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The picaresque tone, the bewildering dialogues, the appearing and disappearing characters, the clamorous, impudent absence of any narrative structure.
A fascinating predilection for mental shifting, for the voluptuousness of sinking, the masochistic pleasure of senseless conversations, which once more place television as the undisputed protagonist, alongside our daily blah blah…
In other words, our days, our senseless busyness, the newspapers.
All my memories of Gambettola’s countryside: the hunchback who asked for money to show his wife’s tits.
There were different rates: from outside of the house through the closed shutters; from the threshold, she at the end of the kitchen lifting her pullover slightly; without the pullover.
Generally, four or five farmers would follow the wretched husband, elbowing each other, laughing excitedly and bashfully.
