Ira

Ira translates as “Anger,” but the titular emotion isn’t often conveyed by the unnamed man and woman at the center of this subdued Italian drama set on the grim fringes of society. Instead, they spend their nights working—he in the market, she on the streets—or wandering restlessly and relentlessly around their dark, decaying city. Writer/director Mauro Russo Rouge follows his characters as they drive down roads lit by the yellow glow of streetlights, push through the crowds at a pink-hued nightclub, pick up supplies in a glaringly bright supermarket, and meander down sidewalks with drinks in hand. They rarely emerge into the sunlight; most of the action takes place in claustrophobic indoor spaces or in the cold, gray light of dusk or dawn. So, too, do their expressions remain withdrawn—even when their nascent relationship triggers a decisive act of violence.