Bajo la luna negra

A family —father, mother, and son— has just arrived for their vacation in a seaside town. They've rented their dream house and car. As they drive slowly along the town's main street in their red convertible Mercedes, passing through a crowd dressed in summer clothes and squeezed between two rows of stalls, the boy steals a straw hat from a homeless man. The boy and his parents don't think much of this spontaneous and almost innocent act. But it is this triviality that, little by little, triggers events that fill the air with tension. Or perhaps it simply reveals a threat that was already there: in the conflicts that simmer beneath the family's seemingly peaceful coexistence, in the boy's growing unease, in the obsession that drives the homeless man to break into the newcomers' vacation home. In Under the Black Moon everything happens without turning back, without us being able to explain why the most seemingly inconsequential decisions of the characters push them towards a drama that is, at the same time, catastrophe and salvation.