The short film In-Nani f’Art il-Ġganti is an exceedingly poignant look into the present moment. It invites viewers into a conversation in which two friends “negotiate a space full of webs of power” with the COVID-19 pandemic as a backdrop. The film’s writer and director, Noah Fabri, speaks to Lara Zammit about the ideas percolating throughout the production. 

In-Nani f’Art il-Ġganti is a slow-paced short film revolving around a conversation between two friends who take a walk through the countryside during the fallout of COVID-19. What prompted you to create this short film? What are the ideas behind it?

Last May, as the first wave of COVID-19 was loosening up, I took a few walks through the landscape which the characters navigate and a certain quality in it crystallised several ideas I had been working on.

It’s an in-between space, between Żebbuġ and Attard, where a mixture of ways of life come together – an industrial estate blends into fields and farms around the villas of the super-rich, and the end of the road was at the time closed off by the Central Link development.

I felt it was a space where questions surrounding land ownership and our right to space, as well as how these tie into our perception of class, become very sensitive and contested. This also came out in discussions that I was having at the time with Michela Farrugia, who plays Carey in the film.

In terms of writing, I wanted to work on an exercise to build a conversation that hits certain points while flowing and responding to the space, which can follow and highlight the tiny ways in which two friends change a little whenever they meet. This is why I chose film as a medium, so that we could really see the characters’ words reflecting off the space.

The film is exceedingly current, not only in that it features topics and references to people currently in the public eye, but also in its portrayal of frustrations some Maltese youths commonly face. The film shows how COVID-19 has exasperated these and other frustrations, such as the disruption of art exhibitions and the like. What would you say was the most prevalent disruption caused by the pandemic on youths and youth culture?

I felt the impact on my bubble of friends in terms of being able to bump into someone at one of the bars which become a melting pot of ideas. This film is a product of that. Once things relaxed in summer, being able to meet and feel part of a community allowed the ideas to become concrete.

I spoke about my vague idea for the film to Rachel Micallef Somerville, our cinematographer, one night at Ġugar in Valletta, and she really pushed me to actually go for it with an incredible enthusiasm that kept us going until the end.

Being able to congregate is vital for people to share ideas, learn from each other, and create communities.

The characters are conscious of the political upheavals happening at the time

The two friends in the film speak about all manner of things during their walk, including sexuality, anarchy, loss, civil rights, colonialism, their place in the country and the world. What is the significance of the topics discussed?

It was important for me that the film’s characters, Carey and Alfie, take their words into a space that’s familiar but which they are ultimately not as such a part of. Alfie feels she does not belong to her hometown, just behind them, because of her middle-class upbringing, while Carey is more optimistic about being able to belong everywhere even though they too live in a bubble.

The film’s behind-the-scenes crew battling the wind. Photo: Mandy Bebbuxu Vjola

Their concerns all feed off one another; Carey is experimenting with their gender identity, Alfie makes the link between the colonial erasure of gender nonconforming bodies and speaks of her experiences in London, feeling awkwardly positioned as a postcolonial subject subjugating others.

They are conscious of the political upheavals happening at the time. Contextualising the conversation was something I was aware of during filming; although we were a small crew, we were still intervening in a semi-public space which other people have more of a right to than us. Being DIY allowed us the freedom to explore these ideas.

The acting is very natural and almost improvised, making it feel as though we are eavesdropping on an impromptu conversation. The film does not invite the viewer to agree or disagree with any of the statements made in it since it is purely a conversation between friends to which we have not been invited. How did the actors involved prepare for the film and what was the manner of your direction?

Working with Michela and Mandy Bebbuxu Vjola was a beautiful process of collaboration as they brought the characters to life and put themselves into the words. We rehearsed and made friends along the way, cooked for each other and found ourselves having conversations that mirrored the characters’ dialogue.

I have been working on writing that feels as natural as possible while still being structured, and creating this was a process of taking a set script, seeing what works and doesn’t during rehearsal, and amending accordingly until it flowed correctly. I am really honoured to have collaborated with such incredible, disciplined artists.

Rachel’s belief in this project gave us the push we needed; she was always ready to experiment and try out our slightly silly idea. Martin Bonnici, who contributed equipment and was of invaluable help, brought the advice, experience and sensibility we needed, and Giovan Baldacchino, our sound recordist, arrived from a day of work to battle the wind.

This is also why we chose to keep the final work rough around the edges; it was an exercise for us to try something out, having a good time collaborating on the way.

The title of the film is also very compelling. Could you elaborate on this?

Carey and Alfie are the little dwarves negotiating a space full of webs of power, with the shadow of infrastructure hanging above them. One of the ways in which large-scale infrastructure projects sustain the power of capital is by enchanting those who experience them, so a title like a fairy tale (having Trevor Zahra vibes) seemed appropriate.

I only noticed that it works in hindsight, though. I didn’t like the way it sounded at first, but it grew on me after Michela and Mandy insisted that it worked.

In-Nani f’Art il-Ġganti is available for viewing on YouTube.