Il_Paolo

@Psycho: Do you doubt the virtues of Albano's mom? I saw your Cochise in "The Warriors," by W. Hill, 1979. That's the right one, it's actually called Kocis: link rotto

Rivoli, it takes genius to mention Kocis, so you are one! He was the stone guest of my review. That said, I completely agree about Romina and it irritates me that: a) no one reminds her of her debut in “Justine” by Jess Franco; aa) the fact that she was a lolita of the swingin' Rome; aaa) no one emphasizes the fact that she was a beautiful woman, even after 4 pregnancies. It's really a shame that they remember her for the dance of the quack.

@Muffin, maybe you didn't understand: I was wondering what percentage of extraordinary talents exist among men. Intuitively, we would say very few, because, as they say, a Mozart is born every 500 years. But what if it weren't like that? I mean, what if there were many Mozarts, but due to the circumstances of life, they weren't given the chance to discover their talent? I also hope that when you talk about "stupidity" you are not referring to me; in that case, you would have disappointed me, not for the merit of the remark (that's your business) but for the way you don't justify your evaluations. Sincerely yours, Il_Paolo

Albano is the given name of Carrisi. But the stage name, more correctly, is Al Bano, essentially Americanizing the name itself. It was trendy in the '60s, in line with a certain foreign taste. Over the years, I believe Carrisi has used his real name or stage name interchangeably: the issue, as evident, is superstructural. @Adder: I don’t think I have “talent,” nor “qualities”… but in my opinion, there’s nothing more poetic, and genuinely human, than wasted qualities and talents. Every now and then, I’m flooded with these thoughts: how many of us might be geniuses in a particular field (sports, applied sciences, music) but never find the opportunity in life to connect with their talent. Who knows how many workers, plumbers, or whatever else might have been brilliant music composers, and how many musicians could have been great technicians, craftsmen, scientists… but simply never expressed themselves? Who knows how many Maradona’s NEVER kicked a ball, and how many Mozart’s NEVER touched a musical instrument? This is somewhat tangential to my opening discourse, but I wanted to share my thoughts with you, perhaps because it’s raining today and I don’t feel like working… Always Yours, Il_Paolo

@muito: you've hit the mark, unfortunately. But, you'll agree with me, when talking about Al Bano and Romina, life overshadows art, making it hard to focus on their songs. In the next review, I plan to do better, properly dissecting the characteristics of the work being discussed. Thank you nonetheless for the appreciation and interest!

Dear Velluto, thank you for the defense ex officio. Indeed, I am sorry that some people use the themes I have reviewed, tugging them by the sleeve to defend one thesis or another. Both are valid, moreover, because the truth is not in anyone's hands. This is the spice of life, dear Poletti. Then it bothers me that every other day you bring up Hitler as a subject of discussion for the sake of a reevaluation: there are objective data against Hitler, there is no room for revisionism. That said, revisionism, if conducted on sound methodological bases, is not in itself a bad thing.

@Cravest: it may be true that in the TV broadcasts of the mid-'80s it drew as many as 10 million viewers, but to infer from that "that it’s not all that bad" is a stretch. The film is terrible, although interesting as I hope I have demonstrated.

@lavalin: I have had only one dog in my life, just like Flash from Hazzard. I believe I've said it all!

@Lavalin, the "heritage" concerning Benedetta from III C is interesting. You might not know that Elmi was a small but constant "dark" presence in various genre films throughout the '70s: among others, "Profondo Rosso" (she is the little girl who acts as deus ex machina), "Reazione a catena" (same), "Chi l'ha vista morire" (victim), and others you can discover by browsing online. As for "Professione Vacanze," it was indeed a little summer-themed TV show featuring Jerry Calà and other talented character actors (the poor Jenny Tamburi, for instance, but also Giuliana Calandra), which, however, did not aspire to become a "series." Regarding Federica Moro, I don't know what happened to her - I believe she occasionally makes some appearances on TV or in shows, but I'm not sure - I can tell you that she is one of the most detrimental products of '80s aesthetics, as well as being one of the most overrated Miss Italia winners of all time.

About "The Kids of Class III C," it must be said that it was a handcrafted product, sometimes haphazard, but reliable: featuring a great cast of character actors (Allocca, Nicheli, Fassari, etc.) and a group of young actors, some very talented (Ferrari, Bracconeri, Elmi), others effective as “types” (Cestiè, Gusberti). Those who lived through the era of paninari, darks, rockabilly, metallers, etc., can also confirm the sociological relevance of the series: at the time, it captured reality quite well; viewed today, it might evoke tenderness or unease depending on perspectives, but its gaze on the middle world was not superficial.
I have mentioned that series (itself a kind of spin-off of "Vacanze in America" by the Vanzina brothers, which I will return to soon) because "College" (still featuring Ferrari and Bracconeri) was an attempt by then Fininvest to continue the success of Class III C, which had now reached the end of its run for various reasons; an attempt that was made, on another but related front, with "Classe di ferro" (which even featured a Jovanotti-soldier in the soundtrack, almost like a poor man's Elvis). These two TV shows, aired in '89-90, were not as valid as Class III C, suffering greatly from the repetitiveness of plots and situations. From that era, I remember with more pleasure the pink mysteries of "Don Tonino," which came fifteen years before "Don Matteo" and had a certain wickedness reminiscent of the bastard children of Dario Argento and the giallo genre of the '70s.
Then almost nothing: the era of "I ragazzi del muretto" and Curzio Cobain arrived, with that aura of suffering and self-harm that today evokes a bittersweet smile. However, the flag of carefree disengagement was not lowered, waving an American banner with "Beverly Hills" and various epigones.