolini denounced the commodification of the human body by those in power. To what extent did his vision inspire your film?
Salò is one of my all-time favorite films. Its power lies in portraying power for what it truly is, without filters, and to me that is the highest expression of art. Pasolini was certainly a major source of inspiration for me, particularly because of the strength of his visual language and the violence of his storytelling, both of which I consider essential elements of cinema. A film that deals with sensitive issues should shock the audience, it should deliver a slap in the face, while never losing sight of poetry.
Sex and power have always existed on a thin, parallel line. Since the beginning of time, the world has revolved around two fundamental forces: Eros and Thanatos. We pay more attention to a news story, a film, or even a song when it touches on one of these two dimensions.
Speaking of power, erotic content platforms operate on two fundamental levels. First, they promise easy money in a very short time, without revealing the darker side of that world. At first, this creates a sense of empowerment, especially for very young people who suddenly begin earning significant amounts of money. The problem is that they often fail to consider the risks hidden behind this thin veil. Their content is frequently downloaded, shared, and redistributed, ending up in the hands of anyone. Moreover, to keep earning, creators are constantly pushed to raise the stakes and cross new boundaries. Eventually, the line between virtual content creation and actual prostitution becomes increasingly blurred, as online interactions often lead to meeting clients in person. At that point, I don’t see much difference between the two worlds.
The second crucial aspect is that these platforms create a dangerous dissociation between virtual and real life. Many young people believe they are becoming content creators, when in reality they are entering the world of low-budget pornography, with all the risks that come with it. In a professional adult film production there is a crew, a production team, and experienced professionals surrounding the performers. On these platforms, you’re completely alone, in your bedroom, with only a camera pointed at you. When people eventually realize the world they’ve entered, or discover that their explicit videos have been leaked and may even reach family members, the consequences can sometimes be tragic and irreversible.
In Blue, this commodification no longer feels like a warning, it seems to have become an accepted reality. What was it like directing a film that tackles such a timely issue?
It was a genuine journey. When you’re dealing with such a sensitive subject, you have to approach it with respect, and that means truly understanding it through research and immersion. That was the most important part of the process: entering that world.
The work with the actors was extremely intense. I spent a full month preparing with the two lead actresses so they could fully internalize their characters, allowing Luce’s descent into hell, with Vicky acting as a sort of Virgil, to feel authentic, profound, and emotionally truthful.
From a technical standpoint, I was fortunate to work with an outstanding crew. We focused on highlighting the beauty of the human body through lighting and cinematography. Conceptually, I tried not to take a judgmental approach. Blue is meant to serve as a mirror for all those young people who are tempted by this world, warning them about its hidden dangers and the consequences it can ultimately lead to.
Why did you choose to cast Rocco Siffredi? What does he represent, both artistically and narratively, for this project?
The decision was made together with both the producers and the distributor, and for me having Rocco on board has been tremendously rewarding. He proved to be a true professional, deeply committed to his work, and he fully immersed himself in the role of Diego. Rocco is also a very devoted father in real life, and that authenticity naturally comes across on screen. Beyond that, he has firsthand experience of the world the film explores. Being able to discuss these themes with someone who knows that environment so intimately was incredibly valuable to me.
Blue addresses universal themes. Do you believe it has the potential to resonate with international audiences as well?
Absolutely. From a directing standpoint, I wanted to create a film with a classical storytelling style while combining it with a very contemporary editing approach that could speak to audiences across generations.
The film has already been released on streaming platforms in the United States, where it received very positive reviews. It has also become one of the best-selling Italian films internationally in recent years, with distribution in 25 countries.
After Blue, what are your next projects? Will we be seeing you involved in more international productions?
I certainly hope so. At the moment, I’m working on my second feature film. We’re still in the writing phase, and if everything goes according to plan, we should begin shooting next spring.
As for international projects, I do have one in development, and I’m currently waiting for some important responses. My ambition is to make Italian cinema that can truly speak to audiences around the world. Hopefully, we’ll succeed.
I began studying as an actor at the Academy of Performing Arts, Orange County and later moved to San Francisco to study Cinema and Political Science at SFSU. With a lifelong love of freaky animation, subversive genres, and surreal outliers in the film world, I grew to express my voice as a director/ actor in the Bay Area.
Alongside my filmmaking work, I have long been involved in local and national political movements as an advocate, spokesperson, artist, and activist. My political engagement is inseparable from my work as a filmmaker; if anything, it defines my approach to filmmaking, it is how my works speak to the political circumstances of our time. Films like Do the Right Thing (1989) and Fantastic Planet (1973) live close to my heart for these reasons. It’s important to learn from other artists, and I always love connecting with my fellow filmmakers and community. I can be contacted on TikTok, Instagram (@cableservice), and IMDB.
Do you remember the exact moment you fell in love with cinema?
Like all toxic relationships, it was love at first sight for me and cinema. I grew up going to the theaters and learning to express my most complex feelings through film quotes. But it wasn’t really until the COVID-19 lockdown, with no other attachment to the outside world, that I immersed myself in film entirely. Admittedly, I spent more time studying the film catalogues on my TV than I did in Zoom class. Wes Anderson, René Laloux, and Hayao Miyazaki became my peers, and I shared in their works religiously.
Cinema was no longer just an excuse for me to talk with others or share interests; it was my language in which to communicate and share myself in the most honest sense with the world. That love has continued to grow richer and stronger as time goes on, with my first directorial project, Sensus Mori (2025), being the first of many opportunities for me to speak directly to audiences. I hope that maybe there is another lost someone on the other side of the screen who can find their voice through mine. Like the directors I fell in love with in high school, I learned how to blend film, animation, and advocacy in my own cinematic style.
Tell us about your project “Sensus Mori”.
When an elusive society agrees to be interviewed, a journalist must contend with their ideologies or risk falling prey herself. Sensus Mori (2025) is shrouded in banter, oddity, and fantasy; it urges us to question how much we are willing to sacrifice ourselves in pursuit of belonging somewhere or to something. With the divisiveness in our communities, I encourage others to consider what makes us authentically ourselves and be conscious of what we are willing to blindly sacrifice for the approval of others.
An undergraduate SFSU thesis film, Sensus Mori (2025), has thus far screened at 72 festivals across 19 countries. Inspired by the MAGA movement and the submission of the media to government forces, Sensus Mori (2025) speaks about the ridiculous and dangerous layers of political avoidance. This film serves to drive conversation into how cult mentality, ignorance, and boneless media can harm our communities at large. To learn more about Sensus Mori (2025), I encourage everyone to check our Instagram (@sensusmori) to stay up to date with screenings, interviews, and more.
Which Director inspires you the most?
Boots Riley should be on everyone’s mind right now. A Bay Area activist-turned-director, Boots Riley is redefining how we see one another and organize politically through film. With so many creatives willing to be silenced by mainstream media and an oppressive regime, Boots Riley has shown we don’t need to bow to censorship or cower away from our morals. As obvious as this may seem, he’s one of the few really walking the walk. I was fortunate enough to attend the Oakland Premiere of I Love Boosters (2026), a film that embodies Black Surrealism and advocacy through art. This film does not shy away from the cruelty of capitalism under the guise of cultural influence. It’s a must-watch and one of my newfound favorites. Cinema is not dead so long as Mr. Boots Riley is around.
What do you dislike about the world, and what would you change?
I could write a manifesto of what I don’t like about the world and how I would change things. But in the simplest of terms, there is too much division and not enough compromise. I don’t mean left and right either; I mean the oppressed against the oppressing oligarchs. People are going to think differently, so it’s important to look beyond minute differences and collectivize for the bigger picture: unity amongst the working classes and a more fruitful future for everyone.
This kind of future takes work, and we need to be willing to do it. Everyone wants a village, no one wants to be a villager. Nothing will change until that mindset shifts, and I hope my work as a filmmaker can lead us closer to that future.
How do you imagine cinema in 100 years?
I’m an optimist when it comes to the future of cinema. Right now, there’s a lot of fear surrounding AI, studio monopolies, and the pricing out of industry creatives, especially for independent filmmakers like myself. But the truth is, I don’t think any of these will outlive cinema. I think it’s a bump in the road, as with any industry– the difference is cinema is not just any industry. Cinema is culture at its best (and sometimes worst), that’s something that I think will continue to endure and grow with us over the next 100 years, so long as there are human artists to make it and human audiences to love it.
What is your impression of WILD FILMMAKER?
I’m thankful for the platform WILD FILMMAKER has provided for independent creatives to share their stories and connect on a grassroots level. It’s cliché to say, but now more than ever, we need spaces like this to hold authentic conversations with one another for the sake of art, not box office sales. Small creators, particularly women, are being pushed to the fringes of society, and as a result, our voices are being stifled by algorithms and paywalls. Connecting with real cinephiles and creatives like this actively works against these barriers. I imagine that through stories and collaborations shared amongst us, more young artists will realize that their scrappiness and passion are a driving force of cultural influence, not a hindrance. We should be grateful that WILD FILMMAKER will be here to see us through the technological and cultural changes inevitable to come.
