It is the night between 1st and 2nd November 1975.
Mystical starlessness connects All Saints’ Day with All Souls’ Day.
Fatal darkness pervades one of Ostia’s dilapidated, deserted dusty streets next to the airport.
A single moment, the final breath. Pier Paolo Pasolini faces his killer before he is fatally struck. Suddenly everything that preceded this moment comes to make sense. Life. Soon it will be forty years ago when the fatal Monday dawned that captured Pasolini. I owe him this much, to take his performance on stage in his memory, and in order to rediscover what a great person and artist was lost then and there in the dust of Ostia.
Béla Szemán (director)