Alex Infascelli
H2Odio

Regardless of the positive or otherwise (subjective) value attribution regarding the film (in this specific case it is appropriate to refer exclusively to the H2O-atic video-disc-digital support), subjected to our merely private ophthalmic scrutiny, it is necessary to acknowledge a certain commendable foresight for the ethical choice as well as technical-merchandise-production made by the now semi-young (forty-year-old) filmmaker from the capital.

Spectrally supported by the acoustically arpeggiated and monochromatic soundtrack generated by the versatile Steve Von Till (Neurosis and sound-apocalyptic family related) and iconographically represented by the very unique hand-drawn style of young Armenian artist Ana Bagayan, for his third endeavor over a long distance behind the camera *, dating back to the middle of last year, "our" disheveled Alessandro cheerfully bypasses the usual (pachydermic and often €uro-wasting) domestic cinema distribution channels; to achieve this, "our" trusty Vee-Jay creates an ad hoc distribution company ** creating (I believe) the first film in Italy specifically made and made available for external perception through exclusive distribution in daily newspapers et similia, moreover thanks to an agreement with the weekly group "L'espresso" and the relative newspaper "La Repubblica"; the ultimate intent (apart from specific advertising ones) of the operation should be to attempt to prune the very high production/distribution costs, while ensuring a (more) effective and widespread dissemination, granting an additional chance for enjoyment to potentially cinema-interested individuals through the direct/domestic perception of cinematic works.

Smoothly bypassing to the water-infused film (as I would be making it far too long), I would personally dare to uphold a laconic (hoping that the gentle Mademoiselle zzzzzzzzzzzz does not fall ill): in a nutshell.

In other words: although the mountain does not seem to have precisely given birth to the urbanized and harmless little mouse, it also seems to glimpse on the horizon a healthy and hearty suburban rat.

Even though it appears in its structural entirety as a work that is overall not to be disdained and also of significantly more intriguing caliber compared to the much-discussed debut of several seasons ago ["Almost Blue" provided unexpected satisfactions to the stateless Alex], "H2Odio" on one hand pleasantly intrigues for the audacity of certain unusual imaginative and plot-making options and for the understandable/commendable capacity to want to break free from the unfortunate/stale classic standards of the golden-mediocre medium-tricolor cinema to which (alas) we are increasingly accustomed, on the other hand, one feels the sensation that it tends to want to equilibristically handle (sometimes in an elementary/questionable manner) a pseudo-experimental immaterial (in this specific case it's a drama with ashen metaphysical horror tints) of which it does not possess the total, adequate and effective cine-brain-manual skill.

In such a hectic cinematic canvas, a sort of superficial introspection seems to hover, which leans towards the provisioning of viewing but by self-precautionarily equipping with a very classic film-clip and/or celluloid tongs.

It goes without saying: a work highly recommended for the teetotalers and/or the health-conscious drinkers of warbling (though bottled) water.

* if he had positioned himself in front we would otherwise not have seen a blessed thing;

** "la 52 s.r.l., born", according to explicit declaration of the director himself "with the intent of revolutionizing the traditional schemes of cinema and television distribution, to optimize the distribution course of any audiovisual content, according to exploitation methods that can maximize its market yield";