Reviews of Italian Films - Now Easily Accessible

We liked this one mainly for its
views of Rome.  Review
here.  

On "our" (2 Film Critics) movie review site, we now have a category for Italian films. [To "follow" 2 Film Critics, click the bouncing "Follow Us" turquoise button below our photo, here: www.2filmcritics.com.]

The new "Italian" category, which supplements a "Foreign- All" category, includes films produced in Italy, films about Italy (and specifically Rome in many cases), and films in the Italian language, or all 3!

Generally, we review only new releases, and therefore most of these were newly released when we reviewed them.  There are a few "oldies but goodies" that focus on the city of Rome (e.g. Stazione Termini - ostensibly by De Sica, but mercilessly cut to an American version titled "Indiscretion of an American Housewife" - review here.    

Currently, there are a dozen films in this new category. For 2020, one of these was in our Top 10 (see our Top Ten here) - "Martin Eden" - review here; and one was an honorable mention for 2020, "Il Traditore (the Traitor)" - review here.

You can browse the category by clicking "other" and then "Italian" under the categories right above the review thumbnails on the home page. 

It's here: https://www.2filmcritics.com/2filmcritics/categories/italian

This "Italianization" of a semi-autobiographical
Jack London story earned a spot in 2 Film
Critics' Top 10 for 2020.

We don't want to close without mentioning some "sleepers" - fascinating films that didn't get a lot of press, such as A Ciambra (review here) and Piazza Vittorio (review here) - both of which deal with immigrants in 21st century Italy. 

And we also feature films by 2 of Italy's most prominent working directors, Nanni Moretti ("Mia Madre" - review here) and Ferzan Ozpetek ("Facing Windows" - review here), most of whose films are situated in Rome.

Buona visione!

Dianne and Bill

A New Museum of 20th-Century Italian Art - A Construction Mogul Gives Back (a little or a lot?)

A portrait of the Cerasis by Stefano Di Stasio (2016),
against the backdrop of one of the artworks in their
collection, Ballo sul fiume ["Dance along the river"] (1935-36) 

by Giuseppe Capogrossi.

The display of 20th-century Italian art took a giant leap forward this year with the opening of a new private museum in Rome, Palazzo Merulana.

The Palazzo is a refurbished - in essence, reconstructed - 1929 building housing the department of public hygiene. It holds 90 works collected by the construction mogul, Claudio Cerasi and his wife, Elena.

The Department of Hygiene as it looked when it opened in
1929.  You could get vaccinations there.

The Cerasis have performed a trifecta: they saved a worthy building, they opened magnificent artworks to the public, and they breathed life into a somewhat run-down neighborhood.

Whether all that public value is a net public benefit or not, more later.

Giacomo Balla's "Primo Carnero, Campione
del Mondo ("Champion of the World"),
oil on panel with mesh, 1933.

The building and the art work are worth a visit, and--by Rome standards--it's not expensive!  Only Euro 5 for a regular ticket, Euro 4 for concessions (like youth and teachers and you don't have to be an EU citizen to get those concessions) -- another Euro 1 discount through September 30, btw.

The art work is beautifully and creatively displayed.  We're talking De Chirico, Balla, Sironi, Pirandello, Severini, Cambellotti, among the many artists represented. There are a few 21st-century works as well. 

 I'm not sure of the date of this Matteo Pugliese (b. 1969) sculpture (left), which could be 20th or 21st century -  "La Spinta" - "The Push."  It's interestingly located in the outdoor terrace where one can have lunch or coffee - the first floor of the Palazzo, which houses most of the sculptures, is free. 

All Ontani's works are self-
reflective and look like him.

There's also a bust of Dante by Luigi Ontani, about whom we've written.

Arturo Martini's "Victoria on her
Way" (Vittoria in cammino), 1932,
note the fasci.

The building as it looked before the Cerasis
started to reconstruct it (more photos at the
end of this post).

On the fourth floor, which is primarily meeting space, there are photos of the building when it opened, when it fell into ruin, and when it was reconstructed.  All fascinating.  I read that the building was bombed, and that would explain the 1/3 that was missing.  But I also read it was slated for demolition in the 1950s and the demolition was halted - and that is the explanation.  What seems clear is that it was left in a partly demolished state for some 50 years.  So indeed its reclamation is astounding.

Part of the sculpture court and cafe' today.

Same area as photo above left, under construction.

I mentioned above the via Merulana neighborhood has been a little run-down.  It was clearly an upper-class neighborhood when built up in the early 20th century.  It also has some fame, partly as a result of an almost unreadable but significant novel by Carlo Emilio Gadda, "That Awful Mess on Merulana Street."  Palazzo Merulana clearly adds beauty to the street.  The Palazzo also is near Piazza Vittorio, now the locus of many immigrants in Rome (see our review of the documentary by that name), and seen by some as degraded.  Again, Palazzo Merulana's luster helps that area, too.

This is an excellent museum from which to get a perspective on 20th-century Rome - the building, the collection, the neighborhood.  

The question I raised at the top about net value revolves around the issue of a private museum generally. What did the Cerasis get in government support and tax breaks for this project?  Do the artworks remain available to the public even after their deaths? Would the Cerasis have contributed more to the public good by donating their money and their collection to a public museum?  In fact, the Cerasi construction company got the contract to build the national contemporary gallery, MAXXI.  Designed in concrete by Zaha Hadid, that must have been a heckuva contract. I wrote about this issue for theAmerican/inItalia's law column in August; here's the link.

Palazzo Merulana today

Palazzo Merulana is open 2-8 p.m. Monday, Wednesday through Friday, and 10 a.m. - 8 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Last entrance 9 p.m. Closed Tuesday. Cafe' open 8:30 a.m. - 9 p.m. every day except Tuesday. Because it's open Mondays and not Tuesdays, this is an option for a Monday when most museums are closed. Website in Italian and English. Easily reachable from the Manzoni Metro stop on the A Line.  Also walkable from Piazza Vittorio and the Coliseum and their Metro stops on the A and B lines respectively.

Dianne

Water, Water, Everywhere? Rome's "Dry" Fountains

RST is pleased to welcome Romaphile Joan Schmelzle as guest blogger for this report on some of Rome's most curious fountains--those that don't have any water.  Joan is a graduate of Northern Illinois University and taught English in the region for many years.  She is currently active in the Center for Learning in Retirement in Rockford, Illinois.  In November, she'll experience the wonders of Rome not for the 2nd time, but the 13th. 

Having traveled to Rome several times over the last 50 years, I knew that Rome was a city of fountains and a city proud of its fountains and its wonderful water supply.  What I wasn’t ready for on my last trip was the many dry fountains that I ran into during my “fountain hunt.” 

Sad Eagle

 I found these lifeless fountains in many different parts of the city, and often there didn’t seem to be much reason for them.  I was especially surprised to see several in the Vatican Gardens during my tour.  I did see several men working in one or two different areas, but none on the fountains.  Of course, all the big show fountains were burbling away, but a couple were especially noticeable.  First was a somewhat sad looking eagle.  Judging from what looked like spouts on the top, water should have been pouring over him.   

Still thirsty

Another was a sea creature that seemed to be trying for a drink from a shell.  I fear he stayed thirsty.

Waterless Borghese Rocks

 Wandering through the Villa Borghese, I found a small area of rocks that  appeared to have once been swept by a wide flow of water and now seemed lifeless without it.   

Headless satyr (center)

I believe the saddest dry fountain in the Villa was the Fountain of the Satyrs, also called by the author H. V. Morton [see link to Morton's fountain book at the end of this post] the Fountain of Joy.  And I’m sure it once was a joyful sight.  But when I saw not only was it dry, but the smallest satyr, who was being bounced on the extended arms of the other two, was headless. This is one I would like to see being joyful again when I return to Rome.

A Dry Neptune

Across from the Pincio Hill end of Villa Borghese is one of the two huge fountains placed there by Valadier, who designed the Piazza del Popolo as we now see it.  Unfortunately, a huge statue of Neptune had no water for him to rule over.  

Monti

In another lively area of Rome, Monti, there is a fountain that I have seen running very happily with water and surrounded by people out enjoying their neighborhood.  On this trip, the fountain was dry, but it was decorated with several colorful balloons.  It seemed like the neighborhood wanted to add some life to its gathering place.

Dry wrestling

In the large park-like Piazza Vittorio, I found what at first looked like a series of twisted arms and legs but finally seemed to be at least two men wrestling with a large sea creature.

Nearby was what I took to be a tall ruin of a building, but on more research was found to be the ruins of a fountain that was once part of the ancient Trophies of Marius.

Marforio

Famous old Marforio, one of Rome’s talking statues, sits alone and dry in the entry of the Palazzo Nuovo on the Capitoline Hill.  He and his “friends” often exchanged criticisms of the government, the church, or whatever person or group that they felt deserved it. 

 Also dry this trip was Babuino, one of Marforio’s “friends,” after whom Via Babuino was named.   On my next trip I expect to see him with his trough filled; he was being restored last I saw him.

Apollo

 The garden of Palazzo Barberini, one of Rome’s top galleries, has been restored.  However, the water had not yet been sent to its fountains.  A restored Apollo with his lyre waited at the top of the hill for the water to make music for him.  Elsewhere in the garden were some rocks that looked like they should be fountains and which had water in the basins around them, but it looked more like rain water, and nothing was coming out of the spouts.

Pig and a Plaque

I conclude with one of my favorites—technically, no longer a fountain.  A small plaque with a pig atop tells the story.  With a little help from my Italian dictionary, it says: “On this site was placed the fountain which was in the way of the corner of Via dei Portughesi in the year 1874.”  I know that I won’t find water if I return to this little pig, but I certainly hope that some of my other dry finds will again be lively with good Roman water.

 A presto, Roma

Joan Schmelzle

PS from Dianne - Joan cites one of our favorite books - Morton's "Fountains of Rome."  See the end of our earlier post on the "fontanone" for info on the book; if you're a Romaphhile - get it.

Capital Days

In a few days stretch recently, Rome hosted a G-8 meeting, was the scene of the world soccer championship finals, had a big national holiday (Republic Day, June 2), and was the last stage of the classic Italian bicycle tour (Giro d'Italia - photo at right near the beginning in front of the Vittoriano, in Piazza Venezia, with the rain just starting), celebrating its 100th year. Being visitors, and not having to get to and from work or figure out what to do with our kids on a holiday, we enjoy the hubbub (tho' it did upset my plans that Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi was in town today, closing down the Capitolini museums). Rome usually overreacts (in our HO) to all these events, closing more streets, businesses, and venues than it seems to us they need to, becoming an "armed city," as the papers say, and frustrating everyone.

Rome surprised us for the Giro d'Italia by being organized and yet not overly protective. In fact, we were shocked at how close we - and everyone else - could get to the riders, how easily anyone could cross the route, how friendly some of the police guarding the route were, and how fun it all was. The last stage was a time trial - so the riders went off at 1 and then 2 minute intervals. (Photo at right - police motorcycle escorts pulling out of the pool to run in advance of a rider; bottom of Trajan's column across the street.) For people who weren't that interested, we spent almost 3 hours watching the riders at various places, including turns and wet cobblestones (the winner, Russian Menchov, fell near the end - just out of our sight). It's a lovely sight to see Rome as the backdrop (and ground) for an exciting race; it shows off the city at its best (photo at left, rider coming off the Pincio - and several hairpin curves) into Piazza del Popolo).

The few photos here give some semblance of that feeling. (Photo below left, rider on via del Corso; below 2nd left, merchandise van - the winner of each stage wears a pink shirt (and, no, Mom didn't buy her the stuffed animal with Giro logo); last photo, bottom right, nearing the home stretch.) Dianne

Imagining Failure: Rome's New Markets

We've always been interested in artists' renderings of buildings proposed or under construction. They're fantasies. Although artists' drawings are supposed to reflect the "reality" of what's about to be built, they inevitably expand and stretch that reality to make it more compelling and more comforting than the actual structure is likely to be, usually by including people--often, lots of people (that's a key part of the fantasy) walking around enjoying the new space.

So we were surprised to find, when we passed the billboard-size artist renderings of the new, under-construction Testaccio market, that the fantasy they projected was so lifeless, so sterile, so brittle.

As our readers may know, the old, semi-enclosed, outdoor markets of Rome, conglomerations of metal sheds, really--are rapidly being replaced by fully covered and enclosed structures in which merchants have their own interior shops and stands. This has already happened at Ponte Milvio, where the sheds have been replaced with a confusing brick building that isolates the merchants, and, to better effect, near Piazza Vittorio, where the new building's interior manages to retain something of the dynamics of movement, sound and community that are essential characteristics of the old markets. There are plans afoot, we're told, to replace the hundred or so stands of our own market at Piazza San Giovanni di Dio (see photo), in Monte Verde Nuovo, with something new. Many Italians, among them some of our friends, welcome the trend; they want markets that are clean, spacious, and attractive.

Elbow-to-elbow shopping among tattered and rusted metal sheds is not for everyone, we understand. But something is being lost, we think, when even the artists whose job it is to imagine the new markets--and make them objects of desire--seem unable to offer an enticing vision of the future, one that at the very least ought to combine the "modern" elements of the new markets with the energy and communal intensity of the old ones. All too often that doesn't happen--at Ponte Milvio and, as we look at the artists' renderings, in Testaccio. Bill

Rome loves a march or were the communists attacking the church?

Cotton fluff in a 15th century hospital ward, Chinese shops open midday, threatened attacks on a church, Bulgarian cinema--Rome never fails to entertain us.

Yesterday we started out at an art installation set in the old (as in 15th century) 100+ yard-long hospital ward of Santo Spirito in Sassia, near the Vatican. I'd always wanted to see this complex, and Stefano Arienti's art installation, Enciclopedia, came close to evoking the old ward--spectacular and eerie at the same time... who needs Dan Brown?

We proceeded to a building, rarely open to the public, with tours led by a group we respect, the Fondo per l'ambiente italiano, or FAI, kind of a public preservation trust (what they did to restore Tivoli's Villa Gregoriana is amazing - p. 173 of our book). I thought hey, get into another palazzo, with an odd name - Zecca - maybe it means "pumpkin", I told Bill... whoops - zecca is the mint... the first comprehensive mint after Italian unification in 1870 (built in the early 1900s), now a museum & school for medallion makers. One thing Dino, our well-informed FAI guide, could not do is show any coin or medallion from the Fascist era - they weren't there (but there are plenty in flea markets around the city). Bill adds: despite the mint's recent conversion to a school, the event brought out an oversupply of (male and female)beefy, sullen, suspicious, security guards from multiple state agencies.

We walked a block to the heart of Rome's immigrant area, Piazza Vittorio, ringed by tiny basement shops selling thousands of sunglasses, costume jewelry & clothes ... all run by Asians. After a beer at an outdoor bar/cafe, joining at least 7 other nationalities, we ambled thru the piazza where basketball ("basket") was the order of the day... looks like the US, said Bill, but a ways away from a Gus Macker tournament.

We came to the nearby Santa Maria Maggiore and, as I crossed the usually terrifying street in front of this immense basilica, Bill says where are all the cars? Then we see 50 or so Guardia della Finanza (basically tax enforcers) in riot gear. Bill asks one what's up. He responds, in clear Italian, "The communists want to attack the church." Seems unlikely, but, as we walk around the back of the church - roads all still blocked off - we see thousands of people and sound trucks covering via Cavour... soon it's apparent we're seeing the front of a march to legalize marijuana - the Million Marijuana March (and we now know that event, ironically invoking the 1995 Million Man March designed to instill pride in African-American men, has been going on since 1999 in cities around the world). Rome's version is enormous (video below). We head out before we see the end of it and guess the numbers are over 100,000. maybe over 250,000. Bill enjoys the "floats" (soundtrucks blasting heavy metal selling beer and wine off the back), and the stylish chicks curbside rolling spleefs.

Although we would have liked to stay for the attack on the church, we don't want to be late for our evening movie in the Bulgarian film series - which demonstrates all too clearly the Bulgarians are still working out their repressive post-WWII Communist period.

Back to our apartment (where we started the day buying potted bougainvillea to compensate a bit for our chopped-off trees). I'm happy; Bill thinks we overdid it. The kind of day in Rome that enticed us to share with others the Rome we know.

Dianne (with sharp commentary by Bill)