Click here to view the embedded video.

I attended the film uptown opening, at The Film Society of Lincoln Center’s new state-of-the-art Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center in New York where the screening also followed a Q&A with actor and director John Turturro (see video clip below). Indeed, a very sleek space that truly deserves its consistent appeal as the “mecca” for cinefiles.

The film opens with a personal introduction by Turturro among other comments peppered throughout the film. Turturro later revealed his narration was an advice he received from Francesco Rosi who also had directed him as Primo Levi in 1997 La Tregua – The Truce. I can’t argue with Maestro Rosi, but personally, I would have preferred to leave this English narration out, as it takes away from the pure authenticity of the spoken Napolitan dialect and music. In those instances, I felt the film unjustly turns into a Travel Channel segment.

Turturro follows a tried-and-true template that was formerly christened by Wim Wenders’s 1999 Buena Vista Social Club with similar ingredients: authentic location, archival footage, and phenomenal homegrown music performed by unknown yet gifted musicians that tell their rough life stories between songs. Someone in the audience later labeled this film as “music neorealism” which I found interesting.

Reggae-styled Nun te scurda’ performed by Almamegretta, Raiz,
Pietra Montecorvino & M’Barka Ben Taleb

You will find here some of the classic Neapolitan masterpieces such as Maruzzella by Renato Carosone with a striking performance on Napoli’s beach of all places by Gennaro Cosmo Parlato; O Sole Mio featuring legendary opera singer Enrico Caruso among less known but emotionally charged songs like Passione performed by James Senese. You can totally believe Senese’s bluesy delivery especially when he earlier recounts his challenging childhood in Napoli as a son of a black American solider whom he never met and a local girl.

An interesting anecdote, during my recent vacation to Napa Valley, I made the day for a friendly Napolitan bar tender in a wine tasting room after showing him the song list. So I guess these songs are considered gold standard even by the natives.

The film also includes archival footage from Istituto Luce, showcasing post-World War II Napoli: the people, their hardships, the American liberation and most of all the music as a powerful thread to the present that keep Napolitans alive. From this perspective the songs represent Napoli’s history of being conquered so many times, resulting in an eclectic ethnic collage.

Turturro’s as an Italian-American (half Sicilian half Pugliese) consciously decided not to show the pretty touristic image of Napoli and instead focused more on the evocative Napolitan reality as evidenced by singers and locals. In this sense, the film represents his personal journey into Napoli’s rich musical culture anchored around the past with WWII American liberation and its impact on locals and the present with its eclectic music scene. As such, the film nicely closes an identity loop with a global truth: know where you came from.

The big message the film eloquently delivers is simple. Music unlike any art form is about that special and direct dialog it has with the audience that goes beyond language, manipulative plots, director intent, history or any other external layers. At the end of the day, it’s all about this precious interplay between the audience personal experiences and the music. I found the music fairly contagious, so be ware.

I leave you with the post-screening discussion between Actor and director John Turturro and Italian journalist Andrea Visconti at Lincoln Center:

Click here to view the embedded video.

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It’s not a coincidence the word swings between two opposing associations: on the positive end, it offers exotic escape, away from it all repose, while on the negative – a sense of forced seclusion, and disconnectedness from rest of the world.

The same duality we find in Giovanna Taviani’s latest and charming documentary I had the opportunity to catch last week at Open Roads: New Italian Cinema, a festival hosted by Lincoln Film Society in New York. In fact, the film’s original title explicitly expresses this duality: Fughe e approdi (Escapes and Shores).

But first, a bit of context: in order to fully appreciate this film, you need to know that the lead role in this film is marvelously played by the Aeolian islands (volcanic archipelago in the Tyrrhenian Sea north of Sicily). The islands serve the settings for both the personal story of the director, growing up in the island of Salina, and for myriad stories told by the islanders that hosted some of the most prominent cinematic gems shot there from early 40’s until the present. From this perspective, the film is truly an ode for the Aeolian islands and their remarkable cultural and political history.

Second, Giovanna Taviani, is the daughter of Vittorio Taviani of the famed Brothers Taviani and was featured as little girl in their masterpiece Kaos (Paolo and Vittorio Taviani -1984). So growing up in the island of Salina, being the daughter of, and participating in this iconic film – provide effective themes to weave the story of the Aeolian islands from a very personal perspective of a director that attempts, and in my opinion, succeeds in finding her own cinematic voice despite her privileged background.

And that’s tough.

Original boat and fisherman from Brothers Taviani’s 1984 Kaos
as a narrative bridge between space and time

Taviani demonstrates a skillful storytelling strategy by using several personal anchors such as personally narrating the film (almost as vocal diary), and the use of the original boat and fisherman Franco Figlio d’oro from Kaos. I especially liked the way Taviani is in fact taking the audience on a majestic voyage both in space: having the red sailed boat as scene connector, hopping from island to island – and time: the occasionally humorous interviews with the islanders and archive footage to bring historical and cinematic events to life.

Beyond the personal aspects, the film provides a highly educational review of some of the most important historical events associated with the islands such as the confinement and escape of anti-fascists Carlo Rosselli and Emilio Lussu from the island of Lipari and slew of cinematic masterpieces shot on the islands. From mid- 40’s, the pioneering work of Alliata, Maraini and Moncada who founded Panaria Film, historical production company that produced Italy’s first submarine documentaries, 1954’s Isole di fuoco (islands of Fire) by Vittorio De Seta – to more renowned films by Antonioni with “L’avventura”, Rossellini with 1950’s “Stromboli” featuring Ingrid Bergman on the island of Stromboli and the ensuing volcanic scandal of Anna Magnani, offended by Rossellini’s breaking up with her for Bergman, and as result shooting “Vulcano” on a nearby island; 1993’s Dear Diary (Caro diario) by Nanni Moretti and Massimo Troisi in 1993’s Il Postino – to name a few.

Click here to view the embedded video.

As I watched the film, I experienced this unique blend of the wildness of the islands with their volcanic eruptions and historic rough times they inflicted on islanders, but at the same time – the islands’ sheer and intoxicating beauty as magnet for the greatest Italian cinema directors. I guess, I am a little biased since I visited the Aeolian Islands exactly a year ago and the place is indeed beautifully inspiring: the conquer and perseverance of the human spirit over the forces of nature.

Taviani represents a new generation of documentarists that is not only charting her own path but also paving the road for other directors to follow and get exposure. As such Taviani ideated and is the artistic director of SalinaDocFest – an international documentary festival, that after reading the above – you can easily appreciate why it takes place on the island of Salina. I’d love to go back and attend the festival this coming September. We’ll see. But for now, I leave you with a wonderful interview i-Italy.org has recently conducted with Giovanna Taviani.

And as always, don’t take my word for it make it your own experience.

This is an intense shot on reality. When we say the eloquence of silence. He makes the silence speak. Slowly, sweetly, deeply. Black and white, and we are already into a poem. Every single shot is a portrait of truth. It’s amazing the power of these images. We don’t need to speak to be understood if who is watching us can read a little deeper. Sorrentino can really drill through the soul of his characters.

A strong message towards the truth. A kind of, just be yourself. But also a message of being close to others, because anything in life is related to others. The match, with your companions, and the team work. And no matter who they are, young, old, father, friends, they are your team players. You have to trust all of them.

Very interesting the choice of a rugby match, an unusual sport in Italy, that gives the sense of team, of fighting together, where the compact strength of the group is very important.

A masculine message if you want, a message for men. However with no macho input at all. Instead an invitation maybe to reconsider the natural meaning of being a man, from the basic.

The location. A field in the suburbs of a big town. Where we think a strong message of hope is even more needed. And where the ground for simple values could be uncertain as well as more natural at the same time.

The characters. A simple working class family, very sweet and very true. There is this strong tight shred that links the whole thing. The grandma, the father, the mother, the son. What a cute picture. The family, an important value to support and to pursue for mutual benefits of all its components. Family as the first strong starting point for building a good sense of trust towards yourself, the others and the future. It’s a lovely movie, intense and rich. And artistically wonderful.

Buona visione.

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Rare, because the film was made six years after Pasolini’s death and so his memory is still fresh in the accounts of the people interviewed, which helps paint a much richer picture about the man, his background, personality, perspectives and the mystery behind his death.

The film showcases interviews with dignitaries such as Italy’s important poet Alberto Moravia that helps us place Pasolini’s in history. Moravia underscores his significance by talking about most poets before Pasolini came from the right and focused on aggrandizing Italy’s rich history. Pasolini was the first poet with left views that lamented the decline of Italian society, especially in the early 60’s where mass consumerism like television, he believed, contaminated the basic virtues of the simple people and their genuine cultures. That’s why Pasolini beyond being openly gay (a scandalous affair in those days), was attracted to the proletarians in the underworld of the Roman borgate. In this sense, Moravia believes Pasolini’s death was simply an accident that derives from his penchant for violent relationships as depicted in his two novels Ragazzi di vita (Boys of Life) and Una vita violenta (A Violent Life).

The film also brings actress Laura Betti (appeared in several of Pasolini’s films) that fought hard with the Italian justice system to find out what exactly happened that night. Her account suggests a reality that perceived Pasolini – because of his radical views and sexual preference – as a public threat and often times used him as scapegoat. He was brought to trial 33 times, yet acquitted every single time.

I especially liked the interview with renowned film director Bernardo Bertolucci that goes back to the early days of their friendship. Pasolini invited Betolucci to be his assistant in his first film Accatone, which tells the hardships of Pasolini’s friends – the boys from the Roman slums, but using his signature heroic ambiance. The way Betolucci tells it both he and Pasolini never had any cinematic experience, so every scene was practically an historic invention in the making. Betolucci poignantly concludes that Pasolini’s murder was probably some kind of crucifixion against a genius, caught in a wrong period. The film aptly ends with the heroic crucifixion scene in Pasolini’s The Gospel According To St. Matthew (1964).

Pasolini was murdered in 1975 by Giuseppe Pelosi, a 17-year-old hustler, which initially confessed for committing the crime. Yet, in 2005 he retracted his confession claiming that he was under threats to his family by three strangers with southern Italian accents who had committed the murder. The investigation was reopened, but then closed alleging the new elements as still insufficient.

And in Pasolini’s words:

“The mark which has dominated all my work is this longing for life, this sense of exclusion, which doesn’t lessen but augments this love of life.” (Interview in documentary, late 1960s)

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