Life is like a swing ride. It makes you feel like you're flying and never want to get off.
Luce Cinecittà
Life is like a swing ride. It makes you feel like you're flying and never want to get off. Or at least that’s the case with Benedetta. When she meets Amanda, she can’t help but join her on her roaming journey.
“Little Billy's mother was always telling him exactly what he was allowed to do and what he was not allowed to do. All the things he was allowed to do were boring. All the things he was not allowed to do were exciting. One of the things he was NEVER NEVER allowed to do, the most exciting of them all, was to go out through the garden gate all by himself and explore the world beyond.”
R. Dahl, Billy and the Minpins
This film is a fairy tale. Meaning: playing with reality.
When I was a child, I could tell the difference between a fable and a fairy tale. I’ve always found fables to be a bit sad and dull, with their inevitable moral at the end of the story. A fairy tale feels like an expanding universe, constantly growing in size, collecting any scattered element found unattended: nonsensical items, unusual characters, fascinating - yet a little disturbing - places. A fairy tale gathers it all and doesn’t try to decode it: it just relays it to you. It’s a never-ending journey of discovery that nobody explains. You are the only one who knows. When I read the script of Swing Ride, my first impression was of a fairy tale as black as a forest, brightened by a glittered path.
Note by director Chiara Bellosi