Il volto di Medusa

An obsidian-toned parable unfurls in 1919 Turin: sculptor Leone, tormented by the Gorgon’s myth, chisels his mistress’s face into a marble Medusa, unaware the bust will petrify every gaze that meets it. When the statue vanishes, a chain reaction of calcified corpses stains the foggy boulevards; Leone, hunted by detectives and his own duplicity, descends into catacombs where shadows sprout serpents. The film’s chiaroscuro palette—lamp-lit cobblestones, moon-bleached facades—turns every spectator into potential stone, a visual verdict on voyeurism. In the final reel, Leone confronts his creation in a mirror-lined atelier: the reflection blinks first, and the screen itself fractures into jagged obsidian shards, leaving only the audience’s pulse as evidence that blood still flows.