Three people live together without having anything to do with each other. The macho father used to have a shooting gallery which he had to sell. Yet secretly, he keeps on dreaming about it.
When in September 1982, after the trial of the young murderer, I first entered the house where the murder had taken place, I was overwhelmed by horror. Behind the dirty and broken windows, suspicious glances appeared, a filthy kid was sleeping in the shade of the only existing tree, and beyond the mosquito nets, shadows were flickering in the half-light. The heavy silence that reigned in this place destroyed all my reflexes as a curious and self-confident filmmaker. I began to sweat. It wasn’t fear that paralyzed me, but the immediate sensation that, in this place, one could only kill; I too could have done the same thing. I felt that grace was absent from this place, that the Grand Inquisitor existed for me but not for the young murderer, and that horror was deeply buried in him, perhaps in me too, in us, and that it could not be transformed into morality. I certainly had difficulty understanding indifference and crime, but what emanated from it touched me. I had to run away from this place. In silence, I went out to the square where the assassin’s friends, his companions in distress, were riding their motorcycles. We observed each other for a long time, then I returned to the house knowing that I would ask questions, perhaps babbling and trembling, but that I would make this film because I wanted to, in order to settle scores with myself and with them. I hope this film will touch them as a moment of grace. – Arpad Sopsits
695MB | 1h 24m | 576×432 | mkv