On Finding and Losing Love: Flashback Elements and the Universality of Remembrance in Giuseppe Tornatore's "Cinema Paradiso"

 It feels strange to go back to old musings and writings I did years ago (in this case, over 25 years now).  But there's something far more nostalgic than observing one's bad writings from the past.  There's a quality of watching progress unveil right before one's eyes; looking at a rear-view mirror and seeing a younger version of one's self in the backseat, while presently at the wheel of new interests and a new life.  It is something I have decided to include in this blog for the year of 2017.

"Cinema Paradiso," written and directed by Giuseppe Tornatore, is a classic example of the flashback story telling technique. In the film, Tornatore utilizes literary parallels to convey a young man's coming of age. The protagonist, Salvatore DeVita, or affectionally known as "Toto," is a successful movie director in Rome. The movie begins when Toto is informed of the deal of his friend Alfredo, the old projectionist in Toto's hometown theater, and his inspiration for following a movie industry career. As Toto tries to sleep that night, the lights from the street lamps come into his room to illuminate the beginning of the sequences of flashbacks.

The audience is transported back to Toto's childhood in the village-town of Giancaldo. At the little town, the only source of entertainment is the small theater operated by the Catholic church.  Censorship is taken very seriously by the local priest, and all of the kissing scenes of the great classics are cut out of the films. Tornatore orchestrates this humorous element early in the film to emphasize the value of innocence in the isolated village.

Sound an music create an atmosphere of nostalgia, which is essentially what the film is all about; it is about longing for first loves and old friendships. All the sound in the film, as far as the first audience can tell, is synchronous, adding to the feeling of authentic film techniques. The music is a love theme capable of making a rock cry; however, it is not a sad melody but one that evokes the memory of first love.

The protagonist loses his first love at a young age but still holds on to her memory all of his life, never marrying or pursuing serious relationships. His memories of Elena, his first love, become the quintessential element holding together the series of flashbacks. Toto falls in love with Elena at first sight. However, Elena does not love him. The protagonist proposes then that he will stand by her window until she changes her mind; something which she eventually does. Here, director Tornatore is able to represent the elements of chivalry traditionally embedded in the European romantic theme of the film.

The young hero goes off to Rome to serve his military duty; he loses contact with Elena forever. Coming back to the town, he is first received by his old dog, just as Homer's Ulysses was received by his dog after his adventures abroad. He finds his old friend Alfredo bedridden.  Alfredo asks Toto to take him by the sea, and it is here, where surrounded by rusty anchors (symbolic of Toto's state of being), that he asks the young man to leave the town and never come back. With Alfredo's advice, Toto picks up and goes to Rome in search of fame and money, both of which he finds with success.  The flashbacks end as Toto reaches the funeral of his friend and is recognized by all of those left from the old days at Cinema Paradiso.  Flashbacks, sound, acting, and superb directing from Giuseppe Tornatore make Cinema Paradiso a story for all who still believe in growing up and falling in love deeply, even at the risk of losing and carrying the pain forever.   

 

Sir John Tavener: A Composer and a Man of Faith

At first this created a great deal of shock... then I thought of his wonderful contributions to the dialogue about God, faith and humanity's fate in the face of modern spiritual threats and was somewhat relieved.  You're in a much better place today, Sir John Tavener... God bless you.  I can't even begin to count the hours I've spent writing or reading while playing "The Protecting Veil" in the background.

Shostakovich and Solzhenitsyn: Laughing at Authority

The U.S.S.R. no longer exists. The world (or at least the democratic capitalist governments) thought that the influence of Mother Russia as a Superpower had ended permanently with Mikhail Gorbachev exiting in shame, and Boris Yeltsin dancing on top of a Russian tank to the delight of the Muscovite masses. The idealist/propagandists world looked at this as a miracle--the more realistic groups knew enough to know that Perestroika and Glasnost had done their work, little by little, in breaking the mold of Soviet rule. But before the so-called "Cold War" was over, there were men and women risking their lives, daring (without an open dare) against a system they thought unfair. Most of these valiant individuals were artists.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn was both a visionary and a traitor after the publication of "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich," and "The Gulag Archipelago." That was, of course, after Solzhenitsyn was sentenced to hard labor for anti-Stalinist comments around the same time he was being decorated for his service in World War II. From where, hence, comes the contradiction? His prose seemed to praise the system within a veil of criticism. Not even the Union of Writers (a puppet of the party) was able to keep up with the hidden meanings of his work. The Union knew, of course, that Solzhenitsyn was playing with fire, but could do little to control the output of this driven artist. Not even the KGB could stop the writing power of this man, and, some time after that, Solzhenitsyn won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1970. Solzhenitsyn came under attack, all the while writing, hiding, writing some more. The KGB managed to confiscate some of his works (he had to recreate "The First Circle" entirely from memory). All the way up to 1974, Solzhenitsyn continued to write, hiding and existing in a world of shadows, but writing nonetheless. Shortly thereafter he was forced into exile and spent the better part of his advanced age in Vermont. (Incidentally, Mstilav Rostropovich was shortly after sent into exile for having sheltered and supported Solzhenitsyn). In 2005, Solzhenitsyn returned to a post-Soviet Russia for the first time, but he found out (the hard way) that the young nation was not going to be delivered by an author--the people needed jobs and the hope for a better future. Solzhenitsyn (might have) died of a broken heart.

Dmitri Shostakovitch was considered a sell-out by his contemporaries when, in 1960, he joined the Communist party. What his contemporaries failed to realize (as in Solzhenitsyn) was the hidden messages in his musical compositions. For example, the second movement of the Symphony No. 5 presents a theme that can only be compared to the music of a puppet show. The first movement sets the tone to a glorification of the U.S.S.R., the vast, sweeping and militant themes can be seen as a set up of sorts. Here, Breshnev and all the rest in the Politburo nodded and approved of his seemingly Soviet-exalting pieces, and all the while Shostakovitch laughing under his breath. There are many other examples of Shostakovitch's work that fall under the category of subversive; so much so that it is nearly impossible to present in any categorized manner. As a result, I selected the piece I thought best represented his rebellion.

The Reason for my Disappearance

Here's a picture of the concert Saturday night. This is the dress rehearsal. The program was called "Ordo Superman" and included pieces by Stockhausen, Hildegard, Olivera, among others. I didn't read anything for the better part of the week. We had rehearsals Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday was the concert. So, I am back now, still haven't read a thing but looking forward to starting again. I decided that reading two books at the same time is not for me. As a result, I will only be reading "Writers on Writing" this week. Photo credit: Miki Satake.