Maura Delpero

Maura Delpero—man, what a wild creative force. Born in Bolzano, tucked away up in Italy’s Trentino-Alto Adige region (that’s right, the part that looks like it could just slide into Austria if you nudged it), she’s not your average filmmaker. Her work kind of sneaks up on you. Take "Maternal" from 2019—she takes this convent in Buenos Aires, fills it with teenage mothers and nuns, and just lets the tension simmer. It’s not preachy, it’s not neat, it’s just raw humanity thrown together in this messy, claustrophobic space. You get these women, young and old, all wrestling with faith, motherhood, and honestly, just being seen. Delpero doesn’t sugarcoat anything; she pokes at the uncomfortable bits and makes you sit with them. Then there’s "Signori professori"—that one’s earlier, from 2008, and you can see her style finding its legs, but the bite’s already there. She’s not afraid to throw a little grit on the lens, you know? Fast forward to "Vermiglio" (2024), and you see a director who’s totally in her element. There’s something about the way she frames a shot—deliberate, a little off-kilter, like life itself. She’s got this knack for finding poetry in the plainest moments, like she’s daring you to look closer. Honestly, Delpero’s films aren’t gonna let you relax, but you won’t want to look away either. That’s her magic.