We're at the last red carpet, but the red is more bright than ever. Bright like the personality of Arthur Jafa and Greg Tate, bright like the inspiration of Asif Kapadia in telling a gigantic and cumbersome life like that of Diego Maradona, bright like the charm of a wonderful Francesca Cavallin. Bright like the fear of Roberto De Feo's debut. Bright like the eyes of Fredi Murer, the splendid Pardo alla carriera of Locarno72 that flooded the square with its simplicity, as true as its cinema, so clean as to seem a magic.
