Giuseppe Tornatore
Baarìa

Baarìa: from the strict Sicilian "Gates of the wind"

...i carritteri ogni tantu lassaunu i loru bisogni e i muscuni ciabbulaunu supra...

In Baarìa, one runs, amid the dust of roads not yet paved, kissed by the wind that arises from its name and sweeps away time as it channels violently along the main course up to the church. On the sides of the streets, there are people. Laundresses, wet nurses, merchants, mothers, children, farmers. The elderly play cards, and when they want cigarettes, they bother you as you play with spinning tops. You must run to the tobacconist and return with unfiltered cigarettes before the saliva resting on the ground dries. And they cost 20 lire.

...veni l'autunnu, scura cchiù prestu, l'albiri peddunu i fogghi, e accumincia 'a scola, da' mari già si sentunu i riuturi...

In Baarìa, one runs to school, where every morning, you must learn by heart and sing with vigor the song about the Duce. Woe to those who don't follow the chorus: you risk a scathing reprimand and the humiliating punishment behind the blackboard. At school, the canteen is only for poor children, at the discretion of the teacher. There are fascists. Everywhere. At the cinema, in the shops, patrolling the streets. You can't speak ill of them or hint that you are mocking them with pork sausage. Prison awaits in such cases. Then you run to the station to bid farewell to the young men called up for the war, and those who don't want to go to the front prefer to cripple themselves with a hammer blow to the foot.

...man manu ca passunu i jonna sta frevi mi trasi 'nda ll'ossa ccu tuttu ca fora c'è a guerra mi sentu stranizza d'amuri ... l'amuri...

War arrives in Baarìa, and everyone runs to the basements to escape the bombings. One hides like mice. With rosaries, hysteria, uncontrollable cries, hooks of hope, and stories to ease the heavy atmosphere, they tremble at the passage of planes. No need to worry. They only bomb Palermo. Then fascism collapses, and people join the Communist Party hoping for better times. The communists manage to win the elections, but the mafia doesn't like it. In Baarìa, there is also the mafia in the form of landowners. Sometimes the miracle of brotherhood happens when someone buys 200 mourning buttons and "marches" along the main course to mourn the peasants killed at Portella della Ginestra.

...e quannu t'ancontru 'nda strata mi veni 'na scossa 'ndo cori ccu tuttu ca fora si mori na mori stranizza d'amuri ... l'amuri...

In Baarìa, one also runs to the church because Renato, the painter, must beautify the dome by drawing on the best faces of the town. That painter will become a Guttuso. Then there are Peppino and Mannina. Protagonists of the shortest "fuitina" in history. He will become a member of the Gramsci section of the Party, and she will learn to sew. He will seek to distribute the confiscated lands with agrarian reform to peasants and laborers, challenging the mafiosi and hoping not to end up like Placido Rizzotto or Accursio Miraglia. She will lose a baby but, thanks to God, will have more and will drink the still warm blood of the bull just slaughtered not to fear pregnancy. He will go to the Soviet Union, borrowing a coat to face the cold. Upon return, he will be disappointed because Russia is not as it was described. And the father on his deathbed dreams of seeing him as a deputy of the PCI because he believes politics is beautiful. She will push forward the household and raise their children, amid hardship, sacrifices, satisfaction, and fears. With the help of mother, of course. And a bit of fright.

...'n cielu fochi di culuri, 'n terra aria bruciata, e tutti appressu o santu 'nda vanedda, Sicilia bedda mia Sicilia bedda...

In Baarìa, there's the madman who sells in dollars and then adjusts in lire with ballpoint pens. There is a mysterious woman who very much resembles mother. The cinema comes to shoot a film with Alberto Sordi and directed by Alberto Lattuada. There's ’O Sciancato with his fruit trees and unexploded mines in the ground. Miniskirts arrive four fingers above the knee and the years of lead silently. And one always runs. Today Bagheria is ugly. On the sides of the road, there are parked cars, and one no longer runs due to heavy traffic similar to that of metropolises. So there's a desire to go back, hoping to run again. In Bagheria, an earring lost a long time ago is found, and in Baarìa, the fly that made the spinning top light as the wind is still alive. The miracle of life. The miracle of Baarìa.

P.S.: The interludes come from the lyrics of "Stranizza d'amuri" and "Veni l'autunnu", both by Franco Battiato. With deference.