If the mountain could speak, would we know how to listen?

Per silenzio e vento explores the spiritual bond between human beings and the mountain environment, moving beyond the notion of alpinism as conquest or hedonistic pursuit to reimagine it as an act of deep listening.

Through the perspective of writer Matteo Righetto and his encounters with climbers, scholars, and those who live and work in the mountains, the film reflects on the ethical value of high-altitude landscapes in an era marked by ecological crisis and growing tourist pressure.

The mountain is no longer merely a backdrop, but a living body that calls for radical change: rediscovering the poetry of the silvaticus as a way to rebuild a sense of community.

A collective journey toward a semantic and evocative redefinition of the word “alpinism,” along the axis: I, mountain, we.


Per silenzio e vento.

A Film directed by Marco Zuin
Written by Matteo Righetto
With Reinhold Messner, Erri De Luca,
Enrico Camanni, Katharina Lunger, Wafaa Amer

The Author's note

“Nullus locus sine genio,” said the ancient Romans -no place exists without its spirit. They knew how to recognize the presence of a primordial soul in every landscape, and this awareness was rooted in a refined sense of the sacred, one closely tied to poetry.

It is above all from this idea that my own personal path of philosophical, existential, and poetic reflection has long taken shape—a path that ultimately led to the making of the film Per silenzio e vento. Its evocative title may be understood both as “by means of, through” and as “in favor of, in support of” silence and wind.

In either sense, the journey inevitably confronted me with a series of reflections, doubts, and questions concerning the very essence of our relationship with the mountains—at a historical moment in which the Alps, and the Dolomites in particular, have become the object of a consumerist and superficial aggression. This assault is driven not only by the phenomenon of overtourism, but also by a peculiar hedonistic‑sporting desacralization that fails—or refuses—to grasp the ancestral spirituality of these places, ultimately transforming them into a lifeless body, a non‑place: mere backdrops for narcissistic and adrenaline‑fueled entertainment. The mountain, by contrast, is far more alive than the prevailing materialist paradigm would have us believe.

Solvitur ambulando - it is solved by walking. And so, with light steps and deep breaths, following a path that was both physical and inward, a kind of small meditative pilgrimage, I encountered voices and testimonies that nourished my reflections. They guided me toward the rediscovery of a harmony between ourselves and the natural environment—an irresistible call that gradually transformed into a desire for slowness and rhythm, in the name of a new humanism. What emerged was a vision of the Alps as an integral and systemic whole, not only from an ecological and naturalistic standpoint, but also from a spiritual one. And through the awakening of this awareness, I was finally able to give form to something I had long sensed deep within myself: so‑called human silence is not silence at all, but a richness of many voices that must be safeguarded.

In conceiving the film, and later while walking this “path” together with my travel companion Marco Zuin, I sought to express how it is still possible to be amazed by the smallest detail—the one that restores meaning to existence as a whole. What resulted was an experience of encounter—per silenzio e vento, indeed—between animism, sacredness, and universal wisdom. For there is more life in a forest or on a solitary summit than in a shopping mall.

In light of all this, the fundamental question—the one I always carried carefully in my backpack throughout my long and unhurried wandering—was this: what meaning should we give today to the word “alpinism”? In an age of profound social, cultural, and environmental transformation, I believe the time has come to restore new light to the deepest sense and value of this term and its practice. Today, “alpinism” should fundamentally and simply express love for the Alps—for the mountains—and an active commitment to them, in all possible forms.

At the end of this journey, I find it difficult to believe that we can still define as alpinists only those who race against time and rock faces, who conquer peaks, challenge themselves and others, and triumph over the cliffs. The alpinist of today is also—and above all—someone who walks silently through the woods, able to listen to the sound of the wind; someone who cares for pastures, forests, and trails at the cost of great personal sacrifice; someone who ascends valleys and ridges in quiet wonder at the sight of a chamois; someone who contemplates the world from mountain crests without feeling the need to reach a summit. Someone who, in all of this, feels called to a constant ecological and civic commitment.

An alpinist is one who, in their relationship with the mountains, sets aside ego in order to listen—to recognize the mountain’s value, uniqueness, and spirituality; to learn how to interpret and defend its fragility; and to safeguard its beauty, working toward a long‑hoped‑for rebalancing of the relationship between the human and the more‑than‑human world. With the hope that this renewed perspective might, in turn, radiate outward into civil society itself.

Matteo Righetto

The Director's statement

Stories draw their strength from their substance, their style, and the way they are told. When I began thinking about this documentary, I committed myself to an ethics of responsibility, expressed first and foremost in the time we allow images to unfold and in a constant search for balance. Today, being responsible as filmmakers means choosing - consciously - what to show and what to leave unseen.

At high altitude, language gives way to breath. Shots and words are like the contents of a backpack: they must be essential, never a burden.
Engaging with the profound thought of a writer such as Matteo Righetto, the cinematic challenge was to let his vision converse with a language capable of offering a sensory experience, one that would not merely illustrate a thesis or translate a book into images. In keeping with this approach, Matteo undertakes his journey as a listening guest—someone able to inhabit space and remain open to wonder. For the viewer, he becomes a guiding presence that does not explain, but accompanies.

In an era in which digital platforms already provide an endless catalogue of hyperrealistic and spectacular imagery, replicating the same aesthetic of visual efficiency would have been a futile effort. Cinema has a responsibility to position itself elsewhere, offering an alternative shaped by patience and respect - where images are not consumed, but contemplated. And although the mountain remains, in its essence, indifferent to human affairs, it is up to the gaze we cast upon it to find meaning within that silence.

The inclusion of Super 8 family footage shot by Matteo’s father in the 1970s lends the film a more intimate dimension. Seeing Matteo as a child taking his first steps among the peaks helps us understand how his thinking was shaped and sedimented over time. These moments reveal the deep roots of his bond with high-altitude landscapes.
We conceived Per silenzio e vento as a film that speaks to everyone, asking viewers to be willing to submit themselves to the mountain’s sense of time.

The film finds autonomy in its visual and sonic language, addressing the senses directly. It lives through a process of subtraction, where the rhythm of the images and the careful use of absence become tools for restoring the very essence of listening to the audience.