Francesco Merlo La Repubblica today:
Benigni horse crap and Sanremo
It took the jokes and antics of Roberto Benigni on horseback, happy parody of the monument Risorgimento, Ciampi to tell us that his grandfather has done it and that our bad anthem has finally become an anthem. Although it is true that we must above all to the league, its cafonaggine, promoting quell'oltraggiata march Mameli that until a few years ago none of us listened with passion. Benigni has articulated as a living body, he murmured and made it excessive, and laughing, "the helmet of Scipio" has shown that has grown so much in the national sentiment that it really works now as a sign of strength of the country. To the point that it now denies innova who wants to deny Italy. And it is a great success for the Festival in 1951 he left as a second expedition of the Thousand, the Italian song against the Bourbon Neapolitan songs at that time was our identity. The festival had the mission of making the national song, Nilla Pizzi was the antidote to Giacomo Rondinella. Togliani Achilles and the duo set sail from the rocks Fasano Liguria Sanremo as Garibaldi had sailed from the rocks of the Ligurian Quarto.
And yet, despite the chaos of open living & style Benigni, his jokes and Mameli Berlusconi on Italy nation "minor", on "My Prisons" Pellico wrote that thinking about Silvio, and Cavour "caught the grandson of Metternick-Mubarak "again in Sanremo Italy was not there, if not false, as ridiculous crap from ballet tricolor puppets who have belittled even the William Tell by Rossini. And there is no worse than to wave a giant flag to supplant the home. Benigni has high ridendone and nationalist rhetoric and monumental fanfare they chased back into the fog, in the mirage.
'm definitely a fake "U surdatu nnamurato" and the soldier of "Farewell My Lovely Farewell" that never existed because it picciotti Guaglione and shot in the foot so as not to give the Italian army's weakness, while not From the military: "I do not want war," sang that yesterday in the Italian Gaber-Sanremo was crap in effigy, he waved and then betrayed. There was a soldier instead of De André, so considerate towards an enemy that "shouldering the artillery / not reciprocating the courtesy. " There was the cloying love songs of the modulated miserere Catholic sull'afflizione and suffering as lullabies, and even a room in the sky has lost its subversive of libertinism. There was poverty as happy dream of a thousand pounds a month, Patty Pravo massacred, but there were heavy misery and malaise of a country, then as now, willing to do anything. And there were the "sole mio" celebrated dall'inquietante Anna Oxa and the usual "mama / I return to you" are two of our national disgrace, which blunts the sun and the mother who condemn us all'Italietta of big babies. E "Italian with a guitar in hand" is the stereotype that we are ashamed of. Fortunately, the wonderful interpretation of Al Bano made us realize that we listen more "Va pensiero" and more run to hide the evil thought that the League wants to make the soundtrack of the Risorgimento in the hymn of secession. The bad interpretation of the Northern League star David Van De Sfroos, which means old smuggler in Lombard, you have entrusted "Long live Italy". This 'smuggler and a good musician and esteemed bard but was out of place in fake nationalist, and perhaps precisely because it is quality, a little' how to beat that seemed to mock the conductor, the Scannagatti Toto makes the hearing differed from the publisher.
There were songs of liberation and popular ones on the left, the weeders and died in Reggio Emilia, nor were the songs of two decades, Poppies and ducks, and "awakened by the rooster / mirrored in the stream" and nothing white telephones and tangos of jealousy, nothing erotic turmoil, there was the sexual liberation of Patty Pravo. And Masi and La Russa in the front row seemed to be the godfathers of Mazzi and Mazza, director of mediocrity. Even
Sacco and Vanzetti is just a parody of national pride because if they were not Italian but French or English or German Americans would not have allowed to assassinate him. And the God who died of Gucci? And the engine that runs against the bosses? And the shampoo? And the songs of protest? And Luigi Tenco Sanremo that buried?
Taken one by one almost all of these songs are classics, and then emotions postcard, postcards if they still existed. But not all together compose the epic national football finals with Pertini, from Bolzano to Cefalù identity that is made of water and mountains, gourmet recipes and character, idea of \u200b\u200bbeauty, emotion before the images of the Holy Cross or the Dome or Etna or masks of the Carnival of Venice, schools and prefectures, and servants of the Salesian oratories State of good priests and sections of the PCI, burned faces of sailors and peasants, in short, everything that has a real relationship with our memories, but no flags waving roots hidden in the depths of time and history, that contagious smile as we exchange singing "then suddenly I was abducted by the wind / and started to fly in the infinite sky" in a country where it is sweet also fail.
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