Many call Rome “the eternal city”; casually walking past nearly 2,000-year-old buildings like the Colosseum or the Pantheon is probably a fair argument that it lives up to the title. Everything is massive in Rome — both in scale and in the historical rootedness of these constructs. 

Every year, tourists who seek this sense of grandeur visit the city, and even the brutal European heatwave in these last couple of years can’t seem to stop them. Pilgrims who seek a more divine kind of grandeur huddle together in front of the Vatican, but religious or not, all the lucky people who can get inside the art gallery can agree that the paintings, frescoes, and statues that surround them are indeed otherworldly. 

In more abstract terms, I shared some philosophies and intentions with these different kinds of visitors—if you take it that my pilgrimage to Rome this year was inherently fueled by cinephilia. 

Organized by the Piccolo America Foundation, Il Cinema in Piazza is the name for the outdoor screening series where filmgoers in Rome are treated to free film screenings in three different venues every night. When I saw the line-up for a special event called “5 Carte Blanche Picks,” I flew out of my seat to start looking for flight tickets because, really, it seemed like the place to be. So, they’re gonna let Hideo Kojima (Death Stranding), Gaspar Noé (Irreversible), Nicolas Winding Refn (Drive), and my biggest filmmaking hero, Dario Argento (Suspiria) program and introduce whatever films they want for 3 days? A no-brainer. 

I stayed at a modest bed-and-breakfast which was so modest that the breakfast portion happened outside of the actual place. However, the bakery I was redirected to actually delivered on the two things promised on the coupon: cappuccino and cornetto (arguably, a sweeter kind of croissant). I was surprised at how quickly this minimalist breakfast was consumed, with some customers simply enjoying it over the counter while standing. 

Before I dedicated my precious time in Rome to watching films all day, I thought I’d still take a chance at speedrunning all the tourist-populated must-see landmarks. The highlight was my trip to the Profondo Rosso Store, where I chatted with Starcrash director Luigi Cozzi and visited the museum of horror downstairs, filled with memorabilia from films like Demons, Phenomena, Opera, and more.

“It’s gratifying that fare evasion isn’t a Toronto exclusive,” I thought, judging by the disapproving faces of the other passengers on the bus who looked at me as if I was committing a crime trying to pay the fare for my trip. Unfortunately, I learned about this blessing way too late on my last day. Before that, I had only walked to my destinations for 3 days — my step count hit an all-time high on July 4th with 27,474 steps. Whatever. I take pride in being a chronic walker. 

Audiences who came to see the opening film, Lux Aeterna, were surprised by director Gaspar Noé casually signing stuff at the door. He didn’t seem to mind the crowd, and perhaps even enjoyed it, which wouldn’t come as a surprise given how his technical showmanship (the choreography and long take in Climax) suggests that he would much rather have people looking at him rather than turning away. The name Gaspar Noé is often associated with shock — but my biggest shock was realizing that I’m taller than him. 

Before the screening began, I took in the atmosphere of Cinema Troisi: its red seats, black walls, and the unusual silence of its audience, when Dario Argento, unprompted, walked in — who was in good spirits and shape despite his age. It was hard not to admire how he still had enough enthusiasm for cinema to see his friend’s film (and collaborator from Vortex). 

My assumption that all the films would be in their original language with Italian subtitles proved true. Luckily, I can understand enough Italian from middle school and my love for Italian comics, fumetti. By chance, though, only two of the films in the span of the 3 days had English as their original language, so I thought my brain would be all worked up at the end of the vacation. 

However, when the Japanese horror film Jigoku played that night at Piazza di San Cosimato (with an introduction by video game developer and unabashed film buff Hideo Kojima), I was reminded that cinema itself, through its visual storytelling and certain genre traits, is a universal language. 

The film, following the aftermath of a hit-and-run and the characters’ eventual descent into (literal) hell, still spoke to me clearly in how director Nobuo Nakagawa uses every frame like a canvas, expressionistically displaying character psychology through the artifice of the heightened visual style; with similar themes of guilt and morality being explored like in the 50s EC comics despite the unmistakable cultural flavor. 

Something I was looking forward to was Nicolas Winding Refn’s polarizing new film, Her Private Hell, followed by a mystical Q&A with Dario Argento also participating. It’s no surprise that Argento would like this film, because as he himself said, there’s a part of him in it. 

Refn’s film may come off as an absolutely puzzling experience given that it barely resembles what we consider a conventional narrative. Refn recounted that after his heart stopped and he came back to life again, he “didn’t know what a film was anymore.” He later confessed his addiction to scrolling as a factor that molded the film into the way it is, as what he thinks “a film in the future might look like.” 

The film seemingly refuses to commit to a singular storyline, tone, or genre; it’s a moodboard of a cinephile displaying his obsessions without filter. Nevertheless, the sensation is different from the dopamine hit of scrolling through reels, as Refn’s droning style is more about letting moments stuck in time be taken in sensorily and patiently. One way to take it in is like the guy sitting next to me who was having the nap of his life. 

Despite all the record-number walkouts at Cannes before that, when Refn and Argento came on stage for the Q&A, a standing ovation followed. It’s worth noting that Kojima and Noé were also in the audience, and how great a reminder it was that they are film fans just like us. Was that the theme they sought out when they called up these four artists? Auteurs who are also unbreakable cheerleaders for cinema? 

After the Q&A for Her Private Hell ended, I ran up to Refn and asked him if he liked the films of Herschell Gordon Lewis. He replied, “Who doesn’t?” So I gave him my zine about the pioneer of gore films. “Ha! Herschell,” he said while flipping through the pages.

Then, with my entire body shivering, I walked up to Dario Argento, who was already engulfed by fans. After years of admiring his work, I couldn’t even fathom the idea of being next to him. 

What do you say in such a situation without sounding creepy? I’ve read your autobiography 3 times? Def not. So, I settled with the one modest and honest sentence I managed to utter: that I had flown from Turkiye to see him while handing him my Blu-ray of Trauma to be signed.

After that, he stopped signing things. Turned to me. Argento stared directly into my soul, eyes wide open and his smile showing his gums. He graced me with one word that seemingly came from the depths of his throat: “Bene.”

So many of Dario Argento’s films are about the deceptiveness of memory. Both The Bird with the Crystal Plumage and Deep Red centre on eyewitnesses to murder — but it’s how their memory reconstructs the scene that leads their investigations astray. 

Every now and then, I’ve also felt to what degree my memories are reproductions of moments that I’ve had. It’s not that these images stick to the retina as they do in 4 Flies on Grey Velvet (which I saw for the 4th time at a midnight screening there). 

But that image of Argento smiling at me I couldn’t seem to get out of my head for days, even when I saw one of my favorite films at the top of a mountain the other day, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly or when I was flying back home. Spending those few days with these giants of cinema felt very… Rome? 

Fellini once said cinema is almost a “religious” experience, and there was certainly a sense of grandeur that accompanied the screenings. There’s definitely a mystique surrounding these filmmakers, like the legendary status of the city itself. And “hanging out” with them for a couple of days was strangely humbling — in how one can familiarize oneself anew and test their hypothesis about these personalities.