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Beppe Caschetto and Rai Cinema present
an IBC Movie production in collaboration with Avventurosa
with the support of Regione Emilia-Romagna
with the support of Regione Lazio
Regional Fund for Cinema and Audiovisuals
in collaboration with
a film by Pietro Marcello
FOR LUCIO
Dear Tobia,
you were with Lucio for many years.
Were you always his manager?
No, I began in 1966
when he came into the restaurant Cesari.
And said to me, "Tobia, I need to talk to you
because I need a manager.
Because I'm not happy with the one I have..."
I said, "I've never been a manager".
"I trust you."
And then he said...
He left.
He was wearing a bike helmet.
I hadn't even recognized him.
Then he came back and said,
"Tobia, I forgot to tell you something.
I'm broke".
My first concert was in Gallipoli.
I remember that
at the entrance it said,
"man", and a price "woman", another price.
There were lots of people dancing
so I went to get the money.
Panic.
I went to this guy,
one of the organizers, and told him,
"Listen. Let's count the money".
"I have no money."
"But the venue is full.
How can you say that?
You signed a contract,
I set off from Bologna,
for you to tell me,
'Good morning'? I don't think so.
We need to fix that."
So, what did I do?
I quickly stole his and his friend's Rolexes.
Both their watches.
And then I told him,
"Tomorrow I'll be at Hotel Plaza in Taranto."
Another Carnival party.
"If you bring the money,
I'll give back the Rolexes. Otherwise, I'll keep them."
I'm happy to have had this night as my debut with Lucio.
And so she was left alone in the room
The room overlooking the port
Her only clothes what she had on
And the days shorter and shorter
And though she didn't know his name
Or what country he was from
She awaited me like a gift of love From that first month on
Lucio told me to go to his house.
I rang the bell and his mother opened the door.
Lucio hadn't arrived yet,
or wasn't there, I don't remember anymore.
His mother asked me, "So you're Tobia, the manager?
Of what? My son's manager?
Manager of what?
He must find a job, and he must study.
He needs to stop acting like a clown. You understand?"
As the old adage says, 'There is only one mother'.
It's true.
I remember that time with great delight.
- What is happening? - It's a mother with a problem.
- A problem? - Her son has a beard.
I'm so sorry. Do you want me to make it disappear?
- I wish. - You'd be happy?
- The happiest. - Only the beard?
- Does he have long hair, too? - He does.
Long hair, too!
Maybe you need a barber rather than a magician.
I'd love that.
Look, we have a fantastic singer we'll soon introduce,
who has a beard and long hair and yet, he's liked by many.
- What's your name, madam? - Dalla.
Dalla? But...
- Our singer is Dalla, too. - So strange.
- Where are you from? - Bologna.
He's from Bologna, too! Where do you live?
Does he have a beard?
- He does. - Then, it's him.
It's him!
Of course!
Lucio Dalla, here he is!
Come here, Lucio.
You don't want your son to have a beard?
But it's so nice.
She was the first who gave a beard to me.
Oh, it was you?
You could act in a film based on the Bible.
Or on the Risorgimento.
- He vaguely resembles... who? - Garibaldi.
Anyone from the Risorgimento era.
He sings well, though, madam.
- I like it. - You do?
That's bad...
You must be happy, right?
- Is that good for you? - Very good.
Alright, do you want to dedicate a nice song to her?
It's not exactly fitting. It's called "When I was a soldier".
Your mother is not exactly a soldier.
It fits well with today's theme: silence.
Madam, you will be escorted...
Lucio was called by Zecchino d'Oro
to sing a song.
And he brought his mother.
He always used to invite his mother,
but she'd never go because,
and I think she was right,
she'd say, "I don't want to embarrass him while he's working.
There will be other occasions".
And that was an occasion
because it wasn't a concert, just one song.
That was the first time I saw Lucio with his mother
at the Antoniano.
And I remember a detail.
She slipped.
It was also shown on TV.
And then, the camera panned away and she was helped up.
Everything went well.
It was a lovely night.
His mother would make him the clothes
and the purses he used.
She'd make a lot of things,
and, to Lucio, she was very important. Family first.
His father died when he was six.
All his affection went to his mother.
His mother would always stand by him even though...
initially, she changed her mind later on,
initially she was like any other mother at that time.
They were obsessed with finding a stable job for their children.
But that wasn't a stable job.
The director of this program
decided to compare some of the candidates
who came for the audition,
and who weren't always well-prepared,
with personalities who have had a great success
which is still current and valid.
One of them is Lucio Dalla.
Hello.
I'm very glad to have you as our guest.
Because you're one of the few people
with a very solid musical background.
You have a top-notch jazz background.
Yes, I started out as a clarinet player.
Initially as an amateur and then as a professional.
Where did you use to play?
My first band was based in Bologna,
it was called the Reno Jazz Gang.
Then, I moved to Rome
and played with the Second Roman New Orleans for two years,
as a clarinettist.
I didn't sing back then. It wasn't in my plans.
I see. How come you left the jazz scene?
A big reason was that it wasn't economically viable.
I literally needed to eat.
I was 17 or 18 in a city that wasn't my hometown.
I would often starve and sleep on the streets.
I think I was a predecessor of the hippie culture
because I had no place to sleep.
But the main reason
was that I had already noticed, and lately even more so,
that there was a large gap between the music I used to make
and the recipient of my music: the audience.
After all, jazz is a biologically unknown language.
It's a type of music that we can only perceive intellectually.
We can love it, but we can't understand it.
- We can't make it ours. - We can't transfer it.
Jazz is the technical background
that I use to express myself
and make music that is not underground
and that deals with issues that are Mediterranean,
- almost folkloric. - I see.
Day after day
Sun after sun
I've never reckoned
How far I've walked
When I look around
I don't realize
Whether I'm in Rome
Or a foreigner, I am here
I watch the river and the city
I watch the water, and watch within me
Everything is rushing forward
but where does it go?
The river, the ocean, then I don't know
Roads and alleys, then I don't know
One always leaves but never arrives
Never
I followed a shadow
But it was my own
Like a challenge
It was always ahead of me
On the long journey
The faces I saw
I now realize
All look like me
Lucio always did what he felt like doing.
And I must say, he was right.
Because when I started
there were many people who didn't believe in him.
Many would say, "What do you think you're doing,
following Lucio and all that..."
And yet...
Tobia won.
Lucio tried everything.
He wanted to do everything.
And this is good.
We all endured poverty,
but he would ease that for everyone.
Even when he was broke.
What do you want from life?
Honestly, I don't know yet.
I mean, I do, but it's hard to explain.
I want many things. I want tranquillity.
I want to live problem-free.
I want to get along with everyone
but at the same time, I don't want all those things.
How can you achieve all this?
Surely, not by living how I'm living now.
With some effort, I think.
Is your job hindering the fulfilment of your dreams?
Yes, absolutely.
But it also gives me great things,
like contact with people which is the best part.
Being able to talk to a stranger,
someone who comes to me and asks, "How are you?"
to initiate a conversation, it's important to me.
If you weren't a singer, what would you be?
A house painter.
Why?
Just 'cause. Colours fascinate me.
White, in particular.
With which famous personality would you switch lives?
With no one.
Because...
There's no one...
I think what disturbs me is that there are people
who follow celebrities...
I'd rather swap my life with...
With you, for instance.
Who is Lucio Dalla?
I am.
He was one of the few artists who also knew how to live life.
It's such a peculiar thing.
He knew everything.
If I'd mention anything, he'd already know about it.
And then he'd let you finish,
to make you feel like you were sharing the big news.
But he already knew everything.
It was impressive.
He was so talented.
At that time...
pretty faces were predominant in the music industry.
Morandi, Mal.
Lucio, on the other hand, debuted
when singer-songwriters were big.
When that generation
stopped caring about the singers' handsomeness,
or the catchy songs.
But what the singers said, their words.
Since we're many, this evening,
I'd like to do something that seems like the right thing to do.
Let's sing together.
Let's sing together
a song that is quite easy, it's called "Ithaca".
I'm going to explain it to you.
You need to relate, not to Ulysses,
the hero that we study in school,
but you need to relate to his sailors.
Who, for once, are the heroes and protagonists.
They oppose Ulysses, almost politically.
Ulysses is seen as a thief, a swindler.
They tell him, "You travel the world,
find princesses in every port.
But there's nothing for us.
You sleep in beds, we never sleep.
Your son is the king's son and won't starve if you die.
If we die, as we always do, killed by arrows, drowned,
or transformed into pigs,
our children will starve to death. So, stop acting like a tourist,
and take us home.
This is the meaning of this collective song.
Captain, your noble destiny
Radiates from your eyes
But you never think of the sailor
Who has neither bread nor wine
Captain, you have always found
Damsels in every port
Yet you never consider the man at the oars
Whose wife thinks he's lost at sea
Ithaca Ithaca Ithaca
That is my only home
Ithaca Ithaca Ithaca
I want to go back home
From the sea
I would have never believed, if I had thought about it,
that I'd end up with someone like Lucio.
You know, he was...
I saw the legend in him,
when he was nobody.
With all the hardship he endured,
he was an exceptional man because he was self-made.
We interrupt this broadcast
To announce that
On this night of calm
And peace and love
The body of a man has been discovered
Dead
A truly
Unusual
Exceptional thing because
It had been twenty years
In our pleasant world
Ours
Since a man had died
Without his body being found
Our teams
Of TV reporters
Fanned out
In a part of the region of Piemonte
At the foot of the mountain, naturally
They interviewed
The farmer
The shepherd
The labourer...
In short
The man who found the body
Please excuse in advance
How emotional he is
This freak event has really rattled the man
However
Our reporter
Whom we thank for having... cut short
His holiday
His Christmas with the family
Pumpkin pie still on his fork, he rushed here
To interview him
"The body was hidden by branches covered by stones, covered in dirt"
"It was hidden by branches covered by stones, covered in dirt"
"The eyes!"
The eyes
I didn't see the eyes
They were hidden by branches
They were black with dirt They were green like the forest
His hair
No, I couldn't see his hair
His hair was red with blood
Covered in mud and dust
Like feathers from plucked birds
The mouth
I couldn't see the mouth
It was filled with dirt
And covered with branches and stones
And the lip was split. No
The mouth was silent
Lucio had a dear friend whom, sadly,
I need to mention.
He was always with Renzo Cremonini.
A very delightful person.
Crucial in Lucio's life.
He was his producer, along with others.
You know how it is in the music world.
One makes a song and becomes producer of that song.
I must say something very important about Cremonini.
I don't know if many people know this.
He's the one who introduced Roversi to Lucio.
If the mountains were all sowed with grain
If packs of horses returned to the plains
Flying through the flowers and the grasses
As I told my tales of love I would still be just twenty
As the geese fly on
But the snow is falling on my hands
And my horse is far away by now
Night and fog are in its eyes
My weapon lies across my knees
My bow and arrow unused
As the geese fly on
Where the river meets the sea
The water is a race of light
Flood me with a single smile
If the mountains are all forest
And the streets whipped by tempests I will stop my flight
I can tell the tale of my past life
And will be able to wait for you
As the geese fly on
Roversi wasn't a socialite.
He'd stay home and would send the lyrics.
I think he didn't want to be involved in the music industry.
He was...
I can describe him like the type...
His life was his brain. I've always said that.
He had everything in there.
He'd articulate beautifully.
As long as you didn't talk about money to him.
You'd suggest some lyrics to him,
"This song here, what if we wrote lyrics everyone can understand?
You know, we could..."
Ambiguity in lyrics?
Roversi wouldn't fall for that.
You'd ask him for some lyrics, he'd write them,
and that was that.
Then it was up to you, through music,
to turn it into a masterpiece.
He's left a strong impression on me.
However,
we weren't very close.
Being close to Roversi wasn't easy
because he was a taciturn man,
he kept to himself, he didn't want to disturb anyone.
I would often see him
in one of Via Marconi's side streets in Bologna,
waiting for the bus.
I'd stop and ask him,
"Roberto, are you going anywhere? Do you want me to drive you?"
He would always turn me down.
He was always with his wife.
He was a person...
Just talking about him now, I feel like...
There are no longer
any men like him.
Roberto Roversi, you were born in Bologna in 1923.
Compared to the city of your childhood,
what has changed in present-day Bologna?
Surely many things, but what do you think
is the most striking change?
The Bologna of my childhood
was a rural town,
at the head of a rural culture and society.
Now, this society has gone.
It was rapidly destroyed
in a terrifying cultural genocide in the 1950s,
and it hasn't been replaced
with anything equally whole and stimulating.
The Bologna of my childhood
had sounds, smells, noises typical of the countryside.
There were scents. You could track the business seasons
through the scents in the air.
The hemp season,
the grape harvest,
the time when the people
would store the castellata,
which was an established amount of grapes, in the cellar
stored in a special barrel that was carried by oxen
from the countryside to the city.
Now, that bond
with the territory, with the smells, is gone.
Bologna has become a regular, post-industrial city.
Or better, a downright industrial city of our times.
Tobia, who was Roversi for Lucio?
Roversi was everything.
Thanks to his collaboration with Roversi,
Lucio learned to write songs.
Dear Roberto, it's 4 am and I've finished the album.
You taught me everything:
to be respectful and strong at the same time.
Roversi was a fine intellectual.
He was incorruptible.
He had his beliefs.
Right or wrong, it's not up to me to judge.
I admired him for this.
For his positions.
And because he didn't do things for money.
The Mille Miglia
was the greatest open-road race of all times.
It took place in Italy between 1927 and 1957.
The Mille Miglia was born to demonstrate the legitimacy of cars.
It became the major advertising medium
in a transformation process
that rapidly changed the country's reality.
Rural Italy was painfully losing its social and cultural identity.
The last cars left
Before the glow of dawn
The air full of dust and burning rubber from the tires
All of Italy is awake
In Bologna, Arcangeli is in the lead
In Rome, it's Nuvolari
Arcangeli has engine problems
And behind the barriers the crowd goes wild
The Alfas are in first and second place in Rome.
In Terni they refuel
Varzi leaves Nuvola in second place
The dust is so thick in the air
You can barely make out the ferocious race
Over Radicofani it looks like lightning
In the halls of an ancient castle
Three hundred curves and death seems near
With the stench of fuel and burning tires
Clear the way.
On the second pass of the road to Bologna
Varzi's Alfa is still ahead
But fierce Nuvolari is gunning behind him
Flashing his lights to get out of his way
Now Nuvola is savoring his win
With dazzling Varzi number two
Arcangeli and Campari both withdrew
All champions famous the world over
In Rome, the crowd awaits
while the battle for victory is about to start.
That's Ingrid Bergman waiting for Rossellini.
It was an epic race
The Mille Miglia of 1947
Over lush green Umbria
Gesu's ribcage filthy from love
It was the roughest
Most heart-pounding ever
Part symphony, part crucifixion
A wild adventure in rain and fear
A real massacre, an ancient rite
Houses and ruins, a wild tempest
Nuvolari, you're a black cloud
In a clear sky
Destroyer of the spring
As you swing your hammer challenging fate
But if it's death you are after
It's not you who will die
Flying man of Mantova
White hot from the speed
Driving a Cisitalia 1100
Not caring if he lives or dies
You're a little Buster Keaton racing for victory
Trees fell like dominoes as the cars flew by
All Italy's blood pressure through the roof
As the champions entered the straightaway
Like a flash of lightning too fast to see
Nuvolari, you are a white cloud now
Destroyer of the spring in the pristine sky
Openly defying fate
But if it's death you're after
It's not you who will die
In an open car
Like a harpooned dolphin
The steering wheel worn through the veneer
He flies through Bologna
Like a silent gale
The crowd holds its breath
Nuvolari and Carena finish second in Brescia
Two minutes behind Biondetti who takes first
Dirty as a dog
Speeding barefaced
Like an arrow through the Po Valley
Tobia, what do you miss most about Lucio?
Everything.
I miss the person I shared
forty-six years of my life with.
I had great fun.
Through him, I received, maybe
more than I deserved.
That's life.
Today, dear Stefano, is a good day for me.
Because rarely, in our lives,
you and I have shared a meal together.
- Never just the two of us. - Never just the two of us.
I came here
because you're the only one who can remember Lucio's past
even better than I can.
And this makes me very happy.
Because I've never said a thing about "the spider".
- No, it's not that. - Who nicknamed him "Spider"?
- I did. - Why?
But he renamed me "Bonkers".
- I remember. - Because, for Lucio,
if you do ordinary things, you're crazy.
And so he called me "Bonkers".
- Why did you call him "Spider"? - And I said,
"You're a spider".
Why?
Because he was small and hairy.
Did you find him handsome?
Well, that's not for me to say.
- He was normal. - What do you mean "normal"?
- Thank you. - Enjoy.
A nice chat and some pasta.
What do you mean "normal"? Was he?
You know, he was beautiful as a kid.
When he was 7 or 8, he was so cute.
He'd play in musicals,
- he'd sing. - At La Ribalta.
He'd sing and had all the girls.
He'd dress up like a bullfighter.
I was younger, and my mother would take me there.
When I was a child, I was so jealous of his costumes.
He'd sing with the girls.
Then he got uglier over time.
So much so that his mother, Iole
would say, "Lucio,
"Lucio, I'll give you 500 liras if you leave. You're too ugly".
- No! - That's what she'd say.
The thing is, Stefano, we could say that
puberty betrayed him.
That's what.
That's true.
To me, Lucio was...
He wasn't ugly, he was interesting.
He got posher over time.
Initially, he was unstylish.
Wearing a beret.
Then, there followed a period when he was bald and didn't care.
One day I saw him with hair, and I thought it was fake,
I said, "Did you buy it at the shop?".
He said, "What? I went to Cesare Ragazzi.
It cost a fortune!"
The latest years, he got even posher wearing a waistcoat.
All dressed up.
- Yes. - He progressively...
He was...
However...
This is part of life.
One makes choices.
And...
He was a little posh.
Tobia...
you're making me laugh because you're trying to act wise.
What I've learned,
in terms of life experience, from my youth with Lucio
is to pay attention to all the world's anomalies.
From things to people.
How can I put it...
A love for life in all its forms, which is rare.
Without any prejudice or initial inhibition.
He would...
How can I put it... He'd let life flood him.
And what might look like a passive approach
paradoxically, turned into the ability to give back
through his songs and the way he lived life...
- Right. - Randomly.
Without making plans.
Somehow, Lucio was always sucked into things.
But...
After all...
Lucio was trashy.
He just didn't know.
He didn't know he was trashy.
He was fascinated
by certain people.
- And knowing Lucio... - It's what I'm saying.
- He was easily seduced. - It was shocking.
Lucio was seduced, and then became a seducer
but, initially, he was seduced by life and by people.
And he wouldn't rank them. There was no hierarchy.
The last of the lowlifes would attract him
even more than the first of the most fortunate.
However, he'd hardly hang out with them.
- He'd hardly hang out with them. - With whom?
With those people.
The lowlifes?
Well, I don't know how to call them.
He truly had a passion for the odd ones, the nut jobs.
For unique individuals...
For you, too. You're not normal, you know.
Is it true you're the son of artists?
No, it's not. Absolutely not.
My mother was a seamstress.
My father managed a skeet shooting facility
and traded oil.
He was an artist as a shooter
and my mother as a seamstress.
Is it true you were a child prodigy?
This is true. I was a child prodigy.
When I was 3, I used to sing and dance.
I'd do magic tricks.
And I would play the part of a child prodigy.
When I was 15, I quit for obvious reasons
I was no longer a child nor a prodigy.
What memories do you have of your debut?
My memories are pleasant because
there was a delicious taste of failure.
I had fun.
You were, and are, my friend. You remember.
I was the least played artist, the most hated.
The least understood.
Assuming there was anything to understand which there wasn't.
My physique was different from everybody else.
I had long hair and was much bigger.
I was much shorter.
Last year I even got taller.
I was completely different.
Of those years, what sticks to me
is the abyss between me and the people.
Lots of doors were shut in my face.
But I'd enter from the chimneys, from the TVs,
and they couldn't help but see me and listen to me.
It was like committing emotional violence.
I love my job.
I loved it and I still do, for more serious reasons,
or equally serious,
but, back then, I did it because I felt rejected.
The sun rises over the mountains
And I have reached Milano
City of plenty and miracles of the Madonna
The sun sets over the mountains
I barely have the strength to look at my own hands
The sun rises over the mountains
I'm being hunted in the countryside
The sun sinks into the water
If only a saint would help me
I end up thrown into a grotto
The sun rises over the mountains
Stabbed in the chest I'm left to die
Poor worker, poor shepherd, poor farmer
The sun rises over the mountains
And I am dead and buried
The sun rises over the mountains
Another man has already taken my job
His meeting with Roversi was a reciprocal epiphany.
Lucio fell in love with Roversi, not romantically,
and Roversi with Lucio,
because he felt that instant creative vitality in him.
It was really a sort of symbiosis between an intellectual writer
and a truly talented person.
If you think that Lucio couldn't read the music.
He played jazz without knowing the music.
He rented a piano
and, in a week, he could play anything in C.
On the other hand, he found the shape of the words
for his music.
And that was a period...
They weren't very successful at that time, Lucio and Roversi.
They were successful in theatres.
He had struggled to get signed by RCA.
Roversi never followed Lucio in his concerts.
No.
It was really a gift without expecting anything in return.
It wasn't an exchange.
It was a fusion of talents.
From afar.
That too.
It is eight in the evening
When the first red flag appears
Over the walls of the FIAT plant
There's a new September in the old September
And it falls apart and takes all life with it
The ancient pain that won't go away
In Genoa, Milan, and Turin a key opens destiny
It is nine in the evening
When a second red flag appears
Over the walls of the FIAT plant
The people have flooded the streets
They don't want to wait
The people are fed up
They don't feel like talking
The old rage has broken open the day
And grows terrible and ordered
It is ten in the evening
When a fourth red flag appears
Above the walls of the FIAT plant
- Were you disoriented? - I was.
Initially, I was. I wanted to cry.
All this heavy machinery stacked up.
And that deafening noise.
During my first days here,
in such a big environment, I felt quite uneasy.
However...
Actually, I thought about leaving FIAT.
- And you? - I had worked in a very small industry
with only three workers.
I came from the countryside,
and arriving in this big environment
made me feel uneasy.
However, in a short time,
thanks to my colleagues' little pranks,
pulling pranks was common practice,
we called them 'army pranks',
and, somehow, I adjusted to the environment.
Was it worse than you had thought?
Neither better nor worse.
Just different.
Was there a more serious,
sweeter, more dignified,
more beautiful person than that man?
I was very charmed by Roversi.
Because he was an honest man.
And that's rare.
Everything he'd say, whether you liked it or not,
was a form of honesty and truth.
He had skills in writing and thinking.
He followed his own ethics in thinking.
He had his style.
What is wonderful about Roversi is his style.
Lucio didn't have a soul,
didn't have style.
He'd become everyone else's soul.
He'd possess them.
He was a sort of gentle bird of prey.
I said, the contract had been finalized on the 30th.
The day when,
having received the green light,
I could relay the news to the public.
In fact,
I had signed the contract on the 24th,
but until the 30th,
I was not authorized to consider the deal finalized,
because I hadn't yet received from Tripoli the message
relaying the green light from the Libyan government.
Good morning, thank you, Mr. Agnelli
I am from the Manchester Guardian
I won't waste your time
This is my first question
How do you square this circle?
You say Taylorism is obsolete
But then vote Mirafiori
And once again fill the trains with immigrants
It's not a flock of sparrows you're unleashing
But an exodus from the poor South
Leaping at the chance to decentralize production
Very well, Mr. Agnelli
Your English is impeccable
I've duly noted your remarks
Through my clenched teeth
It's obvious that Agnelli... let me finish.
Agnelli made a deal, economically and politically,
and so did Gaddafi.
But I don't want to talk about Gaddafi.
The deal was made with his capital in mind,
within FIAT's monopoly.
But it doesn't go beyond his monopoly.
The working class won't benefit from it at all.
Agrobusiness
Alimont, down five or fifty. Whoa!
Buton, good God, down by ten Bon. Ferraresi
Motta, Eridania, Zuccheri Roma and forty five others
Cement sector: Eternit, Italcementi, Unicem
Down ninety, up thirty, up eleven more
Real estate: Condotte d'Acque, up by nine
Le Gilardini, seventy nine Risanamento, up by thirty
Coge, Coge, Coge, eighteen
Certosa sixty Beni Stabili up twenty, up twenty
Breaking news
For 48 hours,
a man who lost his mind due to the stock market crash,
terrorized the Milan Stock Exchange.
His relentless sequence of crazed buying and selling
has caused three coups in Central America,
the suicide of a high ranking Japanese official,
and the merging of six out of the Seven Sisters
in a new cloistered order.
Tobia, do you remember the times when Lucio was the happiest?
I would see Lucio's happiness when he'd feel
fulfilled through his albums.
When he was convinced, and no one else,
that he'd made a masterpiece,
that's when he was very happy.
How would he show happiness?
He'd hang out with his friends,
laughing and joking.
He would just be himself.
And you know
that Lucio was very likeable, when he wanted to.
- And quite a lot. - Yeah.
- Besides... - One more thing I remember
is that as he got richer,
he'd take up more space.
He'd buy real estate.
He'd expand his own house.
He expanded from Via D'Azeglio to Piazza Dei Celestini,
buying parts of apartments. Must have been seven apartments.
He bought a house on Mount Etna.
- Two houses on Tremiti Islands. - Yes.
That he'd reach with his boat named 'Phlegm'
after his love for gross stuff, for foul smells,
for disgusting stuff,
for excreted stuff.
In fact, his intercom would show the name Domenico Sputo, as in spit.
He was a world champion in spitting.
He'd do crazy stuff.
Once, we went to Cantù for a basketball game.
Marzorati, captain of the Italian national team,
had Lucio try three 3-pointers during the break.
Lucio shot them like this. He used to play basketball as a kid.
He was nicknamed "Tombolino". He sucked.
- He'd shoot with two hands. - Yes.
- It was a horrible sight. - But he'd always score.
In front of 10,000 people in Cantù
he shot three 3-pointers.
He was like...
Let's put it this way,
let's say a word about Lucio: always surprising.
He'd never leave you...
He'd never meet your expectations.
That's the surprise.
He'd blow your expectations.
You'd expect something, and he'd do something else.
He was unpredictable. He'd change all the time.
That was his luck.
Artistically, physically, and personally.
You go out early in the morning
Your head racing with thoughts
Dodge the traffic and the newspapers
Then rush back home, after all today's the same as yesterday
No happiness
Not even on airplanes or trains
Or on a spot lit stage
You bow to the crowd up front clapping their hands and cheering
No happiness
Together in bed but there's no peace
Nothing left you can think up
Forced even to do yourself harm
Just so you can forgive with sweetness
And go on
Happy
Pretend that all across the world
There are people who share the same problems
Organize a nightly hang
For people who are crazy and not that smart
Pretend that the whole point of this race
Is to make it healthy to the grand finale
While Andrea is already ready
With a club and his jaws like a shark's
Asking you to pay up
For the meals served and barely eaten
For sleep interrupted, for being forced to steal
For having been killed
Fifteen times in an alley
For fifteen years each Christmas eve
For your latest album, you wrote the lyrics, too.
And they're quite good.
Why didn't you do that before?
I didn't because I preferred the lyrics Roversi wrote for me.
This time, I wrote my lyrics,
especially because, not only I felt the need
to say what I felt inside,
but also to find an even deeper reason
to continue doing this job
that was beginning to bore me last year.
Doing something new helped find meaning again.
She gets off the tram and approaches, dancing a little Mambo
She feels clever and cute, says I won't be staying with you longo
My heart is shipwrecked but I'm a man and say, You're free to go
Take your smile with you and leave me to ease my blues
Take away the tatters, your hips, and that Mambo face
And your fake happiness
That can force a smile from even your last sob
You, yes you
It's you who never feels afraid
I want to come back and find you a little surer
My Mambo queen
I think I'd rather stay shipwrecked
Than have you at my side again
You
How did Lucio compose his songs? I remember he had a notepad.
When he was around town, or home, he'd start writing.
Music would come later...
- True. - Most of the time.
When he'd ask me if I liked them or not,
it was nice debating about it.
I have no creativity at all,
so, I represented the audience's inertia,
regardless of his trust in my judgement.
When you find someone so talented,
that talent is a little special.
It's not just intelligence or sensitivity.
It's the ability to pass that sensitivity and intelligence onto others.
Lucio wrote beautifully.
There are no two songs alike.
They evoked extraordinary images, rarely ordinary.
Somehow,
Lucio had a stronger creative instinct than a propensity for reflection,
because he'd use reflection to his advantage. He was cunning.
You know him, he'd never give in,
he always had to have the final say.
- He'd listen to you, though. - Alright, let's say...
He'd listen to you because... Listen.
It wasn't because you were friends,
but because he trusted you. It's different.
I met Lucio when I was six.
You know, you can't lie to your brother from another mother.
In fact, when he'd lie to my face,
he knew all too well that I knew it was a lie,
but I'd pretend it was all right.
And so would he, while telling it. He knew he was lying,
but he would pretend he wasn't.
He'd pretend I believed the lie.
What do you look for in your personal relationships?
In my relationships with others I look for...
for everything. Or, at least, I look for a lot of things.
At times, maybe childishly, I try to find myself in others.
It's quite scary because I often look for people like me
and this kills me.
I find myself in what is completely different from me.
If I found someone completely different from me,
an individual who's diametrically opposite to me
in every sense, also physically, then I'd be attracted to them.
Why do you lie?
What?!
For more than a hundred years
At the Luna park
Sonny Boy arrives
With the painted horses and the Fortune Teller
With her metal teeth
Black eyes
Scanning the mysteries of the sky
He was born in Ferrara, no, he was found on a wall
He's full of signs, his muscles ripple beneath his skin
Sonny Boy has drawn a map of the stars on his arms
And hunts each night on his horse for lost souls
I also asked for help many times as a little boy
How many times have I been lost
How many times did I fall and cry
Watching the stars I tried to understand
How to live in the grown-up world But not be afraid, afraid of dying
Like a gypsy sitting on a wall
Eyes trained on the future
Have you ever stolen from Lucio?
- Me? - Yes.
If that's what you're implying...
What does that mean?
I said, have you ever stolen money?
In order to steal from Lucio, you had to be an early bird.
You know him well, it wasn't easy.
He was the only artist who was aware of everything.
- He knew everything about everyone. - He was a sleuth.
Not with me. He'd rip my invoices.
For an artist, and I must say
there aren't many like that,
as many have been misguided,
either due to ignorance or dishonesty.
What about him?
Not him.
Lucio knew everything.
You know, all of Lucio's and your friends
say that Lucio was luckier to have you than you were to have him.
It's not for me to say, but I'm glad you said that.
When I was asked to work for Lucio,
thanks to you who acted as my sponsor,
I can say that the many years I spent with Lucio were happy ones.
So, Lucio believed in you
- and you believed in Lucio. - Yes.
What do you believe in?
I believe in mankind.
In the possibility of being completely...
I believe in love.
In absolute love.
I believe in the possibility of redeeming oneself.
I believe no one should be judged.
Basically because I'm a Christian, and I believe in God.
Despite its many contradictions.
Are you an optimist?
I am a believer.
A believer can also be a pessimist.
But I'm not a pessimist.
I'd never sing of a world without disquietude.
Dance Dance Ballerino, all night long and in the morning
Don't stop dancing
On a table set between two mountains,
Dance on the waves of the ocean, I'll come watch you
Grab the sky with your hands
And fly higher than the airplanes
Never stop
Few years remain, or maybe days
They're all stopping in a hurry one by one
Not one will ever come back
Dance, don't be afraid the night is dark and cold
Don't think of the pistol that you're aiming
Dance in the light of a thousand cigarettes and the moon
That shines on you in the day
Dance the mystery
Of this world that burns up all that was true yesterday
Tell me I'm right, it won't be true tomorrow
Stop the Palermo-Frankfurt train with your bare hands
The sight of a boy at the window for some reason moves me
Green eyes that look like glass
Run stop that train and make it turn around
They're loaded, let them through.
Good gracious.
Let them through.
Mister President.
- Mister President, maybe... - They're loaded.
Let them through.
Bologna. Central Station. August 2nd, 1980. 10:25 am.
A bomb in a suitcase goes off killing 85 people and injuring 200.
It's the worst terrorist attack in Italian history after World War II.
We resume the conversation,
paying our debt to Lucio Dalla.
It's alright, I can collect it next year.
I wanted to ask, since I'm interested in the song...
The song...
The discourse on the Euromissiles.
Craxi, you're saying
that Europe has always been open to the Soviet Union
in terms of financial credit
as well as in terms of dialogue.
So, why is it that the Soviets
are preparing such sophisticated offensive or defensive systems?
I said it in one of my songs,
Russians and Americans are exactly the same.
I believe there's something greater at stake
that is harder to analyse.
Especially when it comes to the people.
How can the people
in Sicily, or in Emilia-Romagna, or in Lombardy
say 'yes' or 'no' to the installation of missiles?
"Are those missiles against us or someone else?"
We had initially mentioned the opportunity to rebuild relationships
within the Italian Left...
so as to find a common ground...
I'm not a politician. I'm an entertainer who believes...
Europe is already scattered with missiles.
It won't allow for the political canalization of dissent...
an extended lecture from philosopher Luporini...
our 'no' to the Euromissiles
includes those from the East and from the West.
Your heart beats slower, slowly slowly
Ciao, how are you
I feel your heart now
I've never seen your eyes so beautiful
But don't turn away now I still want to watch you
Don't turn your head
Where are your hands
Let's wait 'til it's light again
'Til we hear a voice
Let's wait without fear
For tomorrow
It seems to me, Lucio is more loved now that he's dead
than when he was alive. Let's be honest.
It's quite strange.
Such a... fervent admiration for Lucio
after years of of being marginalized.
But it's also legitimate because...
Maybe I'm overreaching,
but if Lucio's songs will be read 50 years from now,
it's because they still work.
And it's true that
there's hardly anyone I know, and who met Lucio,
who wasn't fascinated by him.
People from the music industry,
as well as the general public. He had such a strong impact.
He never stayed the same, so to speak.
He was like a perpetual firework.
We miss him, but...
Soon after Lucio's death,
you know we've never said a word about Lucio,
we're doing it now, exceptionally.
Morandi said he was expecting Lucio to come back from South America
saying, "I was kidding, guys, I'm not dead".
Sure enough, among us friends
we speak of Lucio in the present tense.
We can't...
Curiously, his presence goes beyond time, somehow.
It's not just that the songs stay, the body leaves.
His body is still here, too.
His voice.
His transformations.
He's here.
Where are you going?
I'm leaving.
I'm leaving. I'm coming.
Ultimately, like a hero.
- Why are you leaving? - Ordinarily.
Because it's written. It's my destiny.
There's always a departure or a return.
The greatest heroes do that in their daily life.
For me, leaving Bologna is painful, sometimes.
Like a cut. At times, it's a relief.
I like Bologna and I dislike it.
Leaving takes on meanings that can be disquieting.
It's good to leave and it's even better to come back.
I'd love to give a saucy and sentimental sense
to each departure and each return.
Saucy, I can do. Sentimental, not so much.
Lucio!
FOR LUCIO