Plot

The giant allegoric floats of Viareggio, Tuscany, are ironic, dramatic, and fabulous metaphors of papier-mâché, hinting at the big themes of the day. Every year, since almost a century and a half, they parade along the promenade, like black and white movie monsters, higher than the highest art nouveau buildings of this tourist resort flourished at the turn of the 19th century, when the Carnival festival itself was born, destined to become one of the most popular in Europe. In the Covid-19 age, in an atmosphere suspended between hope and doubt, the "carristi" - the craftsmen who build the biggest and most animated Carnival floats of the world - were getting ready to take off again for the 2022 festival, that was supposed to have more than ever a symbolic meaning of regeneration, and to celebrate the value historically most cherished by the town of Viareggio: freedom. But Covid is raging and the carnival, if it is ever celebrated, will still be among a thousand limitations that will distort the party again, like last year. Now, more than ever, the carristi appear just like they usually appear to their little fans - superheroes of the papier-mâché. Or captains of a ship - the float - that must be brought at all costs, and maybe for the last time, to destination. And no one remembers why.