When Osvaldo Cavandoli proposed "La Linea" to "Carosello" in 1969, he certainly could not have imagined the international success his creation would achieve in the following years. "Translated" (in quotes because, as we will see, the only translation this cartoon needs is that of the title) into about fifteen languages, it is still famous in many countries (France, Germany, and Northern Europe above all) and is one of the most important examples of the ability to synthesize applied not only in cartoons but also in figurative art as well as narrative art. It was the famous pressure cooker manufacturer "Lagostina" that believed from the outset in the potential of the series and, at least in the logo, was linked to it for almost 40 years, although already in the early '70s Cavandoli gave the character a sort of life of its own, drawing it both in comics and in animation in episodes independent of the advertising series.

The basic idea was as simple as it was revolutionary: a little man walking along a line, with no apparent end, encountering various objects, events, and situations that each time initiated borderline paradoxical scenarios, continuously interacting with his own creator, represented by a hand with a pencil (here a small documentary on the genesis of the series). The humorous strength of the whole was enhanced by the forward-thinking voice acting by Carlo Bonomi, who gave "La Linea" a language incomprehensible in lexicon (mixing a series of Milanese dialect exclamations with purely onomatopoeic expressions) yet very clear in expressing the states of mind: a fundamental factor in capturing the imagination of millions of people not united by the same language. The whole was completed by a jazz-flavored soundtrack curated by Franco Godi, a musician already famous for his collaborations with Bruno Bozzetto.

The thing that still strikes about Cavandoli's creation, 40 years later, is the extreme synthetic capacity to combine in just two elements (the black, or blue, screen and a white line) an infinite series of references (even bordering on much more cultured, or considered, more or less wrongly, such) both humorous and topical that still manage to entertain without resorting to vulgarity or trite clichés. One need only think of the (almost) "divine" interventions represented by the hand of the draftsman or the comical cries for help, sometimes on the verge of the grotesque, of poor Mr. Linea: often out of place and mocking the former and suspended between supplication and repressed anger the latter (a metaphor for the modern man?).

An expressive power assembled with so few tools at one's disposal that it still shakes and it is a pity that the association with the advertised product has, in a sense, damaged the series here in Italy, which abroad has instead quickly become a cult (of the series "no one is a prophet in their own country") through comic book publications (here the series is still published in Northern Europe), citations in music videos (for example here and here) and popular graffiti (those who go around the German subways will know what I am talking about).

This little consideration at home has caused quite a bit of sorrow for its creator, who continued to wonder about the reason for this dichotomy between international success and this sort of indifference from his fellow countrymen (at least those responsible for the media since no one at the popular level ever forgot it) until the day of his passing a couple of years ago.

This is to remember him.

Mo.

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