It’s like we’re living in another time. That is no time for big ideas, let alone for symbols, slogans, or hymns. The emblems thrown at auctions are touched by an anti-King Midas modernity that makes everything touchable in this trash. Also convictions, beliefs, or values, difficulties, and ends in a blanket path.
But there are symbols again. One-sided ones, too. Almost no one is waving the hammer and sickle anymore because it is an old and even criminal flag. Even if it is for terrorist items like Palestinian flags or handkerchiefs, are they banned in Germany, England, and Spain?
Rather, it is the height of hip take to the streets Carlist banners demand that the ruling branch of the family be replaced by another branch of the same family, a demand that is hot on the topic and very important (wink, wink, nudge) for most Spaniards. This is also done in the COLD the Roman salute—they thought a lot about the Empire—or wrapped themselves in red-brown chicken type or crowns—the reigning branch—even in strategic cuts. grunge on the same crown, and even imprinted Celtic runes or solar crosses with a Sanskrit name. A wave of signs swept across the West: the hip totalitarian with all kinds of accessories, even himself, hit of beautiful musical hits. In its Hall of Fame, Ultra is the national anthem, with lyrics by Pemán and the always catchy Facing the Sun. The Falange song was an idea of the founder when leaving the cinema after watching a movie, Be Careful, gabacha: flag (Duvivier, 1935), where Jean Gabin ended up in the Spanish legion. JA went up and called some friends, telling them to write a hymn immediately. And he threatens the lazy with castor oil rations. Typical good fascist humor was shamelessly copied, like other Falangist props, from the Italians.
The wind blew It is an Italian partisan song composed in the middle of the Second World War, with the music of the Soviet song. Katyusha, a melody that also gave its name to a famous rocket launcher that the Nazis nicknamed “Stalin’s organ”—no, that’s not what they had in mind. He continued to participate in the Italian anti-fascist songbook with The International, Red Flag, or Hello, Beautiful, another symbol stripped of its origins and regurgitated in the form of pop junk. Although there are hymns that can resist all and even suitable movies, such as The Marseillaise (1938) by the anti-fascist Jean Renoir and The Wind Blasted, At least that’s what Marco Bellocchio believes Good Morning (2003), a personal and unflinching reconstruction of the kidnapping and murder of Aldo Moro by the Red Brigades in 1978 The elderly atheist Roger Chest Pain—a ball player—continues to criticize injustices. At the age of 84, he has just released The Rapture, which tells the true story of a Jewish boy kidnapped by the Vatican. He didn’t stop.
The wind is blowing, the storm is raging, we have broken shoes, and we still have to go to conquer the red spring, where the day will be in the future. (The wind blows, the storm rages, we break our shoes, and we still have to go to conquer the red spring, where the sun will someday rise.)
With that day from the future in the first verse of The Wind Blasted, titled his latest film Nanni Moretti. His militancy, like that of Bellochio, is well known: another chest pain on the left, but always from the game and funny. A cynical spirit far from cynicism, Moretti is one of the last profound humanist filmmakers. The Sun of the Future A director-actor, his usual partner, tries to change the course of history—but not like Tarantino—to avoid the PCI’s original sin: its support for Stalin in the 1956 invasion of Hungary, when Soviet tanks crushed the attempt. revolution that left 2,500 dead—Gaza has more than 11,300 as we write this—and 200,000 refugees. The opposite of the power of weapons, bad and tyrannical, is the power of imagination, of creation. Cinema changes, transforms, and creates magic, Nanni repeats. Despite the dark days of his future as a filmmaker, he was faced with stupidity and greed—platforms; remember the Hollywood strike—or the absurd violence of the industrial image. It’s so hard to let you do it again, you know. That’s why he was so quick to tell us that The Sun of the Future This, more than an autobiographical film and a love song to the work of filmmaking, is a thrillingly important testament to hope and confidence in progress.
Before the power of weapons, bad and oppressive, is the power of imagination, of creation.
That future day is when we will sing and dance together, Moretti promised, in the giant embrace of the music of Franco Battiato, also a great ball player, lover of the rhythms of the earth, and lover of the music of all the people of the world.
By the way, the pessimistic vitalist Roman filmmaker always sends the same message—in addition to recommending Sacher cake—to representatives, militants, former presidents, and old glories of supposedly progressive parties:
The wind blew, encouraging Moretti; he warned against the fascists and even threatened them with a vendetta for each of their deaths. You have to put yourself in the shoes of the partisans. In addition to suffering 20 years of Mussolini’s dictatorship, they were persecuted and destroyed in an unequal guerilla war against the armies of Nazi Germany, and that made them very angry. The exact number of those killed in the Resistance is unknown due to three consecutive amnesties, and the Nazi-fascist crimes against partisans and civilians were archived until 1994, when the documentation of the Areatine massacre graves (1944) was revealed. Most of the files have expired.
Like the Italians, the Fascists in Spain also had bad habits. Even in peacetime, see their songs facing the sun on Ferraz Street, where they threaten the peaceful purpose of attacking the PSOE headquarters. For them, the war is not over until their enemies are captured and disarmed. For those captives, the partisans had another song: The Hymn of May 1 (May Day Anthem). Also version, but not Russian but very Itaa lian: it adapts to the well-known It’s a thought from Verdi’s Nabucco. Converted since its premiere into a national symbol and unofficial anthem of Italy occupied by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, performed at the Scala in Milan, Verdi was paid in Austrian lire for his opera, although as an Italian nationalist, freethinker, and anticlerical, he criticized Garibaldi. The libretto by Temistocle Solera, son of a Carbonarian, Rojero, in the nineteenth century, is based on the Book of Kings by the prophet Jeremiah: after a war that killed 100,000 Jews, the genocidal king Nebuchadnezzar expelled the Hebrews from their land and enslaved them. they. When, sorrowful, they sat by the riversof Babylon and wept for their lost homeland, they sang the famous It’s a tThought also known as “The Slave Chorus.” A universal song against oppression, slavery, colonialism, and all the genocidal empires that are destroying the earth. Who are the slaves of Nabucco today? Surely you have in mind some massacred city right now, right now, the moment you read these lines. The mind is flying. Do you remember the crisis that started in 2008? An era of austerity policies, brutal cuts, and black men as emissaries of injustice is still alive. Another form of despotism that, like the COVID pandemic, has led to an infectious global disease that kills the most vulnerable Today’s lack of wages comes from the past. In some sectors, such as the cultural sector, pre-crisis salaries have not been reached again. So he is It’s a thought It is echoed again as an anthem against the cuts that impoverish all workers, such as those in culture. It was at the opera house in Rome, thanks to Riccardo Muti, and the whole theater was standing. Don’t miss his speech about the motherland.
A sad and beautiful cry for freedom—true freedom—accompanied by images of injustice Nebuchadnezzar continues to crush us with his hatred and cruelty; his proclamations are everywhere. The Palestinians bombed, were expelled, and took their goods into exile, like slaves in antiquity. And also with other exodus such as the Sahrawis, the Syriexodusshe migrants from half the world, and those who arrive in boats to the shores of Europe and spit them out like garbage, without rights, without justice. The day of tomorrow will go by without martial anthems, battle flags, or symbols of hatred. Let’s sing together, as Maestro Muti said; let’s dance to the music of comfort and hope, as Maestro Moretti said. With our thoughts, we accompany all the outcasts of the earth. Their future is ours; it is now, and it is in our hands to make it better than it is today.
It’s like we live in other times. That is no time for big ideas, let alone for symbols, slogans, or hymns. The emblems thrown at auctions are touched by an anti-King Midas modernity that makes everything touchable in this trash. Also, convictions, beliefs, or values, odds, and ends are broken about…