Anyone who has ever seen even a mildly scary movie knows that, when the choice is presented, you should never go down to the basement.
That is probably doubly true for a basement built on a reclaimed marsh. Massimo, the debonair dentist whose increasingly tormented face is in almost every frame of buzzy Venice Film Festival competition entry, America Latina, is in bed with his wife when the bulb in their reading light goes.
There are probably new bulbs in the basement, he says. Next morning, he finds time between fillings and bridge work to go down there.
The sight that meets his eyes is so shocking that it is possible — albeit frustrating — to believe that he is incapable of responding in the way any of us imagines we would, that he might
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