Bellochio

I haven’t seen enough of his films. But mostly he has been an interesting experience. I found out about Aldo Moro and the years of lead from Buongiorno, notte. “Wait, it’s real?” was my thought at the time, an Italian PM was actually kidnapped and later killed. I couldn’t believe it, and nowadays find it awful how USA centric our news feeds are, when there are more relevant and passionate arguments being played out in EU politics.

I’m jotting down this scribble because I saw Blood of my Blood. It flipped me back to when Isobel translated the Italian subtitles to an Italian DVD of Sorelle Mai which I’d only seen at a festival in London previously. I was enchanted by that - it seemed like a free jazz of a film (in a good sense). Freed from costly production by shooting of cheap DV, this was shot over several years with a group of actors and family (including Alba Rohrwacher, who forms part of a talented family with her sister Alice (director of The Wonders)).

Anyhow, Blood of my blood. What to say.

He passed his entire life, immaculate,
angry and disdainful,
and death saw him escape the worst.
Vittorio, this was not the place or time
for you. Other ages, other regions
are needed for noble minds. Now
we live content with inaction,
led by mediocrity: the wise have fallen
and the crowd have risen to form this single space
where the world is levelled. O famous explorer,
go on: wake the dead,
now that the living are asleep: arm the mute
tongues of former heroes: so that, at last,
this age of mud may either stir to life, and rise
to noble action, or sink in shame.