Grey skies. Farmland. Old depots. An empty station.

A train arrives to the platform. No one exits, except

for Antigone, a young woman in her 30ćs. This is Th.,a small Greek town, the place Antigone decides to move back to after many years of absence.

Antigone is determined to settle in. She goes to the

local bar for a drink; she meets friends from the old

times; she takes a job as an English teacher; she even finds a boyfriend, Nikos, young, good-looking and naive – the simpler, the better...

Antigone’s search for an unassuming life in Th. soon

turns out to be slightly more complicated than

she thought. Life in the streets of Th. is quiet but

underneath violence, discrimination and a collective, unspoken rule of silence reign. Soon, Antigone will start wondering if she can just stand aside and watch or if she should take action.

A film about the aesthetics of indifference, violence

and involvement. A meta-western.

It’s not such a long time since the first images of the script began to take shape. A civilisation was crumbling down without leaving a sad aftertaste: the last shot of Import/Export, the rhythmic repetition of the word “tod” by a demented old lady in the hall of an old people’s home. Dancing on ruins. Back then, there were no signs that anyone could ask for more.

The imagery of the Greek provinces offers nothing elegiac any more; this is an environment altered by cars: a land raided by its people and a time defined by the journeys of cars. The action of our story takes place during winter. Cool colours and shades of beige prevail. The colour range resembles the work of Gustave Courbet in “Boats on Beach, Étretat”.