Il_Paolo

Welcome back Lavalìn, review a film – and a cycle of films – that I appreciate very much; vividly and personally. As for the “trilogy of colors,” I once believed that films should be seen and considered separately, each one the evolution of the other, with “Red Film” concluding and explaining them. However, I have come to realize that I was mistaken and that all three are, in fact, “the same film” (just like The Decalogue), and, essentially, the same story: they represent merely different, ambivalent responses (freedom also understood as liberation, equality also understood as retribution for guilt, fraternity also understood as a renunciation of something more intense) to the same existential problem, namely the trauma of detachment and separation from what one has been, or thinks one is, prompted by events resulting from chance or destiny that somehow demand a response and a reaction, and at the same time a "renunciation" of oneself. In practice, in this and the other films, you find possible answers to the question I implicitly raised in my review last year about Nicola di Bari (which could confirm the criticisms of those who believe you are a fake of mine!) even though they are neither peaceful nor univocal. The hoped-for synthesis is that one of the possible answers, the most ineffable though, and also the hardest to identify, is given by my almost namesake (_Il) Paolo of Tarsus, where he speaks of Love (to be understood in a thousand ways) that transcends Time, and that is vivified by the trial to which both Time itself and pain subject it. A synthesis that, starting from the intimate, transcends all possible separations and the very idea of Time as a passage from the past to the future. A kind of eternal Present, where all the characters in this film and beyond find themselves, ultimately united. I will stop here and not go further, as these are increasingly complex themes far from what was (but maybe “is”) my mission on these pages: lest I end up talking so much about the present that I don’t review “Pierino contro tutti” watched last Sunday afternoon. Presently Yours, Il_Paolo.

There’s a misunderstanding: Toto resembles Gene Simmons (especially from the "Runaway" days with Tom Selleck) and not Paul Stanley!!!!!! Compare them, for example, on the cover of Lick It Up ('83).

So much verbiage to avoid giving the deserved grades...

Hello Rivoli, I saw that you asked about me! Perhaps you don’t know that since January I’ve said goodbye to the site (at least as a reviewer), withdrawing from the scene for "mission accomplished" (if you stop by to give a proper 5 to my last review, I’d appreciate it). I always said, following Gozzano, that "the voice is little / and the preferred art is immense," so at a certain point the voice ran out, and all that remains of me are the vestiges. That said, in these months, there are those who have taken up the banner of my old passion—namely, making this site a space for 360° debate on music and art, without the prejudices of those who believe that real music or art is only the Swedish alternative core or Missouri's hc, or even the lounge pop jazz of the Camargue—like Romeo1985, not to mention authors like you or Birbabirba. I always remember you with pleasure, and in the evenings, when I take off my clerical robes, in front of my lectern I put on my glasses and read some of your printed reviews, as well as the comments from those who unjustly criticize you. For this, I THANK YOU. That said: GENIUS the comparison between Gene Simmons (some superficial person up there mistakenly speaks of Paul Stanley) and our Toto, which, as you well know, I poorly reviewed at my beginning. I adore the pieces you mention, but the one I remember most is "La mia musica," along with "Flash," taken from the legendary Thursday evening show "Superflash" by Mike: from that piece you correctly invoke the saturated and echoing guitar jams, futuristic ‘80s and still relevant (I still remember the legendary living room where I watched it!!!!!!!), but what about the lyrics? I post them here as a gift and tribute to my principal inspiration ("Andrea True Connection" is one of your best; I started writing to imitate you). So, let’s read how Toto mixed the personal and the political:
I never expected such news
suddenly you...
I fall in love at first sight
one single meeting and then,
I put you here on my newspaper,
it’s a priceless paper, you know...
that only I read ah ah ah...
For that extra smile
you’re like an arrow to the heart
and among the people you,
I look for you without making noise,
and then my hand
holds you, then takes you away,
the big surprise headline is:
"The first kiss between us" ah ah ah
Flash... inside my eyes
Flash... who knows what I would give for you
You appeared like a flash
What would I do for you ah ah ah
A long summit
on the problems of the future
on the front page
of the newspaper of my heart
and then a strike
for conflicts between us,
the very last edition is
"I seek a home with you"
Flash... inside my dreams
Flash... who knows what I would do for you
You appeared like a flash
What would I do for you ah ah ah. Totally Yours, Il_Paolo

This is truly your best!!! Nothing to add. I really appreciate the overlap of images at the end of the piece; there’s a kind of cross-cutting from the furnished room in a shabby style to your train journey towards this girl who stood you up, which, honestly, I couldn’t have described better. The positive aspect of your reviews is that even in the sad events of life, you impose a form of "disenchanted optimism" that is truly commendable.

Ah, Romeo, I almost forgot. I've always liked her: a woman from the Po Valley with hair as red as a shining sun.

I haven't read the entire debate sparked by the reviews of Romeo1985, but here and there I have caught glimpses of the not-so-tolerant stance of many (including the good IRIDE, whom I greet cordially) who essentially censure the reviewer for being either a provocateur, a fake, or a sincere listener of what I've previously defined, in less suspect times, as "minor" music. I don't want to defend anyone, but it seems to me that the experience related to my old reviews hasn't taught much: my thought is that everyone is free to write, and everyone to comment, and that the added value of the site lies in the relationship between the quality of the review and the comments. Sometimes it seems that reviewing music despised by the majority is an exercise in style, but at times the ensuing debate, if constructive, can be deeper than that which arises around serious artists. Having said that, I invite Romeo1985 not to give up, and I thank him for continuing (even if in part and with a different mood) what once was my "mission" and is now a pleasant memory. To the others I say: if it annoys you, why do you comment? Moreover, your irritation could push me to return and support Romeo1985, remembering that no one has reviewed Lena Biolcati, nor Gianni Miani or Sandro Giacobbe. Menacingly Yours, Il_Paolo

Dear Romeo1985, you improve with each review, starting in this one by highlighting certain data, seemingly extratextual, that enrich your narrative weave, enhancing its overall effectiveness. I particularly think of the reference made to a character from the famous film “Il sorpasso” by Risi (’62), which adds an interdisciplinary and evocative layer to the writing, or the repeated ethical and sentimental references drawn from Fidenco's lyrics, which ultimately acclimate the reader in a classic, and as you aptly put it, velvety atmosphere of nostalgia or the search for time and desired good. All of this has more or less hidden Proustian influences, where memory is revisited, perhaps rewritten, and even recreated (overvaluing oneself, one’s memory, the very object of one’s memories, while parallelly elevating oneself to the authors of one's “Self,” somehow bringing the Present and the Current to life). I appreciate it greatly and thank you for the beautiful page, which partly reminds me of who I was. In this regard, following in my footsteps – also in the selection of review topoi, as well as preferred authors (I wrote about Jimmy Fontana, who, alongside Fidenco himself, Gianni Meccia, and Riccardo Del Turco, forms a sort of tetrarchy of entertainment and confessional music from the Italian sixties) – you remind me a lot of a Borges character, who at a certain point decides to rewrite Cervantes' Don Quixote, not by copying it, but by putting himself in the same conditions as the deceased Spanish author, striving to be "him" and to take up, recreate, the work (you also bring to mind “Tenebre” by Dario Argento as further examples of mimesis between writers/authors. Brrrr). You are still a bit far from achieving this goal – which I do not wish for you entirely – because the “ex” Il_Paolo would have spiced up the review with a couple of information that seem to have escaped you: not only the essential fact of Fidenco as a composer and performer of cartoon theme songs in the early ’80s, well pointed out by other commentators (I fondly remember “Don Chuck Castoro,” perhaps one of the most beautiful and entertaining of the time), but also, and above all, the importance of Fidenco (presumed) as a composer of soundtracks for soft and (perhaps) hardcore films, thus epitomizing the multiplicities of being and the Janus-like ambiguity of the members of the aforementioned tetrarchy (I refer you to the Jimmy Fontana I reviewed). From here, you could have developed a reflection on the multiplicities of the world and the fluidity of the very attempt to grasp its essence, in the face of which what remains imprinted in the mind after a certain experience can be as fantastic as a story invented ex nihilo: this would also explain the implicit meaning in the elusive verse “tied to a grain of sand,” as a recreation of a liquid and formless universe à la Dalì, in light of the impossibility of a full and rational understanding of the world and life as they are. Creatively Yours, Il_Paolo.

Thank you Romeo1985, people like you or The Punisher make my withdrawal from the world of reviews feel less lonely, and ideally continue, as you well know, my ancient mission, with the irreducible Birba and Rivoli, making this site more complete and - why not? - more likable than the competition (e.g. Ondarock but also Scaruffi). You hit the mark with "La notte" (although Adamo does not fit into my canon of "minor" art for reasons that are a bit complex to explain here and now), even though I have a soft spot for "Non sei tu," another evergreen from the Italobelgian bard. Listen to them and compare: besides the sublime technique of the final trills in Adamo's piece, there is a diametric message in the respective lyrics. Giusy asks another not to be forgotten (we will never know the reasons for the abandonment, and in this lies the indeterminacy of Poetry) while Adamo claims for himself the right to forget another, as a demand arising from disillusionment or from the Schopenhauerian unveiling of reality (even here we don’t know the causes, everything is enveloped in a lack of determinism that charms). Keep going, remembering that everything is reviewable and everything is sayable (with grace and politeness, without falling into the traps of provocateurs and self-proclaimed holders of the Word and Logos). Logically Yours, Il_Paolo

As above. What I like about Alexia is a certain optimistic charge; her heart and soul definitely vibrate in "major." That said, it's still music that falls within my canon of "minor" art... with corresponding ratings. Consequently yours, Il_Paolo