I’ve spent most of my life observing humanity with the same expression one uses when reading a map upside down, fascinated, confused, and quietly wondering who designed this whole system.
People say life is simple, but I’ve never met a human who behaves accordingly.
We love, fear, contradict ourselves, and then insist everything is under control.
It never is.
And that’s exactly why I make films.
I’m drawn to the small, fragile moments, the ones nobody performs for.
A hesitation, a breath, a silence that says more than dialogue ever could.
To me, these tiny details are where the soul hides, usually because it’s embarrassed by everything else we do.
I’ve lived in places where the mountains speak louder than the people, and in cities where everyone talks but nobody listens.
Somehow, every landscape becomes a mirror: sometimes comforting, sometimes unforgiving, occasionally providing unsolicited philosophical advice.
Through it all, I’ve learned that humans are wonderfully absurd creatures, tragic and tender, cruel and kind, often within the same sentence.
Cinema is the only space where I can analyze this absurdity without anyone suggesting therapy.
It gives me a space to question everything: why we chase power, why we run from pain, why memory clings to us like a stubborn cat, why beauty appears in the most inconvenient moments.
I’m not searching for answers anymore; I’m collecting better questions.
If my films share a common thread, it’s the belief that our flaws make us human, and our contradictions make us interesting.
We are all a bit lost, some of us simply hide it better with a good hat.
I make films to make sense of people, even though they rarely make sense.
I make them because stories reveal the truth we avoid.
I make films because I need to.
And because, despite the chaos, I still believe in the quiet beauty of a single gesture, a single glance, a single moment where a character, or a person, shows who they truly are.
If these films help someone feel a little less alone in this beautifully complicated world, then every sleepless night arguing with invisible characters was worth it.
Paolo Di Maio.