Snakes

A man enters a police station to confess that he has just killed his wife. It is not the setup of a joke but the opening of this film, which immediately veers into the absurd. The sort of police station and courtroom escapades that seem to go on forever. Up the stairs, down the stairs, wait here, the inspector’s out of the office, there’s a queue and a priority system here, what do you think you’re doing? (when they leave you in a small room for hours). Paolo Marra – played by Leonardo Lidi, his face impassive from start to finish – walks out after killing his wife. It happened at home. On an ordinary day. Now he’s overcome by guilt – that weight you feel afterwards, never before: yet even a little remorse, however small, would suffice – and he wants to turn himself in. He walks towards the police station, asks to be let in to confess to the murder of his wife, and they sit him down on a chair. There is certainly no crowd around; an officer passes by now and then. For example, Alessandro Borghi, who listens to him. But then they have to wait for the superior officer. Another wait. They tell him he must have a solicitor, and they arrange for a court-appointed one – Pietro Castellitto, who meets him in the nearby bakery. Serpenti is written by Roberto De Paolis Maino and the brothers Damiano and Fabio d’Innocenzo with crystal-clear simplicity, without convoluted plots or embellishments, and directed with equal directness – though by now the yellowish walls are reminiscent of Backrooms. It was screened at the Venice Film Festival, a breath of fresh air amidst so many pretentious films.