Italian filmmaker Carolina Cavalli has quickly emerged as one of the most original voices in contemporary cinema. Born in Milan, Cavalli made her feature debut with “Amanda” (2022), which premiered at the Venice and Toronto International Film Festivals and introduced her signature blend of melancholy, absurdity, and quiet tenderness. She later co-wrote “Fremont” (2023) with director Babak Jalali, earning a British Independent Film Award nomination and winning the Independent Spirit Award in the John Cassavetes category.
Her latest film, “The Kidnapping of Arabella,” follows the disillusioned Holly, who becomes convinced that eight-year-old Arabella is a version of her younger self. A stylized road movie and delightfully bizarre coming-of-age tale in reverse, the film continues Cavalli’s fascination with outsiders searching for meaning in dreamlike worlds. “The Kidnapping of Arabella” had its world premiere at the 2025 Venice Film Festival, where Benedetta Porcaroli won the Orizzonti Award for Best Actress, and screened at The Chicago International Film Festival as part of the New Directors Competition on October 22 & 23, with Cavalli in attendance for the North American premiere.
In conversation, Cavalli reflects on the strange beauty of being out of sync with the world, the collaborative intimacy she shares with her actors, and her belief that kindness — and difference — can be revolutionary.
There’s this feeling that runs through your film — of being slightly out of sync with the world, like maybe you’re not in the right place at the right time, and that life is happening somewhere else, but you don’t know where.
Yes, I can relate to that feeling completely. I often think about how things might have turned out if I had been brave enough, or coherent enough, or pure enough to maintain choices that were completely different from the ones I made. That’s something that often comes back to me.
I love that — the idea of meeting your younger self and asking, “What are you doing?” It’s such a fascinating concept. I want to talk about your collaboration with your actress, Benedetta Porcaroli. How did you two work together on this film?
When we first met, it was through an audition — we didn’t know each other at all. But now, after two films together, there’s a real strength and ease between us. We understand each other deeply. One of the first things we had to do, though, was forget the character Amanda had created in the first film. During rehearsals, that character would sometimes reappear, and we’d have to stop and remind ourselves, no, this is someone new.
It’s interesting, because when two people have worked together before, you naturally fall back into familiar energy or comfort zones. So it became part of our job to push against that — to create something entirely new.
That makes sense. There’s such vitality in your characters.
I love writing — especially writing women as main characters. For me, seeing a character move from the page into something real is always so exciting. There are so many surprises, because humanity itself is full of surprises and nuances you can’t plan for.
Absolutely. I just love the tone of your films — you get immersed and you know you’re in for a ride. Speaking of that, let’s talk about your cinematographer, Lorenzo. You’ve worked together before, right? The visual world you create feels almost otherworldly — muted but very alive. Can you talk about your collaboration and the look of this film?
Yes, Lorenzo and I worked closely with our production designer, Martino Bonanomi. Our goal was always to make the world feel real but not realistic — not tied to any specific geographic place. For this film, which is a kind of road trip, we wanted the landscape to constantly shift.
We actually created a sort of map for the film. My main idea was that the world should look as if it could be drawn by a child — a lot of empty space, simple but striking elements. Kids’ drawings often have vast empty backgrounds and a few idealized symbols — a house that looks exactly like a house, a tree that looks like a tree. We tried to capture that kind of clarity.
Of course, when you start shooting, you have to meet reality and find a compromise — though I don’t think of it as a compromise, more as an enrichment.
I have to ask — Taco King — is that a real place?
(laughs) No, it’s not! We invented it. We wanted a place that didn’t quite belong anywhere. We mixed aesthetics, even reused a few set pieces from the first film because they fit that imagined world so well. So yes, there may be some visual similarities between the two films, but for us, it’s definitely a different world.
That’s amazing. And I have to say, when I started watching the film, I thought, wait — is that Chris Pine? And it was! I love that you cast him. It reminded me of how Ana Lily Amirpour often casts big-name actors in these unexpected supporting roles.
Yes, I think to do that, you have to find actors who are adventurous and open — and Chris definitely was. He was curious, open, and completely game to explore something different.
What did his character represent for you?
For me, he was someone who’s out of place — a man chasing an idealized version of himself. I imagined him as someone working or writing in a second language, slightly adrift, always striving to become who he thinks he should be. He’s not a bad person, but he’s unable to fully inhabit the roles life has given him — including that of a father.
He’s someone who’s never really had to face the consequences of his actions, and this is the first time he has to.
And the little girl — Arabella — she’s incredible. How was it working with her?
Thank you! It was her first time acting, and actually my first time working with a child. The most important thing for me was making sure she understood she was acting as someone else — that the character wasn’t her. Because there are moments where, in the story, she runs away with a stranger, and I wanted her to fully understand that was pretend.
She was very aware, though. I ended up talking to her as I would to any actor — while remembering, of course, that she’s six. She has such a natural sense of presence. Children live in their imagination all the time; there’s no line between reality and play for them. That gives them this incredible authenticity on screen.
That’s beautiful. I know we’re almost out of time, but I always end with this question: what do you hope audiences take away from your film?
I hope they see kindness. That being present in the world — really living in it — doesn’t mean giving up your dreams, but embracing the moment you’re in. That was very important to me.
And maybe something more delicate — the idea of perception. How some people, especially those who are neurodivergent, perceive the world differently. I think there’s beauty in that difference — in how sensitivity shapes how we see and create.
That’s so lovely. It reminds me of what Chloé Zhao once said about her own neurodivergence — how it influences her filmmaking. I can definitely see a reflection of that in your characters.
Yes, exactly. It’s all part of how we move through the world — and how we tell stories about it.
