The Duel Within: Crafting Noir and Confronting the Self: An Interview with Carlo Caiazzo

Please tell us a bit about yourself to start. How did you become interested in cinema, and how did you learn it? Did you teach yourself filmmaking, or was it through an academic path?

Cinema has always fascinated me. When I was a child, I remember memorizing entire films. I loved watching movies because they entertained me and kept me glued to the screen. Of course, I didn’t understand what was behind everything I was seeing. I enjoyed the film without thinking about it, but something attracted me, and I didn’t know what it was. I liked acting and “entering the characters” I was imitating. I dressed up like them, trying to resemble them in tone and dialogue.

I began to take an interest in cinema as an art form during my last years of high school. In particular, one of my teachers (who had a degree in film history) helped me develop a passion for this art. Then I started experimenting on my own. I never went to film school. I learned, and I continue to learn, by watching films.

Before making the short film "The Conversation", what other works had you done?

I made a short film called Voices with three of my friends. It was shot with very few resources (not that I have large sets available now) and with a great desire to have fun. It was in black and white and shot with a phone. In a way, it was a kind of “training ground”. We didn’t really know what we were doing, but I remember it with a smile.

After that, I made a short film in English set in the Victorian era (again shot as a one-man crew) called The Covenant, which draws on the atmosphere of German Expressionist films, using three candles as the only source of light. I also have a YouTube channel where, from time to time, I upload small experimental shorts.

Where did the main idea for "The Conversation" come from, and how long did it take to turn it into a screenplay?

The idea for The Conversation was born during a rather complex period in my life, in which I was going through some difficult moments. I felt the need to write only what I was truly feeling. One evening I watched a short film by David Lynch, What Did Jack Do?, and I was struck by the black-and-white atmosphere and the absurdity of the situation. I have always loved Noir and its atmospheres.

At first, I wanted to shoot an interrogation scene in black and white: I already had the atmosphere clearly in mind, but not yet the story. For some time, I had wanted to tell a situation in which the protagonist fights against himself to avoid taking his own life, and I imagined that a Noir atmosphere could be perfect for this kind of story.

The screenplay almost seemed to come on its own: it felt as if I were listening to two people talking and simply transcribing what they were saying. The dialogue was born in a spontaneous way.

In general, when writing a screenplay, how much time do you spend to reach the final result? How many versions do you need to write, and how much time must pass until you're satisfied with the work? Do you have an obsessive approach to writing that lengthens the time and process of screenplay writing?

It depends on the approach I have with the film. If I consider a dialogue I’ve written realistic and not too constructed, I prefer not to rewrite it too much and to preserve its spontaneity. Of course — almost never is the first draft the right one — but I always try not to change the meaning of the lines too radically.

Usually, I let a day or two pass after writing a dialogue or a scene. If the lines don’t sound right, or if there is a lack of coherence between the actions, then I have to go back and make corrections. This often makes the process longer, but in some cases it is crucial for the good outcome of a dialogue.

My way of writing often consists — as I mentioned before — of sitting at a table and listening to the characters talk. I simply transcribe what they say, as if I were in a restaurant and they were sitting at the table in front of me.

Given that the two characters in the story were meant to be two aspects of one person, did you show the dialogues to someone else to ensure their differences? How much time did you spend on dialogue writing?

In fact, the dialogue for this short film — unlike what usually happens — came out while I was shooting some test shots. I had a sheet of paper and I wrote down, little by little, the lines that were coming out of my mouth. While I was rehearsing, I tried to give some kind of “glue” to what I was saying, and the dialogue formed on its own. But I was afraid to shoot it. I felt it was very strong and very harsh.

So I let my mother read it — she was very moved by it and encouraged me to carry it forward and make the film. That convinced me, and I decided to shoot it.

What was the experience like for you playing two different roles? Did you first shoot all the scenes for the first character and then move on to the second? Tell us about the filming process.

It was challenging to portray two people who are identical in appearance but opposite in mentality. But I think each of us has these two characters inside. I simply tried to bring out the “version of myself” that belonged to those moments.

To shoot the scenes, I first filmed all the takes of one character, and then those of the other, without reviewing the result. I only checked that the shot was in focus and the light was right. For the rest, I tried to maintain a slightly “mysterious” approach.

This made the work more complex, but also faster, and it helped me to enter both characters. I would read what the other “version of myself” was supposed to reply, and I answered accordingly, as if I were really looking him in the face.

Since "The Conversation" is a film that you wrote, directed, and acted in yourself, what risks did you face? Didn't you think that this approach would pose many dangers to your work?

Obviously, it is never easy to make a short film on your own. There are many risks. If you act badly, it means you are directing yourself badly. The cinematography depends on you, just like all the other technical and non-technical aspects. And if even one of these elements fails, you can easily compromise the film.

You have to trust yourself, at least a little. I believe that when you work alone, as in this case, it’s as if you split yourself and change roles each time: sometimes you are the director, sometimes the DoP, and sometimes the actor. It is certainly a tiring and risky process, but at the same time extremely satisfying.

The topic you chose for "The Conversation" is a highly challenging and serious one. Do you think society is ready enough to confront this topic?

Society must be ready to face a subject like this. We cannot hide from it. It is an important and increasingly worrying issue. Cases are increasing, and people are understandably afraid.

I believe it is essential to raise awareness about such a harsh and current topic, in the hope that the message will be understood and that as many people as possible can be helped. I don’t know how many people the message I tried to convey will actually reach — but if even one person feels less alone, then I will have achieved my goal.

If you were to make this film again, what things would you not do, and what things that you didn't do would you do?

I wouldn’t change much, except for small technical corrections and some adjustments to the coherence between certain lines. I might add a few shots and rewrite small parts of dialogue to strengthen the coherence of some passages — but overall, I wouldn’t change much if I had to shoot it

again.

What is the main theme of the film "The Conversation"?

The main theme is the confrontation with oneself at a moment that may seem like a point of no return. In reality, even when we believe we can no longer go on, there will always be a voice inside our head that grabs us by the shoulders and shakes us. It won’t always be pleasant — but it will save us. We just have to listen to it.

Given the film's references to the noir genre, please tell us about the reason for choosing this style.

Noir has always fascinated me for its cold, dark and tense atmospheres, and this seemed like the perfect setting for an inner dialogue in which the tension can be cut with a knife.

What I wanted to achieve by drawing inspiration from Noir was exactly this: the rain, the thunder, the firm and steady direction — everything that could help visualize the darkness that a person suffering emotionally perceives every day. And what better genre than Noir?

Your film is a very attractive visual experience; tell us about how you achieved this accomplishment.

I have always been fascinated when a director chooses to make the audience aware that they are watching a film. In the right stories, this can be much more powerful than invisible direction.

Here I wanted the viewer to be fully aware that they were watching a film, so I stripped the story of everything that could add realism. At various moments in the short, I deliberately look into the camera to tell the viewer: “Yes, you are watching a film, and I know it — but there is something here for you as well.”

I used only one artificial light that harshly illuminates the faces, and I never hide it. I wanted to give the film a structure that I would describe as “post-theatrical”. I wanted to isolate the two characters. Everything else is superfluous. What matters are the two characters and the table — nothing else.

Is making short films a stepping stone for you to reach feature-length films? Is your ultimate intention to make a feature film?

I don’t know what I will make in the future. I am currently finishing a short film inspired by the Nouvelle Vague, while maintaining that theatrical tone that I love. I don’t know whether I will make a feature film, or continue making short films and eventually stop.

What interests me is creating stories and telling them, regardless of their length. I don’t know what I will do or how I will do it — but I know that I will do it.

For you, is acting more serious, or directing films?

I have always been more fascinated by directing than acting. I don’t deny that both disciplines are challenging and that both worlds are fascinating, but I much prefer directing something — creating it and shaping it the way I have it in my mind. I feel more at home behind the camera.