Bridget Trama,Jerry Ferris

Jerry Ferris,Jack Ryland,Tod Engle

Jerry Ferris,Tod Engle,Christina Romanello


"A heartfelt movie that transcends syrupy nostalgia for a tale about loss and regret."
-- The NY Daily News
"A pensive romantic journey"
-- Film Monthly

WRITER/DIRECTOR: Philip Cioffari
STARRING: Tod Engle, Jerry Ferris, Marta Milans, Christina Romanello, Jack Ryland, Bridget Trama, Waverly Yates.

Director of Photography--Victor Longtin;

Editor--Jack Haigis;

Art Direction--Ray Groff;

Line Producer--Ray Mosser


For twenty-six years Frankie Razzini has carried the picture of his first love in his wallet. Now, with his second marriage on the rocks, his life in L.A. in shambles, he returns to his old neighborhood in the Bronx, looking for her and hoping to find the answers for what's gone wrong in his life. With his childhood buddy and two women from the neighborhood, he re-visits his favorite haunts. What he finds changes his (and their) lives in startling and unexpected ways.  (Feature film, 90 minutes. Status: as yet, unreleased) 


Best Feature Film, Long Island Int'l Film Expo
Best Director, NY Independent Int'l Film and Video Festival
Best Actor (Jerry Ferris), Hoboken Int'l Film Festival
Nominee, Best Director, Hoboken Int'l Film Festival
Nominee, Best Feature Film, Staten Island Film Festival
Official selection, Rhode Island Int'l Film Festival
Official selection, Wildwood By The Sea Film Festival
Anthology Film Archives/New Filmmakers Series

From the jacket copy:

“These stories, for the most part, are about the young, and the various kinds of loss suffered by the young—which is to say, the loss of innocence at the hands of experience. Those moments when we experience loss are defining moments. They shape character, serve as platforms upon which lives are built. In fascinating, and often painful ways, they expose life’s mysteries. They enrich us.


The settings in this collection are varied: Atlantic City, Key West, upstate New York, the back roads of the South and—for many of the stories—the streets of the Bronx. Place, like loss, is also a transformative force. It lives inside these characters, shapes desire and the actions that derive from desire.”



Excerpt from the title story, “A History of Things Lost or Broken:”


            My brother Massimo, known to everyone except our parents as “Max,” fancied


himself a student of the dark side of human nature, an unofficial investigator of the


mysteries of the universe. In our East Bronx housing project, he was the neighborhood


historian, having won the St. Helena high school history medal four years in a row.  He


was obsessed with the origin of things, the turning points, the moments of crisis that


shaped the lives of heroic or infamous figures in this world’s drama.


            He told me once he liked the order history superimposed--illusory, of course, and


always in retrospect--on the otherwise random events of our lives.  Day to day, he


explained, there seems no overall purpose to what we do; but after you die, history steps


in and says see, there was a pattern after all, your life did mean something, too bad you


couldn’t see it.


            From as far back as I can remember he filled me with stories about our section of


the Bronx, Orchard Beach and the swamps of Pelham Bay, and the Catholic Protectorate


with its wide, grassy lawns that gave way to our housing project in 1940: a


“revolutionary” residential community designed to maximize space by clustering twelve-


story hi-rise buildings around park-like ovals of trees and grass.  On Saturday mornings


when he was in junior high, he conducted walking tours around the project, moving from


building to building, explaining the mythological significance of the terra-cotta gargoyles


that graced our entranceways or softened the sharp edges of our walls, the winged angels


and reclining maidens, the beastly kingdom of bears, lions and eagles that distinguished


our housing development from the dozens of other projects throughout the five boroughs.


            In the years between 1958 and 1963, Max--who was five years my senior—


introduced me to the hidden life of our world . . .