In 1993, my first documentary was about the civil war in
In 1993, my first documentary was about the civil war in Algeria. That was in French and in Arabic. Another short film I did was silent. What I'm trying to say is that, yes, I'm Italian, and yes, I make films with Italian money, but personally, I've always been invested in the broader world of film-making.
The words of Luca Guadagnino — “In 1993, my first documentary was about the civil war in Algeria. That was in French and in Arabic. Another short film I did was silent. What I'm trying to say is that, yes, I'm Italian, and yes, I make films with Italian money, but personally, I've always been invested in the broader world of film-making.” — are the words of an artist reaching beyond the narrow walls of nationality into the vast horizon of human experience. They remind us that the work of the true creator is not bound by borders, languages, or flags, but is carried by the eternal current of human truth.
To begin his journey with the civil war in Algeria was to enter directly into the heart of suffering and resilience. Guadagnino’s choice was not to speak first of the safe and familiar, but of conflict, of people wrestling with life and death, with history and identity. By filming in French and Arabic, he showed that the art of cinema speaks in many tongues, and that the storyteller must honor the voices of the people whose stories he carries. Even his silent film echoes this truth — that sometimes words are not needed, for images alone can pierce the heart more deeply than speech.
The meaning of his confession is clear: though Italian by birth and though nourished by Italian resources, Guadagnino’s spirit is not confined to one land. He belongs to what is greater — the broader world of film-making, a realm where stories transcend frontiers, and where the sorrows of Algeria, the poetry of France, and the silences of humanity become as much his as the landscapes of his own homeland. To him, cinema is a universal tongue, a temple where all peoples may gather to witness the mystery of life.
History offers us examples of such visionaries. Consider Akira Kurosawa of Japan, whose samurai epics inspired Western gunslingers; or Federico Fellini of Italy, whose dreamlike visions reached the hearts of viewers across oceans; or Satyajit Ray of India, whose tales of poverty and dignity resonated from Calcutta to New York. Like Guadagnino, these artists did not see themselves as bound within a single culture. They spoke from their roots, yes, but their roots grew into branches that shaded the entire world. Such is the calling of true artistry — to carry the essence of one’s home into the heart of all humanity.
The lesson of Guadagnino’s words is not only for artists but for all who live in a world that grows ever closer. Do not let the accident of birthplace limit the expanse of your vision. Yes, honor your heritage, but do not mistake heritage for prison. Learn other languages, hear other voices, tell other stories. For the truth of humanity is not found in one people alone, but in the chorus of many, each singing their part of the eternal song.
What, then, must we do? We must seek to be citizens not only of our nations, but of the world. In our work, in our art, in our dealings with others, we must look beyond the narrow circle of self and nation. Support stories not only of your own people, but of those far from you. Listen to the voices of the oppressed, the forgotten, the silenced. And when you create, create not only for those who share your tongue, but for all who share your humanity.
Thus let Guadagnino’s words endure as a beacon: to be rooted in one place, but to belong to all places; to be born into one tongue, but to speak the language of many; to begin in Italy, but to carry the whole world in your lens. This is the destiny of the artist, and it may be the destiny of all of us — to live not as captives of borders, but as heirs of humanity’s common story.
GNThu Giang Nguyen
Luca Guadagnino's reflection on filmmaking and his commitment to global storytelling speaks volumes about his versatility as an artist. His use of different languages and formats, like silent films, shows his openness to experimenting and expanding boundaries. This raises an important question: Can filmmakers effectively create art that is universally understood while still holding onto their cultural identity, or is there always a balance to strike between the two?
KV45-le khanh vy
Guadagnino’s comment about his first documentary in multiple languages and his dedication to global cinema is thought-provoking. It seems that, for him, filmmaking isn’t just about making films with local funding but also about creating art that speaks to a larger audience. What role does multiculturalism play in the creative process? Can an artist ever fully detach from their roots, or does the intersection of culture and identity always influence their work?
AAmma
I find it interesting how Guadagnino points out the balance between his Italian heritage and his global approach to filmmaking. His early work, such as the documentary on the Algerian civil war, demonstrates a willingness to tackle complex, international subjects. But does this mean that all filmmakers should be exposed to a variety of cultures and perspectives? How much does an artist’s background influence their ability to tell stories that resonate beyond their own culture?
TTthang tran
Guadagnino’s statement highlights the intersection of personal identity and artistic expression. As an Italian filmmaker, he acknowledges his cultural roots but emphasizes his commitment to the global world of cinema. His choice to work on films in different languages and formats seems to reflect a desire to communicate across borders. How important is it for artists to remain connected to their heritage while engaging with a broader, more universal language of art?
TLTran Linh
Luca Guadagnino's reflection on his work and global approach to filmmaking is insightful. It’s fascinating how he embraces both Italian roots and a broader perspective in his art. His mention of films in French and Arabic, as well as a silent short film, shows a commitment to diverse storytelling. This makes me wonder: Can filmmakers truly separate their national identity from their work, or does their culture always influence their approach to filmmaking?