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That day at the Dakota


"I heard the news on the radio. I had come to New York six months before, to try to be a journalist. Without great success, until that day, 8 December 1980. I lived on the West Side, a few subway stops from 72nd street, but light years away from the elegance sophisticated Dakota, the building where John Lennon lived: an old building, the architecture of Manhattan, in Gothic style, vaguely menacing. There lived other VIPs, such as the actress Lauren Bacall, Roman Polanski, but not randomly chose him circled for Rosemary's baby, the film where John Cassavetes plays the devil's decided to put the poor pregnant Mia Farrow. Something of that scary place. Now everyone knew why.

When I arrived, there was the bloodstain on the sidewalk in front of the door, enclosed by yellow police tape. Plainclothes and uniformed police were still gathering evidence. But there was so many other people in front of the Dakota: young and old, hippies and ex-hippie, someone with a guitar, with many radios glued to your ear. They left flowers on the pavement, crying, singing his songs. The vigil went on all night, and the next day, December 9, had become a siege, which overflowed the adjacent lawn of Central Park, thousands and thousands of people, convened by word of mouth or by a simple need to be there, not to wait for an official funeral or sympathy, to show at once, spontaneously, the pain. The


radio stations in New York participated in their own way, constantly transmitting the most popular songs of Lennon, since the Beatles to the most recent, and when the radio hanging from tree branches Central Park sounded notes of Imagine, the song became one of the hymns of pacifism, he seemed to hear a collective sigh rise from the park.

Someone wrote in those days it was as if she were dead, along with John Lennon, age, and it was so, even if we on the lawn in Central Park was well aware there is none: the '70s were over, years of ideologies, rebellions, protests, the attempt to split, and as full of errors to create a better world, and was starting another decade, the '80s, it would be very different, with President Ronald Reagan in Washington , Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in London, the yuppies in the place of the hippies. "
(Henry Franceschini, La Repubblica)

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that extends slightly on the seabed for its houses
shell
that follow along the paths
boundless


for every mother of all sea fish
nursing unnamed
when the day swimming and gets lost between
reflections of humanity uncertain


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Series B Monicelli


Yet, until twenty years ago no one considered him a master.
Mario Monicelli has represented for decades the film series B. Makes even more sense to say now, in a country that forgets easily and is queued to the feelings of the majority of the films that did Monicelli by critics, and intellectuals (especially those on the left) by the authors of the history of cinema, cinema was considered a minor , a little 'stupid, so good for a laugh, but nothing more. The teachers were others. In the 60 and 70 (years in which Monicelli has outdone itself) is called the master Luchino Visconti, Francesco Rosi, Michelangelo Antonioni, Pasolini Pierpoalo.
Certainly, the fact that Monicelli propose the kind of comedy had its weight. The comedy has always been considered a minor genre. Yet nothing like the play in Italy has been able to truly represent the soul, the true essence of a country. As we have tried to downgrade (for example, calling Italian comedy, rather than Italian, wanting to belittle the strength), the comedy in the 60 and 70 was essential to know and understand the Italians, their vices, their pettiness, but their heroism. From Unknown thieves on (by Monicelli, of course) is that of 1958, Italy the art of getting by, the sweet tenderness of her DUMB citizens harassed and exploited, were protagonists of the film mass of those years. At the time these films filled the halls and have contributed significantly to create a social fabric of consciousness is still essential. Monicelli And he was one of the main architects. While intellectuals pontificate on art films, Monicelli worked and had the real Italian to Italy, made them know, love and hate. Only a cynic like him could do that with grace. Luckily, it was always considered an author of series B, otherwise it would have ruined.

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Sergio Segio


From the website of Sergio Segio (www.micciacorta.it "):

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The future? Later. The golden age is over


and between the state, governments, laws, politics and everyday life of citizens There was always a great distance is known. Today
this distance is made more massive by a consideration of character, as it were, symbolic that makes it almost grotesque.
The theme is the future. Political group that is causing the crisis of government was given the name and future freedom. Large areas policies do a great reliance on the descent into the field di Montezemolo, whose foundation is called Futura Italy. In short, the future is the tea that warms the hearts and sharpen their weapons.
But what is the future? Think about it: at this time when the political talk about the future, while being denied the future of this country. The cuts to the school for example. Those who have children know what it means in practice schools have no toilet paper (to say something emblematic), who attended the university knows that the cuts of the budget will make it impossible to research and study. A proposed research: the research is throwing money, a waste, then cut all funding to research institutions (including universities). We deny the money to the cinema and entertainment, is not useless stuff that feeds.
What is the future, then? The future is ignorant young men who will become ignorant of the future is that researchers will be forced to emigrate (as to what is already the case), the future is dependent in all respects from the other countries, those that even in times of crisis have not dreamed of cutting funds for research. The future are the Italian movies that disappear from the screens around the world because it will produce no more and no young person can study the film will have no way of knowing that then make the object of his studies.
I mean, talk about the future and simultaneously kill him. Twenty years from now, thirty years Italy will be worse than now, because who will take care to make it better not have had the tools to grow, advance, create and invent. The future is already past.

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Interview on "Lorna"


Interview on "Lorna"

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E 'was a real pleasure to assist the other night at the concert Ennio Morricone at the Forum of Assago.
Morricone staked an orchestra of more than 100 items: a mighty and powerful sound that mixed the epic of many of his compositions, he delighted the audience. And weighing in
Morricone can not but bring to mind the genius of the Italian cinema of the past, that which would point to the rest of the world cinema, the Italian art of composing melodies.
Morricone has done it. And 'interesting to note, however, that the first director with whom he worked was the maestro Sergio Leone (and the rest made up for him among the most beautiful soundtracks, including the famous The Golden Age). Well, I discovered that Morricone and Leone were classmates at elementary. Perhaps even then if someone did not know you could not achieve any dream job?
Of course today the idea that to be born another Morricone makes you smile. If there were, who would work? Where to find opportunities to get noticed, how could refine the experience to emerge and dominate the world? If there was a new Morricone, a political boss who should refer to be heard, to make a test recording to settle for a director (in turn driven by who knows who).
Italian culture dies because of the talent and opportunities is interposed a funnel ever more closely.
I hope very much that there is a new Morricone around. Me forced her heart to see him squirm in quell'imbuto to damage and then die of suffocation.

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The need to listen to stories


The need to listen to stories is inherent to man. From the cave, the history of man is the desire and the need to listen and discover the lives of others, the emotions of other people, the need to know how it finire.Questo master of the lives of others, the deep desires of others is simply that shape our culture. It is formed and enriched by the stories of people, the novels we read, movies we watch.
There have been stories written and oral histories. There are intellectuals (especially stories written) and ordinary people (users of oral histories. Over the years, television has been 'need for ordinary people to "know how it ends." The golden age of drama, in the 60 and 70 was a way to acculturate the masses but also, more simply, the answer to this need for story.
In the past quarter-century culture has partly broken Berlusconi these needs by creating new ones. It 'exploded in the 80's cravings fun, escape, to withdraw. The television commercial was married in the middle of this new demand (or it has the same clay, no one can say which of the two hypotheses is more sensible). The state television has quickly adapted to this new trend in television and the story has lost enamel and especially space. E 'remained the only fiction that fact over the last decade is the part of television's most successful. The rest is pure disengagement, syncopated rhythms, pills show, sketch quick. And so the TV has ceased to think. But that desire
primordial tale remained. We all want to know "how it will end," and we are beginning to understand that just want to take away this desire. The most sensitive part of the television has received, perhaps, these nebulae cravings in the air and ran for cover. In recent months, we see small signs of change in the trend: the desire of stories, the need to tell you once again. Here is a small list of signs by which this occurs return to the desire of storytelling: The monologues of Saviano, what else are they but stories with a beginning and a middle in the end we want to know? Big brother (one of the few "old" programs to resist) is more alive than ever as he recounts stories of emotions, most complex characters (the nomadic life troubled by Ferdinand, who won the last edition, for example). The account of policy making in his Mentana tg else is if you do not want to understand how it ends? It tells the parable of the politician Berlusconi who, as a story of a man, a real interest in the country. And then the great fiction, when they tell stories that speak of lives of men, have always notable successes. And the case Scazzi? Aside from the macabre to the true story, is it not the desire to know and understand what happens in families, even in those strange families in the fund could also be ours? And the perennial success of those who saw it, I think it's only interest in the story of real life stories. Other examples could be done.
I do not know if the age of the pupae and nerds, sketch of hit and run, speed mistaken for rhythm, inculturation, is actually falling. But I do know that the desire to listen, watch, read and understand the emotions of the human race is not dead, far from it: in this period a revival. E ' culture that does not want to die in this country has felt threatened and is raising its head.

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consider the article by Curzio Maltese (below) a sensible and logical continuation of my previous post. And I confirmed that indeed something new is happening ...

Away from theater to television
Curzio Maltese

"Come away with me" was the most beautiful Italian songs and is now the title of a program full of defects, as noted by the critical degree. But who cares. It is a historic event, it signals the death of Berlusconi television.
The prodrome, the archetype, ideology, the foundation the last two decades in politics. A program that beats the Big Brother not only with a resounding Benigni, that would be understandable, but with Don Gallo and stories of the Roma or 'Ndrangheta Milan hinterland, not a cultural phenomenon, but the indicator of a change of Italian society.

The theater of television is the background for the theater of politics, a favorite target of Berlusconi. For better or for worse, in the political theater of the important things are happening and new, as the final crisis of Berlusconi. In the theater, but television is completely immobile for twenty years, at least in appearance. The Berlusconi-rule, since the quiz Tg1, the last program for home in the morning or afternoon. All the talk shows, even the alternative and "against", are monopolized by a company formed around a maximum of twenty people who camp in the joint studies Rai-Mediaset and transmigrate from one channel to another, from a Vespa Santoro Ballarò forming a single jam. From the point of view of style, not content to charity, this just makes Annozero bolsa Porta a Porta. The worker on strike in a national uprising, the unemployed are only the scenery outside Naples, the extras boundary interminable, incomprehensible and ultimately useless chicken coop studio.

The first merit of "Come away with me" is to break this representation. There is no theater. You can see and really listen to the characters and themes expelled from television for years. Ligabue and Roma, Benigni and the secular state, Don Gallo and street prostitution, Paolo Rossi and immigration. Not surprisingly, the less effective the other night was the dreaded Fini and Bersani. The usual war time censorship of Berlusconi is particularly grotesque and ineffective because it is clear to everyone, including the center-right voters who "Come away with me," unlike other programs "prohibited" does not lead to political battles, but social. And it is another reason why an oasis from political theater and television.

I could not even say if television is new or very old, maybe pre or post Berlusconi Berlusconi, with flavors of Rai once, Barbato and Biagi, TvSette and "It's never too late." It is flawed, they said. Slow, at times pedantic, obsessed by lists, too politically correct. Roberto Saviano said the 'Ndrangheta in Lombardy as the teacher explained the grammar Manzi, in an almost naive, that may amuse the journalists covering these issues for decades. But as Saviano brings this knowledge from specialists to nine million Italians, as Gomorrah with tens of millions of readers, make us laugh. The only thing you can do with Saviano is to thank him, love him and protect him from the ferocity with the popularity of his enemies. Those with the Kalashnikov and the other in double-breasted.

Roberto Maroni is a good minister of the interior, heavily involved in the fight against the mafia. But when love for the flag denies the historical fact of the development of the 'Ndrangheta also in Lombardy and Northern League just refuses even to discuss, do not say investigate, acts as a two-bit politician.
The success of "Come away with me" is still beyond these controversies and attempts at censorship. It is the epiphany of a change in mood of the country. With a TV public service from the seventies, the various arts program of Fazio and Saviano has intercepted a paradoxical need for new codes and languages, and has brought back to the audience Rai a young and educated who had long since abandoned in disgust public networks to escape anywhere from Mentone to Sky. It was a small, unpredictable television revolution. After so many years, of course. But it's never too late.

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Chicco, come with me and Mike Raymond



Two recent television phenomena are of some quick thinking.
The phenomena are: the TG of Mentone and the program come away with me. On this program you could say many things (freedom of the press, civic engagement, the opposition etc.). But they are things that already focuses much of the press and critics.
One thing I would say instead that unites the two programs. Both the TG of Mentana Come away with me that are there to remove a commonplace that in recent years has become a gospel on television today is the speed (also exchanged with the rhythm).
fact there is no program (from the news variety) that has this logic, this dogmatic belief that everything DVE be rapid, should last a few seconds, a maximum of one minute and then you have to move on. Whether it be a service on the day politics, is a song (a song cut through the X factor to make them last a minute or so), it is a ballet, it is an interview (with very few exceptions). The dogma is the result of the belief that everything that will last a little more dangerous because it is the public soon tires and change the channel.
Well, the two phenomena I was talking about are there to disprove this thesis. The problem is not trying to do things not to bore short, the problem has come up with something good. Point. If there is something worth following for more minutes, you can be sure that the public will follow. Services in the tg Mentana not last twenty seconds and in other news. The services of the TG of the 7 last one, even two minutes because they have the ambition (what a revolutionary tg!) To explain what happened, why it happened and what comments there are to do. In the same way in the program of Fazio and Saviano, the moments will last a lot: a monologue by Saviano takes twenty minutes, the intervention of Benigni lasted half an hour to Abbado idem. This tv (beyond the controversy over I like / I do not like) shows that we can take care of something if that something is well represented. We are not balls, if something interests us and we look at the brain works for more than twenty seconds. Whether it's a new line? Hopefully.

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A train. An airport (Charleroi). A station (Brussels). A woman (in Barcelona). A man (Bologna, but also in Seville, Sarajevo). Words. Attention. Silence.

The train stops at the Gare du midi. There are many things to say. Not fit into the mouth of Alberto. Not fit. Silence. Silence. The January 8. Where? In Barcelona. Ya. In Barcelona. Near the Cathedral. Ya. But now the silence. The silence of the eye.

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are all sitting on the bench marble atrium of the station Z. A woman with a veil, a floral pattern around the head. A middle-aged man in a suit and tie. A girl with a yellow backpack. They are all sitting on the bench marble atrium of the station Z. You do not know. Perhaps they never will. To remain silent gasp oxygen in swallowing pills blue. The man sitting between two women loosen the noose around his neck. A drop of sweat on the collar crashes crumbling between the fingers. Nervous puffs. You a locomotive. He glanced toward the front wall. There are seven twenty-three. It will be the right time? And who knows? The woman plays knotted fingers, as if expecting a reward for their skill, as if imagined audience, and blurry, she strips on stage of blackened wood, the applause in the hall, the lights. The girl, however, opened the diary and reads the thoughts of a few days before, but do not recognize. Maybe she did not write them, maybe they are placed there as does the pollen in the spring, carried by the inertia of life. Maybe. And who knows?

's been three hours and twenty minutes. Nobody has turned up on site it occupied. No one uttered a word. Only the hands of time have experienced the change. In the distance the clatter of the rails, the pounding of metal discs that produce avant-garde music. A far cry, move like the belly of the hungry, as the breasts of olive trees. They are all sitting on the bench marble atrium of the station Z. And it's a beautiful station. Marble. Or maybe not. It all depends on the confidence that feeds on those who tell the story. He was of marble? And who knows?

A door opens into the station Z. Coming out (or out-comes? O-enter inside?) A lady from the turquoise apron. His face blank, her eyes following straight lines such as rails, without depth of mud, with no scent of lilies, not thrills. The man turns to his left and sees it coming. Proceeds without hesitation. Accompany a cart full of rags and trash. The girl seems to be more distracted, but perhaps now it is only pretending to read the diary. His attention was thrown away like a car on fire. The fingers of the lady now panting chase, and already formed a thin layer of sweat on his back as lovers. Only the lady from the turquoise apron seems unmoved. Continues up to overcome our three friends on the bench. It is time for only a fraction of a second. Even at that time betrays a grimace or a grin. Continues. With the same pace ever. Continues. Up to rest the hand on the door opposite where you entered. Lower your hand. The door creaks. She disappears.

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pilots

P helots cuttlefish

If art is a weapon loaded with future expansion
dream then a silent revolt

in which each seeks to my chest
the mirror and its temple pilots

we
pilots sepia
bent on wind

write on the seas with fire
throw the scepter and throne


without tears of blood painted on the face of marble
melodies or machine gun

only
the great silence of the thunder that rolls

---

Pilots sepia

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the sepia empty

Vacuum

affect her day on the veins of the woods chasing

snow on the chimney smoking

she listens to the leaves nomads roam the hills

you do not know the caravans of wolf that hides in the silence of vespers

and your adult body that saw the birth

bear children now looks the woman with tired eyes and count the decades

of life that we share

but as a pain to make you an infinite amount of time peers

she recorded the journey on a river of ice

chasing the trail of memory and steps

you shall observe the path of fire reflected in water

and quit to follow her like a bonfire now extinct in the vacuum

--------

Vacuum

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shipwreck

shipwreck


dark eyes like diamonds

reflections of items in this dark

eyes just as children

lying in the street to dry

and you know that they are able to illuminate the sun

and you will see them hold between the eyebrows a sea

dear eyes like dreams

provided by chance and to return

eyes as sweet deserts

yet to be written on the tracks of ink

and you know that they are able to illuminate the sun

and you will see them retain between brows a sea

eyes vast as worlds

visions of a future to imagine

swollen eyes as the land

passions locked away in trunks drag

deep eyes like oceans

to quench travelers eyes as fragile as millenary

leaves

inexperienced young dancers to accompany

--------

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Santa Barbara continues to amaze the musical research and the courageous search for texts that bring together committed and deep unease in political, cultural, existential, better integrated into the music seen as redemption and atonement.

The result is a collection of atmospheres severe, sometimes minimal, others deliberately quarrelsome and hysterical. Like any research itself always excessive and extravagant, you may at times to escalate in severity and weight of the vocabulary that could weigh down the music in certain parts that could launch its own beyond the barriers of fear and paranoia, as well as the intent seems Pieralberto author Valli. Very nice

Shipwreck, for it was highly mixed with poetic simplicity. Slightly more complicated than man's dream for the ambitious nature of the text. The rhythm section could be further enhanced by more effective sampling, which probably will be made during registration. But overall, you know, there's nothing under the sun. Or we should say nothing better in the dark night?

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Mike and Raymond have gone a few months apart. Both loved, admired and so lamented by millions of people. Yet
that different characters!
The difference between Mike and Raymond has emerged clearly in the reactions to their death. Reactions appear to be similar (sorry, compliance etc). but totally different.
Mike has been awarded a huge respect for her figure. Because the character (especially his death) has been perceived primarily as a character to be respected, a man who has personally contributed to the history of television in years in which the development of television has meant development of the whole country. Mike has won these gals socio-historical, especially in years when his quiz accounted for Italy national unity, growth, the economic boom. That 's what made him a character. The simplicity of its modest man she married perfectly with his role as creator of the unconscious Italian spirit medium. The famous article by Umberto Eco did the rest, in the sense that it has since been formalized its historical role that this has totally exceeded its capacity, its conscience, its programs, its successes. The state funeral, after all, was precisely the meaning they wanted to pay tribute to Mike a tribute to the man who represented something, the witness of time, to someone who has done little in his history of something. A tribute to "head" and then, dictated by the reasoning, awareness of what he represented.

For Raymond was all completely different.
Raymond was first and foremost an artist. An actor, one who has always amused the audience. People who have seen him on TV for so many years have always felt like a showman, as a character who had the power to make them laugh and have fun. There was to him the recognition of this role purely artistic. Since the TV into the homes of all, over the years, Raymond has become one of the family, like his uncle witty like invite you to dinner because bickering between courses in that funny way with his wife. That is, while Mike has developed a recognition "head", with Raymond there was a recognition "of the heart." This is why the death of Raymond has raised more excitement more affective.
Two different relations with the public, then. Two different characters. But two deaths, however symbolic have certified that their TV is no more, is hopelessly over.

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The indomitable


Vallanzasca Renato has since yesterday outside of a residence, that is released from prison in the morning, goes to work in a company that manufactures backpacks and in the evening at 20 back in jail. Vallanzasca has obtained the permit after many years of waiting and, say his lawyers, is pleased to have started a new life.
I confess that I did a little 'sad to see him in a television service enter the shed where he works and see him at work. For him it is certainly a step forward (if nothing else, his life changes a little prisoner '), others doth the usual litany that now is a man recovered in civil society and so on. What is certain is that for many
Renato Vallanzasca was not just a thug and common criminal (which certainly is what it came out better), but also u mythical character in its own way, an example of perpetual rebellion and nonconformity that has crossed without major changes the last thirty years. Vallanzasca fact he never resigned himself to prison life, has always struggled to be nothing, to do more, to live as a protagonist (albeit negative) of his life. Once many years ago, he was able to escape through a porthole of a ship that took him from Genoa Asinara. He went to grade and spent a summer holiday in Italy as police throughout the cercava.Un 'last time he did fall in love (he was a seducer, you know) thanks to his lawyer and his help was able to escape from prison Nuoro.
short, Renato Vallanzasca was always a character counter, strong personality, a ready to revolt against the status quo, so a fair that has always been ready to pay his "freedom." It is no accident that even a ska band takes its name from him (the Vallanzaska).
E 'for this that his "approval" of model prisoner in a work permit is little sadness. Romantically I can not see well integrated. I'd imagine it always unbowed, ready to fight, ready to rebel. But who knows, maybe this new peace is for him a form of rebellion against this state of unrest that has brought nothing but trouble (and 40 years in prison). Or is it just another clever move and soon we will know that Vallanzasca also managed to escape from his sad backpacks. would be a nice coup de theater.

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Symbols


Symbols are important. Through symbols (be they photographs, films, written pages) generations understand the ages and healthy to judge the historical periods, people, the facts. Just think of the famous photo of the student in front of the Chinese tank in Beijing. This search for symbols that could stir the conscience, to appear suddenly lighting up a dark corner always thought this was flung open the collective consciousness we might wish Pier Pasolini Polo in his famous article entitled The process, wrote for the Corriere della evening more than 35 years ago. Here is a brief excerpt:

Now: unworthiness, contempt for the public, handling public money, wheeling and dealing with the oil companies, with industry, with bankers, complicity with the Mafia, high treason in favor of a foreign nation, collaboration with the CIA, illegal use by bodies such as the SID, responsibility in the massacre in Milan, Brescia and Bologna (at least as culpable failure to punish the perpetrators), destruction of landscape and urban planning in Italy, responsible for the degradation of Italian anthropological (responsabilità. this, compounded by his total unconsciousness), liability of the state, as they say, fearful of schools, hospitals and any public work primary responsibility of abandonment "savage" campaign, responsibility for the blast "wild" of mass culture and mass media, responsibility for criminal stupidity of television, responsibility decay of the Church, and finally, in addition to everything else, maybe even Bourbon distribution of public office to flatterers. [...]
or Fanfani Andreotti's image, or to Gava Restivo, handcuffed in the police, both metaphorical image. Their trial is a metaphor. In order to make my speech as well as sublime comic (like every monologue!), And above all very didactically clearer.
What would be revealed to the consciousness of Italian citizens in that process (as well as means, to the merits of the offenses set forth above according to an ethical if not legal terms)? It would
revealed something essential to Italian citizens for their existence, that is this: the powerful Democrats who have governed in the last ten years have not understood that it was historically exhausted the form of power that they had slavishly served in the past two decades (also drawing from all the possible profits) and that the new form of power he did not know more (and do not know) what to do with them.

Article prophetic at the time. In fact the process was really there to Andreotti (here's prophecy), although it has turned into a kind of absolution (in fact, have taken the requirements, but that's another story). What matters is, however, that with Andreotti trial has hailed the first republic. So strongly that image evocative really did understand the Italians the end of an era, was a symbolic image as Pasolini wished.
Unfortunately, the new era, those who succeeded the so-called First Republic, was no better. Indeed, in some ways is worse. But if you wanted to search for images of the symbol for the contemporary time, you should think about something that happened yesterday. And it is a fact that, for the simple reason that it had never happened before, it could become really a symbol of a new phase. Senator Di Girolamo yesterday morning was a senator of the Republic and last night a prisoner. It 's a really sena done before. Think of the parable of this man leaving the Senate, yesterday, had in mind only the bag to be prepared to bring cell. No one defended it, no one has done rallying around him as it almost always happens. So the path has become straightforward: the power to jail. What is the beginning of a new era?