Articles by: Inga Pierson

Undercutting the laudatory tenor of the many introductions made on his behalf, the director of “The Conformist”, “Last Tango in Paris”, and “The Dreamers”, addressed an audience of journalists and young filmmakers at the Italian Cultural Institute Monday playfully, “probably I make films because they are less boring than my real life”.  Quickly turning more serious however, he reflected that he has always remained faithful to an inner vision. 

The subject at hand, the retrospective of his oeuvre - Bernardo Bertolucci - which opened Wednesday at The Museum of Modern Art in New York, celebrates nearly 40 years of filmmaking.  Across 4 continents - from China, India and Africa to the cosmopolitan cities of Paris and Rome - Bertolucci has revolutionized cinema several times over.  The retrospective features 20 films in newly remastered prints and includes some rarely seen gems: Bertolucci's first film, “The Grim Reaper” (1962) - a thriller set in Rome-, the U.S. premier of his 3-part documentary series, “Oil” (1967), and the original 5 hour director’s cut of “1900”.

For Bertolucci, who came of age in the era of free love, sexual experimentation, and social revolution, the experience of creating, of building and sculpting characters, is distinctly sensual.  In his work, the human body is the canvas on which history unfolds and human psychology releases its breathless beauty and harrowing fragility.  His interiors are sparsely decorated and the landscapes are empty – the human presence, however lost and small, looms disproportionately. 

Somewhere between fantasy, dream, and mystic rapture, Bertolucci sees filmmaking as a kind of ecstatic experience.  Responding to questions Monday evening, he defined his opus as “one long, continuous film”, a procession of images externalized and governed by poetic inspiration.  He affirmed that, although he writes and re-writes his screenplays, he never looks at them once he begins filming.  A neorealist tradition, perhaps, but Bertolucci’s films are far from documentary in spirit.  They inhabit an alternate realm which, however coterminous with reality, is rather the inexpressible world of mortal confusion - or with Shakespeare, "the stuff dreams are made of". 

Likewise the relationship with his actors is an intimate one: quite unabashedly, he declared that he “falls in love with the actors”.  Indeed, the love triangle Bertolucci, Brando, and Maria Schneider in “Last Tango in Paris” is famously one of the most arresting and decadent dysfunctional  relationships in the history of art.  Dismissing the fictional concept of character, Bertolucci explained that he needs the interaction with the human person, he needs “a face in front of [his] camera” and that he uses the camera to delve into the mystery of that person, “to uncover the secrets of their being”.  At times the director’s intensity and extraordinary talent for inspiring complicity, have proven to be dangerous and even ruinous.  Both Brando and Maria Schneider were said to have felt violated by “Last Tango in Paris” and Brando refused to speak to Bertolucci for nearly 15 years. 

In a list of incredible talent that includes Jean-Louis Trintignant, Massimo Girotti, Dominque Sanda, Gérard Dépardieu, Robert De Niro, Donald Sutherland, Jill Clayburgh, Debra Winger, John Malkovich, Alida Valle, Anouk Aimée, Peter O’Toole, and Jeremy Irons, Brando stands out as a “sacred monster”, and the director was clearly as marked by the experience of “Last Tango” as his actors.  He cites the film’s aftermath as one of the two great artistic crises of his career.  (The other being the controversy over the length of his virtuoso epic, “1900”.)

As rare as the retrospective itself may be, it is even more exceptional to have the artist on hand to discuss his work.  And though a veteran of the industry, Bertolucci seems to have lost none of the wonder and excitement of a young director.  Far from disdaining television and new media, he extolled the virtues of Mad Men, comparing it to the 19th century novel - a “Dickens for the 21st Century” - and he confessed to being utterly vulnerable to its charms.  He sees digital technology as the “digital chance” - the democratization of filmmaking - and he observed that television and cinema seem to be exchanging their essential functions and properties. 

Even in English Bertolucci is uncommonly articulate.  He arrived almost punctually – especially impressive in the world of Italian celebrity.  He spoke candidly and sincerely but also very clearly and eloquently – demonstrating the passion and feeling of an artist as well as the keen insight of a practiced master of his craft.  He seemed happy to talk with journalists, colleagues (cinematographer Vittorio Storaro made an appearance), and students alike.  And even after hours of interviews he graciously entertained our request for a digital “autograph”, allowing us to stage the esclusive photo above. 

Best of all? We may see more of Bertolucci's cinema in the near future.  The director revealed, with some excitement, that there is a new project in development. 

Organized by Cinecittà Luce and The Museum of Modern Art and curated by Jytte Jensen, of MoMA’s Film Department with Camilla Cormanni and Paola Ruggiero of Cinecittà Luce in Rome, the retrospective opened Wednesday December 15th and continues through January 12th.  It is sponsored by Eni S.p.A, an Italian energy company.  

 
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}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }The director of “The
Conformist” (1970), “Last Tango in Paris” (1972), “1900” (1976), “The
Last Emperor” (1987), and “The Dreamers” (2003), met the press at the
Italian Cultural Institute to discuss the retrospective of his work –
Bernardo Bertolucci – which premiered at the Museum of Modern Art
Wednesday. Bernardo Bertolucci encompasses over 40 years of filmmaking
across 4 continents – from China, India and Africa to Rome and Paris –
 and it features 20 films in prints newly restored by Cinecittà Luce. 
The cinematic gems to be shown at MoMA include the critically acclaimed
films mentioned above as well as Bertolucci’s first film, “The Grim
Reaper” (1962), a thriller set in Rome, the U.S. premier of the rarely
seen 3-part documentary series, “Oil” (1967), and the original 5 hour
director’s cut of “1900”. Jytte Jensen, of MoMA’s Film
Department, Edoardo Ceccuti, of Cinecittà Luce, and Riccardo Viale, of
the Italian Cultural Institute were on hand to introduce the director.
 Vittorio Storaro, cinematographer and longtime Bertolucci collaborator,
also honored the director with his remarks.   With a
certain humility the maestro confessed that he makes films “because they
are less boring than my real life” while asserting that, throughout his
career, he has always remained faithful to an inner vision. The
influence of his predecessors, celebrated filmmakers such Roberto
Rossellini, Michelangelo Antonioni and Luchino Visconti, emerged in a
series of neorealist precepts: the hand’s on approach, improvisation,
the script as sketch, actors not as professionals but as players of
themselves. But for Bertolucci, who came of age in the
era of free love, sexual experimentation, and social revolution, the
experience of creating, of building and sculpting characters, is
distinctly sensual.  In his work, the human body is the canvas on which
history unfolds and human psychology releases its breathless beauty and
harrowing fragility.  Interiors are sparsely decorated and the
landscapes are empty – the human presence, however lost and small, looms
disproportionately. For Bertolucci, film is an
ecstatic experience - somewhere between fantasy, dream, and mystic
rapture.  Speaking to an audience of journalists and young filmmakers on
Monday, he defined his opus as “one long, continuous film” a procession
of images externalized according to a mystical pattern governed by
poetic inspiration.  Bertolucci affirmed that, although he writes and
re-writes his screenplays, he never looks at them once he begins
filming.  A neorealist tradition, perhaps, but Bertolucci’s films are
far from documentary in spirit.  They inhabit an alternate realm, which
however coterminous with reality, is rather the inexpressible world of
mortal confusion – or, as Cinecittà Luce Director Edoardo Ceccuti put it
in his introduction, “the stuff that dreams are made of”. Likewise
the relationship with his actors is an intimate one: he declared,
unabashedly, that he “falls in love with the actors”.  Indeed, the love
triangle Bertolucci, Brando, and Maria Schneider in “Last Tango in
Paris” is famously one of the most arresting and decadent dysfunctional 
relationships in the history of art.  Dismissing the fictional concept
of character, Bertolucci explained that he needs the interaction with
the human person, he needs “a face in front of [his] camera” and that he
uses the camera to delve into the mystery of that person, “to uncover
the secrets of their being” – both as an individual as well as in a
universally human way.  At times the director’s intensity and
extraordinary talent for inspiring complicity, have proven to be
dangerous and even ruinous.  Both Brando and Maria Schneider were said
to have felt violated by “Last Tango in Paris” and Marlon Brando refused
to speak to Bertolucci for nearly 15 years. In a list
of incredible talent that includes Jean-Louis Trintignant, Massimo
Girotti, Dominque Sanda, Gérard Dépardieu, Robert De Niro, Donald
Sutherland, Jill Clayburgh, Debra Winger, John Malkovich, Alida Valle,
Anouk Aimée, Peter O’Toole, and Jeremy Irons, Brando stands out as a
“sacred monster”, and the director was clearly as marked by the
experience of “Last Tango” as his actors.  He cites the film’s aftermath
as one of the two great artistic crises of his career.  The other being
the controversy over the length of his colossal epic, “1900”. As
rare as the retrospective itself may be, it is even rarer to have the
artist on hand to discuss his work.  And though a veteran of the
industry, Bertolucci seems to have lost none of the wonder and
excitement of a young director.  Far from disdaining television and new
media, he extolled the virtues of Mad Men, comparing it to the 19th
century novel, a “Dickens for the 21st Century”, and confessed to being
utterly vulnerable to its charms.  Moreover, digital technology is the
“digital chance” or the democratization of filmmaking and television and
cinema seem to have exchanged He observed that and cinema seem to
exchanging function and value. Despite the cerebral
quality of his filmmaking, Bertolucci, even at 90 and handicapped by a
stroke, is articulate.  He arrives almost punctually – especially
impressive in the world of Italian celebrity.  He speaks candidly and
sincerely but also very clearly and eloquently – demonstrating the
passion and feeling of an artist as well as the keen insight of a
practiced master of his craft.  He seemed happy to speak to journalists,
colleagues, and students alike.  And even after hours of interviews he
graciously entertained our request for a digital “autograph”, allowing
us to stage the photo above. Organized by Cinecittà
Luce and The Museum of Modern Art and curated by Jytte Jensen, of MoMA’s
Film Department with Camilla Cormanni and Paola Ruggiero of Cinecittà
Luce in Rome, the retrospective opened Wednesday December 15th and
continues through January 12th.  It is sponsored by Eni, an Italian
energy company.   From left to right: Jytte
Jensen of MoMA, Curator of , Consul General Francesco Maria Talò, and
Edoardo Ceccuti, Director of the Istituto Luce photos by Chiara Capponi

Memory, History and the Literary Conscience: "Libri come" in NYC

Jonathan Galassi's brilliant translation of Leopardi's "Canti" includes this excerpt from the canzone "La sera del dì di festa" [The Evening of the Holiday].  Young Giacomo strikes an operatic chord as nightfall on the village feast day celebration inspires him to contemplate the end of all things.  As he visualizes the missing pages of history, his mind's eye is filled with the ruin littered fields of epochs past.  "Where are those ancient peoples?", he cries.  What has become of their clamorous battles, their stunning tragedies, their sparkling monuments?  Silence falls like curtain over the theater of his hopes and dreams. 

E fieramente mi si stringe il core,
A pensar come tutto al mondo passa,
E quasi orma non lascia. Ecco è fuggito
Il dì festivo, ed al festivo il giorno
Volgar succede, e se ne porta il tempo
Ogni umano accidente. Or dov’è il suono
Di que’ popoli antichi? or dov’è il grido
De’ nostri avi famosi, e il grande impero
Di quella Roma, e l’armi, e il fragorio
Che n’andò per la terra e l’oceano?
Tutto è pace e silenzio, e tutto posa
Il mondo, e più di lor non si ragiona.

and my heart is stricken
to think how everything in this world passes
and barely leaves a trace. Look,
the holiday is gone, the workday follows,
and time makes off with every human thing.
Where is the clamor of those ancient peoples?
Where is the renown
of our famed anscestors, and the great empire
of their Rome, her armies,
and the din she made on land and sea?
Everything is peace and quieto now,
the world is calm, and speaks no more of them.

Following an animated reading by Mr. Galassi himself, Benedetta Tobagi and Stefan Merrill Block concluded Radio3’s New York edition of the popular "Libri come" program with an impassioned investigation of the treacherous "silent peace" Leopardi laments in his poem. 

Rosa Polacco, one of the festival curators, confessed that the idea to bring the two into conversation had occurred to her intuitively.  As it turns out, Polacco's notion was fortuitous because together, the two exposed the multiplicity of ideas and meanings associated with the term "memory".   What does memory mean to an individual, a family, a community, a nation?  A tangle of neurons and sinuous membranes, the organic tissue of one's brain matter and, at the same time, a knot of names, places and dates – buildings and monuments – destined to decay and crumble.  Geneology, archeology, historical record, collective memory, social memory, oral tradition, memoir, documentary, ritual, convention, commemoration.  The ancient shadows of Homer, Plato and Virgil in these authors’ works seem to beckon us to consider the crossover point between personal stories and public history.

The act of remembering, as Benedetta and Stefan show us, is as much a search for humanity as it is for truth and facts.   Benedetta’s memoir, whose title reads in a bold red: “Come mi batte forte il tuo cuore” (How Your Heart Beats Fast within Me) and in smaller, black print: “Storia di mio padre” (The Story of My Father), recounts her search for the father who was both famous and patently obscure.  Too well known and, to his daughter - merely 3 years old when he was assassinated - virtually unknown.  For the orphaned Benedetta, the facts, already problematic in their malleability, were soulless without the force of a familiar embrace or the venerable nuisance of paternal advice.

"È triste non ricordare il volto di una persona amata, ignorare quell’impasto di dettagli che la rende inconfondibile.  Il modo di muovere le mani – mani larghe, ma dalle dita affusolate, come le mie -, la piega delle spalle, l’andatura, magari un tic, un vezzo.  Particolari che le fotografie mostrano a malapena, gesti e attitudini appena suggeriti" (93).  

"It is sad not to remember a loved one’s face, to be ignorant of that mixture of details which renders him unmistakable.  The way he moves his hands – broad palms with tapered fingers, like my own -, the curve of his spine, his stride, maybe a twitch or a quirky habit.  Details which scarcely show up in photographs; gestures and positions that are merely distant suggestions".  

Likewise, Stefan’s fiction represents a recherche of sorts: for the tragic humanity at the heart of Alzheimer’s disease.  His novel, "The Story of Forgetting", blends imaginary characters with scientific research and, one supposes, at least a bit of documentary testimony.  Thus, it is not only a “story” about forgetting but also a “history” of the malady.  We imagine the protagonist Seth to be the author’s courageous avatar – clearing the clinical cobwebs, ransacking the attic, confronting his father.  Only Seth is looking for his mother: the person in which he originated and whose mystery he carries, written in his DNA.  In other words, the facts alone are as cold and sterile as the nursing home where the ailing woman is confined.  While interviewing a young lady who lost a loved one to the illness, Seth experiences a sudden rush of insight:

"My imagination of their sadness and hope; it was as if there had been a hollow, unfathomable dark place and their stories had held light to its walls, mapping its depths.  (…) Maybe the point of my so-called empirical investigation had been as simple as that, to hear their stories and, by imagining the shapes of their burdens, to being to understand the shape of my own" (252).  

It is perhaps fitting to conclude with one of Benedetta’s most moving discoveries.  Among the young Walter’s notes, there are several letters which testify to his passion for journalism (“the most beautiful career in the world”).  No topic or assignment was undesirable or uninteresting: “You get used to anything and everything.  There is humanity in every situation, you just have to know how to find it and to appreciate its worth”(68).  In short, in this world at least, the truth and the human are incontrovertibly linked. 

It seems that Benedetta has taken these lessons to heart, as one of the founders of the Case della memoria (Houses of Memory), an initiative aimed at reconciling the victims of terrorism to nothing less than history itself and with the idea of creating and fostering a community of understanding – because, when one loses someone dear, the facts alone are wholly insufficient.

Jonathan Galassi is President and Publisher at Farrar, Strauss and Giroux where he has held various executive offices since 1985.  His numerous translations from the Italian include the oeuvre of the poet Eugenio Montale.  His translation of Leopardi's "Canti" is the first in over 50 years. 

Benedetta Tobagi lives in Milan but travels frequently to speak to young people and to promote the Case della memoria initiatives she has enthusiastically embraced.  She is pursuing a Ph.D. in Philosophy part-time at the University of Oxford in London.  Her father, Walter Tobagi, a journalist for Corriere della Sera, was assassinated by a member of the Red Brigades in 1980.  The circumstances surrounding his death – and the reason for his targeting – remain unresolved.  Her book is also an investigation of the colossal scandal which may have led to his death.

Stefan Merrill Block lives in Brooklyn, NY.  His debut novel, "The Story of Forgetting" - written at the age of 26 -  was an international bestseller.  Enormously popular in Italy, the book captured the attention of Walter Veltroni who penned a laudatory review.  Growing up, Block helped to care for his grandmother who suffered with familial Alzheimer’s.  He very recently concluded a second manuscript on his grandfather's life.  The author attended Washington University of St. Louis and, when he isn’t writing, he makes documentary films. 

Monday evening, Casa Italiana Zerilli-Marimò hosted Nicola Gardini for the presentation of his latest book, Rinascimento [Renaissance], Einaudi, 2010.  Gardini, who received his Ph.D. in Comparative Literature at New York University, is now Lecturer in Medieval and Modern Languages at Oxford.  He was introduced by his former advisor and mentor Daniel Javitch, Professor of Comparative Literature, NYU; Stefano Albertini, Director of Casa Italiana; and Jane Tylus, Professor of Italian Studies and Director of the Humanities Initiative, NYU.

“This project aims at the heart of the Renaissance,” Gardini explained, “which I identify more with a culture and a mentality than with an historical period.  I wanted to tell a story that would also reach a non-academic public and I wanted it to be about literature.” 

The literary angle is a distinctive feature of the book and it allows the author to explore the soul of the Renaissance to unprecedented depths.  Renaissance means re-birth, yes, but the stirring, in Gardini’s vision, like the awakening from a beautiful dream, is more thoughtful and painful than the re-discovery of antiquity is commonly held to imply.  Gardini’s focus is temporality: the discovery of secular time and the understanding of being and asserting oneself within it. 

But with the discovery of time comes, necessarily, the knowledge of its passing, just as the unearthing of the past is also the revelation of its loss.   And yet, noble poet scholars from Petrarch to Ariosto, Poliziano, Machiavelli and Guicciardini labored all the same to bring the monumental fragments they uncovered to light.  And Gardini discusses their projects with the subtlety of an author who has toiled over the very same texts which kept their candles burning late into the night. 

Rinascimento’s titles speak to the lyrical inspiration behind Gardini’s efforts: “Time and Things”, “Virgil’s Real Name”, “The Historian and the Poet”,  “The Wound of Being”, “The Shadow of Others”,  “Congedo”.  Likewise, his poignant conclusion summarizes the dialectic between recovery and loss inherent in the “new” knowledge of history. “Born to conquer time, the Renaissance ends by surrendering to it.”

Scholar, poet and essayist, Gardini was educated in Classics at the University of Milan.  He is the author of numerous important literary studies, critical editions and translations.  His most controversial book, I baroni [The Barons], a memoir on corruption in the Italian university system, sent shockwaves through the Italian press.  Ted Hughes, Emily Dickinson and W.H. Auden are just a few of the poets he has translated into Italian.