Kamkari structures the film around interviews with those who knew Di Palma best: directors, collaborators, friends, journalists, and, most poignantly, his wife, Adriana Chiesa Di Palma, who travels the world revisiting the landscapes of his career. Her conversations are unhurried, allowing reflections to emerge naturally, mirroring Di Palma’s own slow and patient approach to light, color, and mood.
One of the unexpected surprises of the film is how it becomes a visual love letter to Rome. Several interviews are staged in front of iconic ancient sites, many of which surrounded and influenced Di Palma as a child when his mother would leave him with tram operators to circle the Eternal City while she worked as a florist by the Spanish Steps. Perhaps as the tram once did with a young Di Palma, the opening sequence sweeps past Emperor Claudius’s Porta Maggiore aqueduct. Shortly after, Christian De Sica speaks with the evocative backdrop of the Temple of Vesta, and the Bocca della Verità just across the street. Film journalist Furio Colombo reflects near the Portico of Octavia, while director Giuliano Montaldo offers his recollections from a terrace in Piazza di Spagna overlooking the Spanish Steps. Other moments take place by the Fontana dell’Acqua Paola on the Janiculum Hill, at the Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia, and within Cinecittà Studios—sites intertwined with Italy’s cinematic heritage.
The film pays special attention to Di Palma’s artistic lineage and the people who influenced him at the beginning of his career. “My greatest teacher is Gianni Di Venanzo,” he recalls. “Gianni Di Venanzo, who did all the early films—the first black-and-whites of (Michelangelo) Antonioni. I was his focus operator, and then I became a director of photography.” The documentary traces this apprenticeship, from “Il Grido” to Di Palma’s eventual emergence as a visionary in his own right. Russian director Nikita Mikhalkov describes the impact of Di Venanzo and the subsequent evolution represented by Di Palma: “At the time of black-and-white cinema, nobody ever bettered what Gianni Venanzo did. Carlo’s appearance is the next step—a completely different school, a vision of camera movement that was completely different.” Kamkari connects these histories, showing how the refinement of black-and-white technique under Di Venanzo blossomed into the vibrant, expressive color cinematography that became Di Palma’s hallmark.
The documentary is particularly precious for capturing one of the last great generations of Italian filmmakers on camera. Though released in 2017, it had been in production for years, allowing time for interviews with cinematic giants such as Francesco Rosi, Carlo Lizzani, Bernardo Bertolucci, Ettore Scola, and Lina Wertmüller—many of whom passed away during the last decade. So, seeing them appear in this documentary is a real treat. Their presence lends the film a strong sense of nostalgia, making it not just a document about Di Palma, but about a fading era of Italian cinema.
Di Palma’s long collaboration with Woody Allen emerges as one of the documentary's major threads. Di Palma lived in New York for 17 years, during which he shot 12 films with Allen. Their partnership, he explains, worked so well because both men approached filmmaking in a similar way: “That very improvisational, you know, lazy, instinctive way,” Allen said. Their collaboration on films such as “Hannah and Her Sisters” and “Husbands and Wives” is presented as expressions of Di Palma’s devotion to warm colors, natural light, and emotionally intuitive camerawork.
Kamkari complements these interviews with rich archival footage. Rather than treating Di Palma’s filmography as a series of accomplishments, he uses excerpts from Antonioni’s “Red Desert” and “Blow-Up,” along with others, to illustrate Di Palma’s artistry, which this documentary proves is classic, modern, and timeless all at once.
“Water and Sugar: Carlo Di Palma, The Colours of Life” is available to stream online. Click here to stream it on Amazon.
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