Il_Paolo

I am only reading this now and, not to play the contrarian a priori, I do not agree with many of the praises directed towards Fazio and Saviano himself. I have the utmost respect for the latter, of course, wishing him not to meet the fate of the unfortunate Siani (the one killed without any warning from anyone, and for investigations less well-known to the general public than “Gomorra”), but I believe that, as usual in Italy, the spotlight is focused on one person to distract from what Sciascia, in a beautiful novel, called “Il contesto” (from which “Cadaveri eccellenti” emerged). Bringing the hero on television, kneeling before his example as if he were the new saint to whom we should ask for a miracle, is nothing more than a way to wash one's conscience, or, alternatively, to feel participatory, from the interviewer’s seat or from the comfort of one’s home, in the “wave of emotion,” the “awakening of civil society,” the “pride of the country,” and so on. At the same time, once the spectacle is over, the lights are turned off, and everything remains more or less the same (even though the hardcore of Rai3 would have something to say about it). If I had been on Rai3, I would have broadcast “Le mani sulla città” by Rosi, invited Saviano himself, a member of the majority, a member of the opposition, a representative of the order of architects, one from Confindustria, and one from the workers' unions to discuss the Government's “piano casa.” In summary, the usual hypocritical operation at “no cost.” Seriously yours, Il_Paolo

Romeo1985 HAS OUTSHINED ME. This is the fact that must remain firmly etched on these pages, confirming my intentions to quit last January. Back then, there was a bitter taste in my mouth saying, "will someone carry on that 'mission'?", fearing to end up like Emperor Hadrian with his successor Commodus, or Platini with Ian Rush, Andreotti with Martinazzoli. But after less than three months, the answer can only be said to be plenoastica: THANK YOU ROMEO, one day I will take pride in having sparked what you are accomplishing. This in no way diminishes other champions like Il giustiziere, of course, or Birbissima and Rivoli, who remain the other three knights of my dreams (without apocalypse). I appreciate the mention of "Grandi Magazzini" (you should know I wrote about it back then) as well as the vivid maritime picture of the summer that is passing. Regarding Heather, I remember her quite well and want to emphasize how she was the archetype back then, "the pleasant and carefree - sexually innocent and harmless," thus lacking genuine appeal and sexual charisma sufficient to attract the attention of us young and very young: it is no coincidence that Heather became, years later, a gay icon (and partly lesbian: although, as far as I know, she is not). This meant that her presence in evening shows was essentially harmless and perfectly in line with a national television that - before "Drive In" - still acted as a vestal of the family (you could say the same about Carrà in the '70s, who was also, not by coincidence, a gay icon) and was careful not to stir the lustful appetites of husbands (Fantozzi, in fact, in one of the contemporary films, tunes into local networks - including Telemilano - in search of forbidden passions). It was the same RAI of the Corrado - Renato Zero duo ('82), where the entrance of a Wanda Osiris of cross-dressing into Italian homes was "tolerated," with the implicit label of bizarre and exotic that served to neutralize its subversive charge by incorporating it into the system, but there was scandal for any centimeter of skin displayed by woman - woman (back then, the must have been probably Viola Valentino). All this rambling to tell you not to be saddened by not having met Heather: as a man, she wouldn't have told you much anyway; at most, you would have shared a couple of laughs and a beer. Historically Yours, Il_Paolo

Very good, you write well and have the merit of internalizing the described work. They have always unsettled me, but they remain phenomena especially in terms of emotional tension, which culminates... in nothingness. It's an "Waiting for Godot" where it’s clear that what will come is death (of the souls, of the senses). Anyway, tomorrow I'm going to buy the CD (having only heard it briefly).

So beautiful, I saw it in the cinema with my father when it was released, and I still keep, jealously, in the stairwell of my house, the drawing I made a few days later with the boat and the treasure map. The title song is also playing on my iPod. Good times.

Thanks Romeo, but enough with the hyperboles (like magnificent). I'd rather be remembered as simple, naive, and humble. Cinofilo-cinefilo is not a mistake, since according to official criticism these films are made, acted, and written "by dogs." But that's not the case, as, following the footsteps of one Luneberg, I believe that perfection lies in abjection, and thus these films, so abject and neglected, tell us more about the world than it may seem and more than perhaps the authors themselves intended. Humbly Yours, Il_Paolo

By the way, I feel completely outclassed (by you, the Avenger, Rivoli, Birba, etc.). I’m vintage and “minor” too, now. Modestly Yours, Il_Paolo.

Dear Romeo, your comments, so late they seem like epitaphs, embarrass me! Thank you anyway; the best compliment you could pay me is, in any case, to grow as a reviewer on this site and to dare more and more in both discussion and style, obviously together with the Avenger: I ask you if you could review something by Malika (the one from Sanremo) and the song “Come foglie,” which is connected to this review, or even Karima (the one from Amici or Sanremo). Regarding the film, the phrase you refer to is “I was twenty... I will not allow anyone to say that this is the most beautiful age of life,” invoked by this feature in quite a caustic manner. I was satisfied with this Sunday writing from last May, which suggested several dialectically related themes: authority vs freedom (the police station scene); freedom vs recklessness (the libertarian drift of the film and the protagonists' obliviousness destined, due to their in-geniusness, to succumb); strength vs anarchy (the final repression regarding the fates of our protagonists); masculine vs feminine (the whole story itself), and, last but not least, patriarchal culture vs creativity (the scene with Carati placing encyclopedias ironically alludes to this and reflects the opinions of the pseudo-intellectual bigots on the site vs the novelty and expressive urgency represented by Birbabirba, Rivoli, yourself, or the mentioned Avenger). However, I remember how the deepest and most current dilemma raised by the film is also the one most snubbed by the very discussion above, namely Lilli Carati vs Gloria Guida, which in turn contains some abysmal sub-dilemmas based on deep and labyrinthine antitheses (brunette vs blonde; Mediterranean beauty vs Nordic beauty; blatant eroticism vs cunning; wild hair vs groomed hair; heroine vs motherhood; pornography vs Johnny Dorelli; redemption vs bourgeoisification: interview from D’Eusanio vs Domenica In). You also interrogate yourself. Antithetically (but also pleasantly) Yours, Il_Paolo.

Beautiful review, great Vendrame and Zigoni, stars of a football that no longer exists like that of the '70s. I agree with those who hint at the biancorosso color of our protagonist's face (a mix between George Best and Mauro Corona); Padova, after all, leans more towards orange than red itself: and Vendrame in Vicenza is mythology, obviously behind Rossi, Rondon, Cantarutti, Murgita-Otero, but not too far behind in the end. Certain literary operations, like this one and others, may leave plenty to be desired, often being transcripts by diligent editors of the stream of consciousness, yet there remains the curiosity to read them to see how true jugglers of the ball, and not just, have squandered their talents on the altar of a value very much in vogue at the time: freedom (not the Popolo della Libertà). As for your editorial on Carfagna, I don’t think it’s misogynistic, and I'll refer you to an old reflection of mine: between making the Velina a Minister and the horse a senator, I don’t know who’s better off between Caligula and the current President. With the difference that Caligula was the supposed embodiment of a god and wasn’t elected by popular vote from the majority of Italians. Italically Yours, but also freely Yours, Il_Paolo.

Nice review, and I don't think it's a dig at my "style," if only because the mission is different (I would have acclimatized it by discussing the charm of Belpaese for the English and not only, think of the Gothic novel "The Castle of Otranto"). You handle the subject with a much more "pure" approach than I do, more attentive to the object itself and the importance of the Author. Mal was very good, I like him, and his imitation by the Skiantos in "Mi piaccion le sbarbine" is iconic. Anyway, alright. Of course, it feels a bit strange to see others dealing with "I grandi successi originali"... but so be it.

You're good, but: 1) I prefer you dealing with material that's less "easy," in the sense of the predictably valid Orme; 2) correct me if I'm wrong, but I sometimes suspect that in your reviews there are more or less implicit messages towards this rather unaffectionate person regarding you. Have you ever thought about having her read your review on Nico Fidenco or, even better, preparing a CD for her with the best of the Italian music you appreciate, especially the "minor" stuff that I, you, Birba, or Rivoli enjoy? You'd better assess whether you desire her or her soul; 3) the "Orme" are okay, I like their Mestrina poetics (Cemento armato), even in recent decades Tagliapietra has turned to a questionable orientalism. In any case, an enviable technique and a taste for songwriting that you don't find in other groups from the prog era. Epochally yours, Il_Paolo