Poslušalka mostov In preproduction Q1 2026

In 2018, when the bridge in Genoa collapsed, I was following the news closely, and they featured a man who spoke about how he had been monitoring the bridge for years, sending warnings that were ultimately ignored. The TV station referred to him as a "Bridge Listener." This struck me and made me think about how water dripping, if persistent enough, can eventually erode concrete—hidden, gradual, and unstoppable. It led me to reflect on change, which brought me to the idea of frozen people. On social media, if you pay attention, you’ll notice that the same people post the same comments on the same topics over and over again. Isn’t that a form of being stuck? Slowly, a story began to form in my mind—of mourning, suspended somewhere in the middle, frozen on the internet. And of a person who comes, listens, hears this grief and stagnation, and tries to move it with exactly what he knows best: sound. For nearly a century, we’ve had sound in film, but in The Bridge Listener, sound is not just an addition—it is the very heart of the story.