Constance Ognibeni
www.cineforme.it
They sound the death knell of the bells in the 70's anthem that accompanied the actions of young anarchists who rebelled the established power. The song, taken from a poem written by a soldier in the resistance of Fossombrone directly from prison in 1967, echoes in the mind of the curious spectator who pays for the first time to attend the screening of the film that the 'artist wrote and produced in 2003. Stories of revolution, tales of clandestine struggle. Stories of rebellion without an identity. The Galleon is the background that accompanies the story of Clare in the era of the early lead. Clare, 23 years. Librarian to the Ministry of day: vacant look, austere clothes. And no light in his eyes.
Clare, 23 years. RB, at night: rebel, rebellious, subversive. He lives with Ernesto, and Mariano with Primo, comrades struggle. Together, they fight for the freedom of the people. Together, they struggle for the overthrow of a power that has settled in their country, but even more so in their minds. But Dr. Jekyll had tried to kill Mr. Hyde, because he could not bear that beast that had taken possession of his body. Physically kill him, however, was even suicide.
Destruction. This is the only key that the four brigades seen as a chance to open the door behind which lies the freedom. Or so they believe. Only history teaches us that behind that door, in fact, was concealed suicide. Destruction of what oppresses. Destruction of what makes you sick. Destruction of this that takes away freedom. But even Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde died, no one knew anything.
Thesis, antithesis, synthesis. Shy, the voice of the writer of the Manifesto faces from time to time between one frame to another. Now the soldier gestures Brigade, now in the eyes of Clara, now in his dreams. Set aside the reality and then recreate a new one. E Chiara abandoned dreams of a bench to freezing snow. Because, after all, Claire knows: after the cancellation is not any form of creativity.
Unless, by chance, you do not have the luck to see a newborn introduced in the house. An infant with Clare which only manages to relate, even if briefly, because his companions did not even realize its presence, too busy to detain the leader of Christian Democrats with the aim to kill him, this is what he wants the class struggle, to ensure that "the working class comes to direct all '.
Unless, by chance, you do not have the good fortune to meet a young writer, possibly in love: Enzo knows Chiara, a young man like many others, passionate about writing, poetry, fiction. And all that is beautiful. Enzo wrote a screenplay. It is titled "Good Morning, Night" as the poetry of Emily Dickinson. One in which the author refused by the day that he loved so much, say goodbye to midnight. Even Enzo greets her, Midnight. It does so by telling of a young RB that one day, and his team of guerrillas kidnapped Aldo Moro. But then if they repent. But perhaps it is too late. Or maybe not.
The young writer speaks of imagination, revolution, the real one. Talk about a real revolution is only possible through imagination, through creative thinking. Despises, Enzo, the Red Brigades. Not because I agree with the established power, not because it is on the side of conservatives, or worse, the Christian Democrats. Enzo is opposed because he manages to read the true madness that dwells in the minds of those who, day after day, they consume their lives behind unnecessary daily rituals sciapo seasoned flavor of the routine, without cultivating dreams and ambitions. Without images, without trying spice that could be the right seasoning of their existence. Different for everyone. Because different identities. Impetuous, numerous rebels are not aware of being, in reality, the real pawns in the hands of power-running puppet movements dictated by a puppeteer on a daily basis, decide how they should live. And how should they die.
"... ... There are people who do the same thing every day, then suddenly want to cut through the fields and change the world with a pistol. And do not realize that their lives, that of all days, is the absolute zero. I have read in a newspaper that a Red Brigades, including a murder and the other was reading Tex Willer and masturbating with porn ... pure dissociation.
Chiara is fascinated by Enzo. It no longer wants to kill Aldo Moro. It begins to imagine, to think, to dream. He dreams of being able to leave, she dreams of him sitting there, next to her, to read the book with letters from prisoners of European resistance to their loved ones. And rebels. Comrades Brigades, however, continue to want to kill. Not because we have it with him in particular, with its specific person. Hatred is not to Aldo Moro, but to the representative of a power that must be annihilated. Aldo Moro, as person does not exist. His words, his fear of death, the letters he sends to his loved ones. Aldo Moro no. Pure abstraction, that of the Red Brigades, which lost the relationship with his son, decides to convict him.
"This is a test for us that there must be limits humanitarian in the Revolutionary War. There is an action that can not be done, for the victory of the proletariat is also permissible to kill his mother. What today seems inconceivable, absurd, inhuman, it is actually a heroic act of supreme cancellation of our subjective reality: the best of humanity! (...) "
Ernesto, First, Mariano and Clare. All agree on the kidnapping and murder of Aldo Moro. Then, Chiara changes his mind: after meeting a young writer, after having cared for, by mistake, a newborn baby. Then also
Ernesto, after realizing that they can not be a RB means relations with their women. Or kill, or make love. The two realities can not coexist. Parallel, these lines are not intended to meets ever, even in an infinite point, because, you know Ernesto, RB mean giving up being a dream. And without dreams, his Giulia can not exist beside him. Poetry, not history, what the artist says writing the pages of his script and then translating them into images, accompanied, from time to time, by an enthralling soundtrack that transforms almost flawless performance of individual actors in real ballet, in which each, as expected, retains a role. Who is the victim, the executioner who, in 105 minutes theatrical representation of this film? Perhaps, instead of seeking an immediate response, you must stay the proceedings and watch: Aldo Moro is losing against the Red Brigades, the Brigades are losers to history. Anger
the true protagonist of the story. The real puppeteer who, once again, away from the eyes that light that allows you to look beyond. The rage that blinds, emptying them of all meaning signs suggests that reality and make them abstract. And then, a man is no longer a man, but a party, a power, and should be torn down. A boy is a boy, but a soldier who must fight. Clare is a woman, not a man and not a child. Clare is an organization, an armed group. But perhaps that is just starting to want to recognize women as the key that will save her from the madness of murder.
... On slaves to arms to arms! The air bubbles and salt
thunder and lightning flashes on
galeon fatale.Su slaves to arms to arms!
Pugnam with a strong arm!
swear swear justice! O
freedom or death!
swear swear justice! O
freedom or death!
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