In Conversation: ‘Primavera’ Writer and Director Damiano Michieletto

by Emma Batterman

Taking place in 18th century Venice, Primavera (2025) centers on Cecilia (Tecla Insolia), a deftly talented violinist living in an orphanage specializing in musical education, who soon finds herself under the tutelage of now-famed composer Antonio Vivaldi (Michele Riondino). Desperate for professional validation, the battered and soft-spoken Vivaldi locks onto Cecilia’s raw talent. It’s not long before the walls of the orphan’s sheltered existence begin to crumble as her relationship with the ailing virtuoso blooms into an unstoppable force of musical fervor. Channeling the destructive passion of Amadeus (1984) but with a feminist twist, Italian writer-director Damiano Michieletto’s debut film is a beautifully nuanced perspective on the patriarchal reality of a young girl’s ambitious desire for freedom. We had a chance to sit down with Michieletto during the 61st Chicago International Film Festival to discuss the film’s evolution and how his background as one of the most acclaimed opera directors of his generation helped shape his vision.

You’re obviously a very accomplished opera director. What drew you to filmmaking and why did you decide to adapt this story in particular for your directorial debut?  

Well, honestly, I’ve always been thinking about directing a movie. It has always been in my mind. But then, when I was younger, I started working in theater and opera—that was like a machine, one production after another. It was very engaging for me. But, film was there. I kept it alive by being a spectator. So, watching films and asking myself, “If one day you wanted to do a film, what would you do?” And then, the producer of Indigo Film—the company that was [Primavera’s] producer—they have their office right in front of the opera theater in Roma, on the same street. Apparently they came to see a production of mine. I didn’t know. They contacted me saying, “Have you ever thought to direct a movie? Because your work on stage is very cinematographic.” And then I said, “Yeah, let’s do it, let’s try!” So, they said, “If you have an idea, just come to us and we will see.” 

I thought of this story about Vivaldi being a teacher in the orphanage—which is a historic fact. I read the novel by Tiziano Scarpa, Stabat Mater. He created this fictional story about Vivaldi meeting a girl, a pupil. The novel is very theatrical, I would say. It’s a kind of inner monologue of the girl. We took the novel and we opened, created, and broadened it with film, basically. That was the inspiration. Something which is still connected with my work, because it’s about music, but at the same time, it’s a feature film—nothing to do with the staging and all of that.

You mentioned your opera productions were cinematic. How do you think your work as an opera director lended itself to your work as a film director? Was there any unique vision you had that you contrived from your past experience in opera? Or was this a whole new experience?

Many things were new. I would say the most important is the work with the camera, which you don’t have when you direct an opera. But, the experience of working on the stage—it’s very important, because you learn how to deal with the complexity of many things at once. It’s like a big set. You have the chorals, you have the master of the chorals, the light designer, the choreographer, the video designer, the soloist, the high dresser—it’s this chaotic situation that I’ve been trained in. So, when I was facing the [film] set, I was very relaxed. I said, “Well, it’s the same, so let’s enjoy it.”

I was very lucky to have a great team around me. It’s also the same when you work in opera. It’s about the director, yes, but it’s about the team of people working with you. So, in the film, I have a very great relationship with the director of photography, the editor, the composer of the music . . . we really work together as a team. That makes the process very, very enjoyable. Very light.

I can imagine that lends itself very well to a film set.

Same! Especially in the staging. Everybody was surprised because I was very quick when the actors came and we had a scene with a group of people. I was very quick to fix the positions, the movement. I said to myself, “But this is what I’ve been doing for 25 years! I know how to do that.” 

I took more time with how to use the camera. But, I also remembered a quote from Quentin Tarantino, who says something like 50mm or 35mm is not so important when you are working. Don’t give in to all that shit . . . [laughs] which is not shit, but it’s important that you have a vision. You need to know where you want to go and how to bring the people with you to go in that direction. I took his quote seriously. I had no problem saying, “I don’t know about 35mm or 50mm, you tell me what you think is better!” We try them, and then I say if it’s okay with my vision. That was the process. Everybody felt very engaged, very responsible. I have a beautiful memory of those seven weeks on set.

You were saying earlier music is a vital aspect of this film, being partially centered around Antonio Vivaldi and his compositions. However, I understand there are original compositions in the film as well.

Yeah, to double level.

I was wondering if you had a heavy hand in that, or did you leave that to the composer? As an opera director, I’m sure you have a lot of background knowledge that would lend to the original compositions, but I was wondering about your level of involvement there.

The composer, Fabio Capogrosso, is a great talent and a beautiful person. We were very connected in the work. I was very involved in the musical process. It was a constant exchange of we could do this; no, let’s do that; send me this; I don’t like this; hm, the first 20 seconds are good, then I don’t like it; I like just the final 10 seconds. It was like a tennis match. He was very, very reactive. I was very clear from the beginning, all the music that was played by the girls is Vivaldi. All the music that we hear, like [non-diegetic] background music, this is new, this is Fabio Capogrosso. I think it’s very clear and also reinforces the fact that this is not a biopic of Vivaldi. It’s not, and I didn’t want to frame the story completely in Venice’s 18th century. I want to create a dialogue with our contemporary feeling. And so, having the music of Vivaldi, plus having a lot of music which is not Vivaldi, which is Fabio Massimo Capogrosso—but with these kind of links. The music that he composed, the orchestration, is with strings, so it’s very similar to Vivaldi. We don’t have electric guitar or something crazy, you know? We stay in that atmosphere.

Think of the scene with the King of Denmark, playing with the girls. That’s his composition, which is totally personal and new. I really like that, because it gives to a film, I think, a structure that is connected with today.

I agree. I think it blends really well with all these compositions. When you mentioned all the strings the girls are playing are just Vivaldi—you can tell there’s a hard start and there’s a hard stop. Whereas, I think, the original soundtrack kind of blends into the moments of the film. 

I was very moved by the story, especially by Cecilia. I know you said this was loosely based on Stabat Mater, but I understand it deviates a little bit. I was wondering if you could explain the creative decisions you made when you were adapting the story, and why you decided to do a looser adaptation rather than a one-to-one, faithful adaptation.

Well, it was a very simple decision for me, because the novel does not have enough ingredients to make a movie. The novel focuses on the encounter between Vivaldi and Cecilia and develops bits of storytelling—but then it’s really focused on Cecilia’s thoughts, her letters that she writes to her mother. It’s a kind of inner monologue, a dialogue between her and her imaginary mother. Which makes the story perfect, for example, if you want to create a theatrical monologue. But, if you want to create a film of one hour and 45 minutes then you have to—at least from my point of view—have more ingredients of things that are happening. 

So, we took some scenes that are present in the book, but the figure of Vivaldi in the book is very different from ours. In the book he’s more like a father, more calm, and more mature somehow. And [in the film], I wanted to have somebody who is really in crisis, fighting for his voice. That way there is a connection between the two of them, no? A lot of scenes had to be created. Creating a conflict with Andreas San Fermo, the man [Cecilia] has to marry, the violence that he does at the end—all this was not present in the story. In the story, she still leaves, but it was quite sudden. I felt as though it was not cooked enough to arrive [at that point]. I thought we needed to create a more developed story around her, and this is what I did with Ludovica Rampoldi, the screenwriter.

I liked the parallels between Vivaldi and Cecilia.

Yeah, both have problems with their mothers . . . Vivaldi has been forced to be a priest because of his mother’s decision, which is based off his true story. He’s struggling to find—no—to be recognized by the audience. Both of them have this language of music. They are not able to speak to each other with words. In fact, there are very few scenes where they really are. They are not talkative. It’s more about how their music speaks instead of their words.

I think there is an active thread of feminist commentary throughout the story. You displayed the weight of the patriarchal standards that these girls in this orphanage experience. I was wondering if you were actively thinking about that while making this film, or if that was the consequence of the adaptation?

No, that was a point—I would say a crucial point to present to the audience from the beginning.

I thought it was very nuanced, too. When I was watching it, I was really worried Vivaldi was going to try and court Cecilia in some way. But, I think their relationship is a lot more complex than that.

From the beginning, we wanted to avoid the love story, the sexual things, the strange relation where maybe the teacher can take advantage over the pupil—from day one, I said, “I don’t want that. This is not my story. I don’t want to do that.”

You know, there are other novels like the Tiziano Scarpa book using the same story of Vivaldi being a teacher, and some of them go into that direction. It becomes kind of a sexual prostitution thing. I wanted to stay very strict in the reality. I spoke with a [historian] who was an expert of [this time period]. [The orphans] have three possibilities in the future: One, they could be musicians throughout their life, staying in the orphanage to play; Second, very few of them could have the possibility to be married to somebody, as you see in the film—but it was just a few of them that could have this opportunity; Third, they could be nuns. At one point they would say, “Okay, I want to go in a convent.” That’s it. 

So, there’s no, “Yeah! Let’s dream something else!” That’s the reality. The character of the prior, she keeps the rule and makes the girls stay inside this frame, because that’s the reality. This relation with Vivaldi is more human, a spiritual relation. They are like two animals smelling each other. But, there is also contrast. We didn’t want to throw the story in what you would expect to be the most obvious thing. 

I read that you talked a little bit about Venice having a unique history that lends itself to the characters in the story. I was wondering if you could expand on that.

I know Venice quite well. It’s the city where I did my schooling, my university, and I work a lot in La Fenice Theater, which is the opera house in Venice. So, I know the people, I know the ambience, and I know the parts of Venice which are not the most familiar. I wanted to create an image of Venice which was, again, not the most predictable. Most of the film, of course, is set in the orphanage, which is a closed space. When we go out, there are scenes [where] you see real life. There is the butcher, killing the animals as they come. That’s the real life. It’s not like marble and frescoes, it’s about the honest life.

And then, there is a scene when Cecilia, the girls, and Vivaldi are playing for the King of Denmark. That gave me some opportunity to bring some lightness in the film. I create this character of the prince, the King of Denmark, as somebody very joyful and a little bit over the top, with a huge parrucca and makeup. I thought we need to have a moment in this story where you can breathe. With Cecilia, I want to say, “Wow. This is crazy, but this is life outside the orphanage.” So, both Cecilia and the audience can enjoy this situation.

And, when we shot the film in Venice, we found a very specific place, which is not a touristy one. [Partially] for technical reasons, so not to have a lot of people coming up and down. We focus on a very precise part of Venice. Since this is based on a true story, this orphanage existed in reality. Now, the place where the orphanage was, it’s a hotel. It does not exist anymore. The church where Vivaldi was playing still exists. Chiesa della Pietà, that’s the name, it’s near Saint Marco. You have [writings on the church] to Vivaldi, who played here for blah, blah, blah. But, the inside of the church was completely renovated in the 20th century. Now it’s completely white and neoclassical. It has nothing to do with Vivaldi’s era, so we could not use that space to shoot the film. We recreated another space. I tried to create an ambience which is Venice, but I didn’t want to make a film to give a touristic image of the city. It’s something simple and sincere. It’s a city, it’s my city, and I’ll show you a few parts of it without giving you the most predictable things.

I remember Cecilia even mentioning to Vivaldi, “Now you’ve shown us the outside world,” or something like that—and how dangerous that is since they’ve been in this convent the whole time.

Yeah, he said to her, “But you should be happy, you know, today you will play for the King.” She says, “Yeah, but sometimes it’s better not to know if you cannot enjoy it.” It makes her suffer even more now because she knows what she’s losing: a whole life, which is outside. The scene when they wash themselves, there is a little bit of sadness. It’s like, I show you something and then I say, “No, this is not for you.” And then it’s like, “Yes.” Like a tease.

What are you thinking is next in your career as a filmmaker? Or, maybe the opera’s calling you again?

I still have a lot of work in opera. [Laughs] That’s where I get my money so I can leave! Yeah, definitely operas. I will come here in Chicago in two years to do an opera at the Lyric Opera of Chicago.

I’ll have to catch that.

You know, opera works like that. They plan everything in advance. I have projects in opera for 2029! 

Oh, wow. So, you do this movie knowing next year you’re still doing opera?

Sì, sì. I know October 27th, I will be in Chicago for the opera. It’s not announced because they want to wait, but I know because I have to organize myself [laughs]. But to answer your question, yes. Definitely. I want to do another film. We have a very good relationship with the producers and with Warner Brothers, they are very happy. I’m very happy, too. The problem is finding the right idea, a good idea to put down a good story. But, I’m working on that.

Do you think music will still be an integral part of your next project?

I would love to do a musical, actually! But everybody keeps telling me, “Oh, but in Italy it does not work because everybody hates musicals. It never works, you can’t sell anything with a musical.” And I said, “Maybe because nobody has done a good one!” [Laughs] So, I would love to do a musical film, but I need to find the right subject, the right music, the right material to work with.

Well, if it’s any consolation, America loves musicals.

Yeah, maybe I should find an American producer! [Laughs]