vellutogrigio

I need to quote Turkish. The situation of Saviano, after the latest and concrete threats, is delicate, so the discussion may be unpopular and bothersome. But until a few days ago, I myself had the impression that a sort of "mythography" was being created around Saviano… not to mention that strange boxing stunt that appeared right in “L’espresso,” or the very interview he gave to Biagi a year and a half ago. As for the book, I believe it is well written, perhaps a bit challenging at the beginning, and informative. Here too, however, one could raise a “point” about the writer: the narration is often centered on the “I” – it doesn’t always have the objectivity of an external narrator or a journalist, as much as that is possible – almost as if Saviano, in describing the degradation of a certain world, wants to commit a sort of parricide: and the pages dedicated to the father, to the culture that the father himself was imbued with, seem to confirm this. Even in this, it is difficult to distinguish the writer from the character.

... speeches that CANNOT be summarized... I must be my own judge in a harsh way. No way.

Thank you all for the feedback on my "debut"; I expected worse! Special thanks to Ghemison, who has been too kind to me. @Lavalin: just last night someone was having a conversation with me similar to yours, referencing—I'm not sure if you've ever read it—Gadda and "Pasticciaccio..." (and criticizing me for not having read it!), highlighting essentially how this non-crime novel also ends up being a pretext to narrate the unknowable and, if you think about it, the difficulty of interpreting reality, the many possible explanations of the world. Gadda and Dürrenmatt are indeed pessimists, but I believe that by focusing on the subject as both interpreter and investigator, one can also hope for a world that is more respectful of the individual, where the subject is valued more than the object. These are, in any case, complex discussions that cannot be summarized in a post. Regarding Dürrenmatt: La panne, Greco cerca Greca, Il sospetto (always with Barlach, it deals with the Holocaust), La Promessa, Giustizia, and the Stories.

Sorry, in fact the review has a serious error regarding Durrenmatt's dates of birth and death: 1921 - 1990. It's better to be, at least, a good judge of oneself.

@Lavalin: no, I haven’t disappeared, I just had a busy summer on various fronts. You would understand. Regarding the relationship between sport and Fascism, it's interesting to note how in the 1920s and 1930s the CONI was created and there was a real "statization" of sports and leisure, removed from individual availability and private sphere, and became, just like any other activity of minimal social relevance, "public matter," and, above all, something to be "managed." The Welfare State was evolving: sports and leisure, controlled by the State, became a tool to "totalize" reality. Almost better those who risk their underwear on bets. And here I could tell you about a guy I know who... @Blackdog: okay Baptista, but on the Roman front I’m surprised by Zarate, which proves that talent isn't in the genes, given the older brother's Italian career. In any case, I’m like Il_Paolo, a Juventus fan (Paolo, the fact that you are clearly from Busto Arsizio explains a lot about you) but I believe that in the end the scudetto will head towards Milan. I hope it's for Inter, to be honest, choosing the lesser evil.

Excellent. The Suicide were not bad at all. Your memories are nice too.

A fun review resonating with sentiment for a theme that has never truly been explored by Italian cinema: Sordi tempted us with "Il presidente del Borgorosso...", Avati with "Ultimo minuto", and indeed Vanzina, but with lesser ambitions - let's say - with this one. You, a bit of a victim of the hermeneutic circuit you've created, attribute too many meanings to what remains, nonetheless, a fun signifier. You also give me the chance for a reflection I’ve been carrying for a while: that of Pasolini's Ur-fascism that lies behind football and its slogans (for which "non mollare mai," which LaRock naively invokes, echoes the ancient "boia chi molla"), going through the military parade, complete with neofascist banners, of the victorious national team in 2006. Regardless of the phenomenon of the curves. And what unsettles me most is those who, starting from the football slogan and the visibility linked to football, have built a political empire on it (with loyal disciples: the fact that Milan was the workers' team and is now one of B.'s main support bases leaves me speechless, worth more than a thousand political reflections). To this, add this: Quel fascino per la camicia nera che cresce nel mondo del calcio - Calcio - Sport - Repubblica.it

A funny review and in tune with the sentiment for a theme that has never really been explored by Italian cinema: Sordi tried with "Il presidente del Borgorosso...", Avati with "Ultimo minuto", and indeed Vanzina, but with lesser ambitions - let’s say it - with this. You, somewhat a victim of the hermeneutic circuit you’ve created, attribute too many meanings to what remains, nonetheless, a fun signifier. You also give me the opportunity for a reflection I’ve been carrying for a while: that of the Pasolinian Ur-fascism that lies behind football, and its slogans (for which the "never give up" that laRock innocently recalls echoes the ancient memory of "boia chi molla"), through the military parade, complete with neofascist banners, of the victorious national team in 2006. Regardless, then, of the phenomenon of the curves. And what unsettles me the most are those who, starting from the football slogan and the visibility derived from it, have built a political empire (with faithful followers: the fact that Milan was the workers' team, and that today it is one of the main support bases of B. leaves me bewildered, worth more than a thousand political reflections). To this, add this: Quel fascino per la camicia nera che cresce nel mondo del calcio - Calcio - Sport - Repubblica.it

After watching it again, I might have reconsidered the film's ending: breaking out of one's shell is possible; you just have to want it, and Giorgi's "baciami stupido" to Verdone, in its simplicity and instinctiveness, is perhaps the sign of two destinies and two affinities that nothing can truly separate (not even the protagonist's unwanted marriage, let alone anything else). Or, at least, that's how I like to think.

A bit verbose - it depends on your passion for the genre, I believe - but extremely valid and technical in its description. You should write more on this site.