24/10/2025 - Salvatore Allocca delivers an affectionate documentary about his mother, who has emigrated to Tunisia, and the community of Italian retirees who move abroad where the cost of living is lower

Salvatore Allocca and his mother Antonietta in Residence Hammamet - My Mother’s Maktub

“An introverted filmmaker travels to Tunisia to reunite with his 70-year-old mother, who has emigrated: she dances her way through life; he learns to follow her,” reads the pressbook for Residence Hammamet – My Mother’s Maktub by Salvatore Allocca, unveiled at the 20th Rome Film Fest, in the Special Screenings section. It is a premise that already promises a great deal, and the film turns out to be a small gem of irony and tenderness, as well as a subtle social inquiry into Italian pensioners who relocate abroad, where the cost of living is lower. One of its strengths lies precisely in the contrast between the son’s restraint and the mother’s exuberance.

“It looks like you’ve swapped ages,” says a woman, eyeing Salvatore. The director has just landed in Hammamet to visit his mother, Antonietta, who, after turning 70, moved to the Tunisian city and started a new life with a younger, gentle and caring man she met there. Antonietta is a bundle of energy and is thinking about getting married again, because in Hammamet, she has found a family. Her son is wary (“You know men change after marriage!”) and discreetly tries to understand more about this new life far from Italy, to check whether she is truly doing as well as she says she is. The answer is a resounding "yes".

Amid dancing, burraco tournaments, dips in the pool and trips into the desert, Allocca discovers a whole universe of Italian seventy-somethings who feel welcomed and pampered by Tunisians, who build a community, pledge mutual support, and enjoy the sun and the sea without scrimping. He asks them, “Are you happy?”, and “We’re at peace,” is the most frequent reply. Of course, it isn’t all rosy. A couple married for 50 years are about to separate because he wants to stay in Tunisia, while she admits, “This life isn’t for me.” There are regrets, homesickness and moments when that life feels a little constricting.

The person most determined never to go back is Antonietta herself. Dynamic, infectious, friends with everyone, she has many plans and seems to be taking everything in her stride. In Arabic, maktub means destiny, or what is written. Antonietta is convinced that this is her maktub. The film often makes you smile; you find yourself marvelling at the extraordinary ability to reinvent oneself even at that age, at the ease and freedom of spirit that, paradoxically, one often lacks when one is younger. Usually, it’s the children who emigrate and the parents who wait for their visits, at least for the holidays; here, it’s the other way around, and the comedic effect of this role reversal is irresistible.

“She dances her way through life; he learns to follow her,” as we said at the outset. The final surprise is that this documentary can also be deeply moving, yet so gently that it makes you want to throw your arms in the air and start dancing alongside them.

Residence Hammamet - My Mother’s Maktub was produced by Rome-based company Own Air.

(Translated from Italian)