The room falls silent. Our attention is so complete it generates an almost delicate tension—a current of new feelings that both move and unsettle us. On the small screen, images unfold: young people with Down syndrome, their faces marked to varying degrees by the features of trisomy 21, walking in pairs along the seashore, embracing with affection, exchanging tender words and declarations of love, preparing for a party, dancing in a nightclub, sharing their love stories, their hopes for the future, and also their doubts and awareness of their own limits.
Sweet, Not Saccharine
When the film ends, Marta speaks first. "We have to thank the director for the quality of the film, for the delicacy with which he treats something so new and tender. I'm of a certain age—my daughter Teresa is 42—and I had a fairly rigid upbringing about these things, so I was almost afraid to watch it. But now I'm just glad, and I wish everyone would see it, even though I don't think all our young people are necessarily so inclined toward romantic love."
All of us—mothers and sisters, young and older—agree. Francesca, a young sister of fifteen-year-old Luciana, says she liked it because it's "sweet and not saccharine." Franca, almost tearful, admits she wishes the same kind of love story for her Daniela. Anna Rosa believes that even if this kind of experience may not be possible for her Antonio, the film opens new doors, broadens horizons for our young people's futures. She's convinced it's right that it ends by calling for the creation of new group homes where two or more couples could live, supported by parents or caregivers—especially since, as Riccardo, Caterina's boyfriend in the film, says with confident certainty: "Being alone isn't nice. It's better to be with friends."
Will It Be Mocked?
But of course, there are doubts and different feelings to work through. Francesca S. seems most uncertain. "We like the film, and I agree it has quality and delicacy. But what effect will it have on people who don't directly face this in their families, in their lives? Will they take it seriously, or will they just smile? Will it become an excuse to laugh at them?"
Franca answers decisively: "I don't think so. Those days are gone. And anyway, why should we care what others think? If we believe something is good for our children, we have to fight for it without worrying about criticism or people's smirks."
Anna Rosa reflects on how different things were twenty or thirty years ago. "I kept Antonio close. I was afraid of everything for him. Then, with help from our friends at Faith and Light, I changed. I exposed him to different people and experiences. Now I see he's changed too. He doesn't do great things, but he's more aware of himself, of who he is, of what he wants. He makes plans for Sundays—it gives me more to do, for sure—but I'm happy for him and for me. So I think we shouldn't be afraid of new things."
But Francesca L. isn't entirely convinced either. She's seen the film more than once and knows the world it comes from and some of the young actors. Yet she confesses that from her first viewing something troubled her—a discomfort she couldn't name at first, but gradually understood: "Because these are stories of friendship and love that happen only between young people with Down syndrome. I think about Luciana: will she only ever be able to have a relationship with someone like her? Is there no other possibility? Isn't there a danger of locking them into a new ghetto all over again? Love stories, yes—but only with each other. And that's exactly why the film is so beautiful that it could be dangerous. At the same time, I realize some of this is just dreams. I myself wouldn't have married a man with Down syndrome. But I still wish the field could stay more open. There are young people with other small disabilities who might, maybe, be with them. But who knows if their parents would allow it."
Silence. Then Francesca S. says this is her fear too—especially because Giovanni has never wanted to spend time with young people like himself. He denies being Down syndrome. He acts indifferent to anything that concerns them. It will be hard to get him to see the film, but Francesca will push him to watch it and talk about it with her.
Living in the Real World
At this point, we all pause and flash back to our own young people's relationships with others.
Marta remembers: "From the start, my family and I fought to keep Teresa in the real world, without any separation. For twenty years she's worked regularly in the pediatrics ward at San Giovanni Hospital. She's had crushes on "normal" people and her heartbreaks—which she's gotten through, with our help. Now she seems more at peace. She does her job and has understood, for instance, that she can't raise a child alone—something she desperately wanted years ago. For some time now, on her psychiatrist's advice, she's been in theater and activity groups where she meets young people with Down syndrome and other disabilities, alongside typical peers. Daniele, Titti's twenty-four-year-old son, is a butterfly. He fell in love easily with every beautiful girl he met in the groups. Lately he's calmer and is presenting a young woman with Down syndrome—the daughter of family friends—as his girlfriend."
Anna Rosa adds: "When Antonio was younger, he fell hard for every girl from Faith and Light. He wanted to call them constantly. I had no idea what to do. For the last few years he's settled down. Now and then he asks me about Annarita, a girl he meets at the Down Association. Who knows what might happen."
So Much They Don't Tell Us
Luciana, like any fifteen-year-old, is currently in love only with the singers she sees on television. Though Francesca tries sometimes to coax her into talking about the cutest boy in her class—just to understand what she thinks.
So there are clues with our young people too. Small traces. Dreams to follow. And who knows how many things they don't tell us even though they feel them, suffer them, hope for them deep inside.
As we're leaving, Franca pulls me aside to confide: "I heard that Marco comes to the workshop—the boy who works at the bar. I'm happy. You know, Daniela met him a while ago and told me he's very polite and nice."
Best wishes, Daniela. Best wishes to all of you, and to all of us who love you and want only the best for you.
Edited by Tea Cabras and Natalia Livi, 2000
On Feelings
Italy, 1999, Betacam, 35′
Director: Daniele Segre
Production: I Cammelli - Italian Association of People with Down Syndrome - Fondazione Verso Il Futuro - RAI
Distribution: AIPD – I Cammelli
Story: Anna Contardi, Michela Colapinto, Daniele Segre
Editing: Daniele Segre
Cinematography: Paolo Ferrari
Camera Operator: Francesco Cavazza
Sound: Gianluca Costamagna
Music: Carlo Siliotto
Invited to the Venice International Film Festival, 1999
Broadcast by RAITRE
Invited to the International Festival "Cinéma du Réel," Paris 2000
and to the Shanghai Film Festival, 2000