Michele Braga talks about the soundtrack of If Tomorrow I Don't Return, Paola Randi's film inspired by Gino Cecchettin's Cara Giulia, in theaters today. Between piano with felt, tape and silences, the composer explains how he tried to tell the story of Giulia Cecchettin's family without making a spectacle of the pain. In the interview, the work with Filippo Timi, his self-taught beginnings, his relationship with directors, They Call Me Jeeg Robot and his new projects, from the series on the kidnapping of Farouk Kassam to the film with Tony Pitony.
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On the phone Michele Braga gets excited when the conversation reaches Filippo Timi, his Gino Cecchettin. The composer remembers the actor's gaze on the bus, while everyone around is singing. “Sorry, I get emotional when I think about it,” he says. Then he apologizes again. There is no need, since in that emotion there is perhaps the most authentic key to listening to the soundtrack he wrote for If Tomorrow I Don't Torno, the film by Paola Randi freely inspired by the book Cara Giulia by Gino Cecchettin with Marco Franzoso, which arrived in theaters on November 5th with Notorious Pictures after the preview at the Rome Film Festival. A piano with felt that repeats a pattern, filtered by a tape recorder, a distant celesta surrounded by reverb. A score that tries to contain the emphasis and leave room for the images, because, as Braga says, as soon as he pushed the emotion pedal a little the film risked becoming a novel.
Roman, born in 1977, self-taught musician, Braga is among the most prolific names in contemporary Italian cinema (from Lovano Jeeg Robot and Freaks Out by Gabriele Mainetti to Dogman by Matteo Garrone, from I Smetto Whenever I Want - Masterclass and Ad honorem to Mixed by Erry by Sydney Sibilia, up to La Strangezza and L'Abbaglio by Roberto Andò). He had already worked with Paola Randi on La Befana vien di notte II - The origins, another world, he says. Here he accompanies Filippo Timi in the role of Gino, Tecla Bossi in that of Elena, Sabrina Martina in the role of Giulia and Tommaso Allione in that of Davide, and he does so with songs with titles that are already a story: The forest above the lake, Burn everything, Make noise for Giulia. The original soundtrack is available from November 2nd on the main digital platforms.
Still Walking by Hirokazu Kore-eda comes to mind, where a family meets every year to commemorate their dead son and the mourning never explodes, but settles in the smallest gestures, in the kitchen, in an old record listened to in silence. Braga's music also inhabits that everyday life which, in his words, does not yet know it is fragile, and then accompanies a family overwhelmed by absence until the moment in which private pain becomes collective awareness.
«A true and painful story: I joined with great conviction»
You had already worked with Paola Randi. This time, however, it is a true, recent story, very painful for the country. How did you react when he asked you to write the music?
I had already worked with Paola on a completely different film, a fiction film, a story more for children. This is exactly another world. The reaction was obviously one of concern in dealing with such a topic, however, I think like most of the cast, or perhaps all, I joined with great conviction. I heard Paola say in the press conference that each of us perhaps gave something more, something that went beyond us, beyond our egos, because in this case there was a different service to be done. Even though it was a tragedy, for me it was a very important, very formative experience. I have three teenage children, two girls aged 19 and 17 and a boy aged 14, and especially thinking about him, it is a film that I really enjoyed making. I believe that they, as well as parents, are the right audience for this story, because it is educational without being didactic, it is exciting but it is also mainstream. It is based on a precarious balance: it was very difficult, but Paola was very good, even with Lisa, the screenwriter. I think we've all managed to keep this story in a non-redundant balance.
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A worn piano to tell reality without defining it
In the main theme the piano has a muffled, almost worn sound. How did you come to this choice?
I realized that when I happen to write for films based on true stories, in which real events are told, it is more interesting for me to tell reality, even with music, without excessive definition. For me, for you, for everyone, there is no black or white, and it's like that in music too; in contemporary music this often happens. In general, the timbre that is not perfect, not defined, a little worn, and also the harmonies that are not closed, not typical and traditional, are something that comes very naturally to me to do, precisely to give this feeling of non-definition.
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«As soon as he touched on emotion, it became a novel»
Was there a scene that was particularly difficult to set to music, or music that you decided not to use?
In general the column wasn't very simple, because I'm one of those who likes not to put too much music in films and not to underline too much. But in this film, even more so, we realized that as soon as we pushed the emotional pedal a little bit it immediately became a fictional story, while we wanted the feelings to remain as true as possible. Even in the slightly more epic moments, especially from the second part onwards, when Elena enters the scene and the drama becomes a collective awareness (thanks also to our consciences awakened by Elena's words and everything that followed), I tried not to overdo it and to keep my feet firmly on the ground. It's clear that films have their own language: this is a very successful film, which wants to reach as many people as possible, and therefore music also has a certain type of code. But within that code, in which the epic or emotionality is told in a certain way, I tried to stay a little in subtraction, a bit like the actors also did. Songs that didn't end up in the film don't come to mind at the moment, perhaps because I wasn't particularly fond of them. In reality I wrote a lot of music, as always happens when working with Paola, who pays important attention to music, as it should be and as I'm happy it is.
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Filippo Timi's gaze on the bus
Did Filippo Timi's interpretation suggest anything to you? An attitude, a look, a pause?
Look, when I think about it I get emotional, sorry... I get over it right away. I saw the movie hundreds of times while working on it, then I saw it at the preview, and now I'm waiting to go with a child. What totally breaks me, it seems absurd, is Filippo's look at the end, when they are on the bus and everyone is singing. When Timi, and therefore Gino, watches everyone sing, you already imagine Giulia among those kids, because life goes on anyway, unfortunately or fortunately, especially for those who remain. And the film is very much the story of this. There is no morbidity, there is no pornography of feelings. There is the absence of the greatest love you can have, that of children, who are taken from you from one day to the next in such a violent and absurd way. In that look there is what I tried to give with the music: not just tragedy, clearly desperation in some points, but in the entire second part a hope with a strong melancholy. That look from Filippo on the bus, still, when I think about it, as you can see, devastates me. Maybe because when you're a father...
In-depth analysis
If I don't come back tomorrow, the cast of the film about Giulia Cecchettin. PHOTO
«Each soundtrack is its own»
You have worked with many directors, on very different films. Does your approach change depending on the film?
Each soundtrack stands alone. You can have a method, your own way of dealing with things. I don't know much about journalism, but I imagine that in an investigation some things remain the same, the method for finding sources for example, but that the methodology changes depending on where you do it. I try to immerse myself in the story, to understand what the director wants, what he hopes to achieve from the music, and then what kind of musical world would be right to tell that film. I'm very curious, I like many types of music, jazz, classical, and I don't have a favorite style and that's it. Once I understand what world could be explored, I immerse myself completely in it, I try to make it mine and give it back with my sensitivity.
How important is the discussion with the director?
There is a great comparison. I look for him a lot, and when he's not there I have to say that I miss him, even if sometimes directors rely on him a lot. Even with directors with whom I have already worked many times I look for comparisons for each new film, because maybe he has an idea of what the music could be like, or he had a feeling while he was writing while listening to a certain type of music: it is all very important information. In my opinion, no one has the film in hand like the director. Then I come with my ideas, which are refined, or replaced if something doesn't work. It also happened on this film: things that Paola and I had agreed upon, once written, we realized that they didn't work. The important thing is to have intellectual honesty and put the ego aside. I don't believe much in ego, especially in this profession.
Self-taught at 14, "emotional enjoyer" of music
Have you always wanted to be a composer?
Music yes, even if I started very late: at 14, by ear, self-taught. But music has always fascinated me a lot and has always moved me a lot; Even when I was little I could be moved listening to her. I've always listened to a lot of it, and of all types. First of all I am an emotional user of music, perhaps I am not a lover of those who have a hundred thousand records all classified; I'm definitely very bulimic in listening. And I have always been very attracted to cinema. For me the union is a dream, something perfect: in this respect I am perhaps the happiest man in the world doing this job.
Advice to young composers: find your own sound
What advice would you give to those who want to undertake this profession? Dos and don'ts?
There would be several, but they only derive from experience, because I would be a terrible teacher, precisely because of my self-taught approach. One thing to remember is that those who make music for films write music that must serve the images, or be the protagonist, but which is in any case part of a larger project. You can write the most beautiful music in the world, or that seems to you to be the most beautiful in the world, but if it has nothing to do with that point the film won't be good. So you have to be ready to retrace your steps. Being good composers is fundamental, it is the starting point, but you also need to be a great cinema fan and have the sensitivity to understand which music works in one point rather than another. And then I would say not to try to emulate or copy the musicians overseas or the great composers we have had here, but to bring your own style, your own sound and your own sensitivity to cinema and serials. Don't necessarily distort yourself. I am the first to seek out different musical worlds, but I do so by falling into it hand and foot, experiencing that very musical world. Trying to copy, for example, the music of Hans Zimmer, or of composers who work on types of films that we don't produce in Italy... It's one thing to set the music for Gladiator, it's another thing to write the music for an Italian or French arthouse film: it's just another type of code. The important thing is that there is a thought behind it. Reflect, before starting to write, on what the meaning of the film is, on what it wants to say, discuss with the director and understand what the music wants to tell about the story that unfolds on the screen.
Upcoming projects, from Farouk Kassam to Tony Pitony
2026 was an important year: A beautiful day, The common good, Balcanica, awarded at the Giornate degli Autori. What are you working on now?
I'm working, as you can imagine, on different things, in different states of completion. 177 days will be released on Rai 1 on 16 November. Farouk's kidnapping, then A window overlooking the lake must be released (on Rai 1 from 24 November, ed.), a very nice series with Antonio Folletto, by Marco Pontecorvo. These are projects already done, and in both I write together with Emanuele Bossi. As far as cinema is concerned, however, I'm now starting to work on Tony Pitony's film. It will be a challenge, also because he is an active musician, as well as a very nice person, so I decided to accept this challenge. Among other things, the director is Volfango De Biasi, the first person who gave me my debut. Then we made many films together, I think about ten, mostly comedies.
From cinema to seriality, a "slightly more industrial" work
You have also done a lot of television, from The Principal to The Waves of the Past and Little Fish. Is the approach different there too?
In serial production you often have to deal with multiple figures, especially when you work with platforms. It's not just the director: you work very closely with the editors, with the editor, there are the platform notes, the production notes. It's a slightly different type of work, perhaps slightly more industrial, but it depends on the type of series and how much time you're given. Generally speaking, the approach is always the same: the search for the right sound, the type of musical story, a sort of emotional score to give, the discussion with the director. The production part changes a bit, in the sense that usually many themes are written which are then rearranged and reused within eight episodes. It is difficult for eight episodes to be set to music in full, scene by scene, while in cinema this is more frequent.
What's left, on the bus
So the circle closes on that bus. The boys sing, Gino watches them, and we spectators, says Braga, imagine Giulia among them, because life goes on, unfortunately or fortunately, especially for those who remain. It is there that his music finds its meaning: not just tragedy, but, alongside the desperation of some moments, "a hope with a strong melancholy". Which, for a story like Giulia Cecchettin's, is perhaps the most honest way not to forget.
