“The gods,” the artist said, “pleasure themselves with men by
rummaging through their lives, wounding their bodies with their
darts of pain, denying man the ability to be near them, yet they still
make us love them and feel the thrill of immortality.”
It is the story of life, the metaphor of human pettiness and the reactions linked to them. A journey along the short but intense parabola of an artist painter who finds himself projected (by chance) into a world of lights and lust. Checkpoint Charlie is the limit, the line that not everyone wants to cross, where there is no return except after selling the soul to the devil.
“What is your job?” The artist asked.
“Undertaker” he said. Twenty-five years of work, and he’d certainly
buried a lot of people. He dug the grave and if necessary, undressed
and redressed the body. They pay for everything.
“Do the dead stink?”
“Yes, a great deal.”
“Animals don’t have cemeteries. Why is it that, in your opinion?”
Michele Iacono offers us reasons to reflect, on the limits that the common moral sense imposes. It retraces Italy in its most beautiful cities telling us the limits that some of us have decided or have been forced to face.
The Artist presents itself as new air on the American market after its release in Italian under the title Checkpoint Charlie. Published by Hoffmann & Hoffmann and distributed by Ingram.