In A Land Within (Zweitland or Second Country), South Tyrolean native Michael Kofler sheds light on a historical chapter that is likely unknown to many filmgoers outside of Italy and Austria. Indeed, even in his home region, it was long a taboo subject. When people today talk about (violent) separatist movements in Europe, most immediately think of the IRA in Ireland or the ETA in Spain. But in northern Italy, too, acts of violence occurred starting in 1961. A group attempted to forcefully achieve the reunification of South Tyrol with Austria. Initially, the attacks were directed only against objects and infrastructure, but soon they claimed human lives. The film is showing at the Palm Springs International Film Festival on Sunday, January 11, 2026, at 11:00 AM, in Festival Theatre 2. Tickets are available.
There are historical constellations that are merely footnotes in European post-war historiography – too small for the big stage, too complex for simple narratives. South Tyrol is one such example. In Zweitland, Michael Kofler dedicates himself to precisely this seemingly peripheral history: the tensions within the German-speaking population of the northern Italian province in the early 1960s, shortly before and after the so-called “Night of Fire.” In doing so, the filmmaker, himself from South Tyrol, also succeeds in creating an impressive, keenly observed drama about timeless themes: political radicalization and the fatal spiral of violence.
At the center is Paul (Thomas Prenn), a young man with artistic ambitions who feels increasingly isolated in the valley where he grew up. He and his best friend Hans (Fabian Mair Mitterer) are waiting in line at the employment office in neighboring Bolzano. The jobs are going exclusively to Italian applicants – an injustice that doesn’t seem accidental, but rather appears to be systemic. The frustration runs deep, especially for Hans, who sees more than just his origins in his mountain home: a place that must be defended. Paul, on the other hand, dreams of Munich, of studying art – and wonders if he can convince Hans to come with him.
However, family obligations complicate Paul’s decision. The farm is run by his older brother Anton (Laurence Rupp), who has proudly, harshly, and with conservative conviction, taken on the role of patriarch. Anton doesn’t believe in art, but in work. The sculptures of their deceased father in the barn – a liberal and silent opponent of Hitler, who drank himself to death – are considered by him a monument to a “pipe dream,” a failed existence. Paul’s charcoal drawings hang next to them like foreign objects.
Paul is stuck between the expectations of his authoritarian brother, the heavy legacy of his father, and the strong urge to go his own way. This inner tension forms the emotional core of a film that sensitively intertwines political developments with family conflicts and personal costs. The situation finally escalates when numerous power pylons in the region are blown up in a single night: a coordinated attack that later goes down in history as the “Night of Fire.” The action of the South Tyrolean separatist movement is directed against infrastructure, not people, but an Italian worker dies.
The Italian Carabinieri react with raids and arrests, and Hans is also arrested. When Paul witnesses him being severely mistreated at the police station, he himself is drawn into the events: To get Hans released, he is supposed to betray his brother Anton, who has long been part of the separatist movement and was involved in the attacks. The desire to leave his homeland now becomes an obligation for Paul to stay: Anton flees, which – with bitter irony – binds him to the farm.
Zweitland then impressively shows how violence becomes self-perpetuating: Every bomb is followed by a raid, every raid by a new attack – a constantly expanding cycle in which cause and effect become increasingly indistinguishable and diplomatic solutions become ever more unlikely. And: While Anton, in Austrian exile, becomes increasingly radicalized and plans targeted attacks on Italian cities with his terrorist group, it is Paul, Anton’s wife (Aenne Schwarz), and their son who bear the brunt of the consequences back home.
Although only a supporting character, Anna is the most compelling figure in this ensemble: Michael Kofler imbues her with modern traits of female self-assertion without making her seem anachronistic. Amidst an increasingly polarized environment, she publicly maintains a stance that is most uncomfortable in such times: that of reconciliation. Paul, with whom the film remains most closely aligned, on the other hand, wavers between his own pacifist convictions and his loyalty to his brother, his best friend, and almost risks becoming radicalized himself as a result.
In the end, there is no sense of resolution, but rather one of profound shock. Zweitland (or A Land Within) refuses easy answers, precisely because violence is not depicted here as a liberating act, but as a destructive force that holds all sides hostage, engulfing everyone – even those who try to avoid it. Felix Wiedemann’s deliberate camerawork moves between sweeping landscape shots and claustrophobic close-ups, working in conjunction with meticulously detailed and authentic set design – and showing how political tension subtly infiltrates the bodies and relationships of the characters.
