We worked on Flying Lessons for a very long time. I had to conduct three extensive inspections to find good locations suitable for the film and the characters. I traveled thousands of miles, met with the missions of “Doctors without Borders,” and visited orphanages, hospitals and stations in order to gain insight into this unfathomable population. It was a long journey in many senses.

I do not consider it a tale about India because, in spite of everything, one can never fully understand it. Nor is it a story of existential discovery, which is what India tends to call to mind because of its spiritual and psychedelic imagery. It is the story of a long voyage and, like any long journey, it becomes a turning point between what you were and what you have become.

Like my other films, it strives for realism yet is also imbued with a classic romantic structure. I try to achieve the impression of truth with a setting and staging that make you forget that there is a director. The romance of the narrative structure and the range of the characters attempt to give the audience a glimpse of the hand that destiny plays. I tried to push the script – beloved words on paper – to spar and parry with the scenes. Likewise, the characters must be viewed through their profound “fusion” with the actors. Chiara could not exist without Giovanna, nor could Curry without Tom or Pollo without Andrea.

Moreover, India does not merely serve as a backdrop. My Indian assistant directors revealed the meaning of every gesture and every custom. They didn’t merely translate what was said to me, but explained the importance of all that was left unsaid. They were amazed by our way of shooting a film, as they have a great tradition of shooting in sound stages and studios. It was a vibrant exchange of methods. They asked me for explanations of the story, the characters and our Western ways, raising questions such as “Who are these boys?” and “To you, is it so negative that they have no ambitions?” Indeed, I find myself wondering: “Is it?”
Should we really be so worried if those who will take our place are not interested in attaining a high position? Should we really worry that they might give up competition and, instead, experience friendship, love, clashes with the reality and encounters with death?

I realize that the questions may seem stupid, and that most of them will remain unanswered. In my opinion, however, the only possible solution lies within each person’s sense of right and wrong, and in the struggle faced by each character – and each viewer – to find his or her own set of answers.

Rio Film Festival 2007
Best Fiction Feature