My Mother and Daniel J. Travanti
Splendor
Written about an Italian movie I had seen once but which I thought was the greatest movie I had ever seen. This was broadcast on RTE Radio 1’s Sunday Miscellany on 12 May, 2013.
Whenever I attend an event and the time comes for everyone to show their appreciation I always look around and think how odd it is, even bizarre, that we put our hands together in a rhythmic fashion, shout, whistle, or whatever else, to say thank you, to say that was brilliant to another person. It’s must be one of the few things that sets us apart from other animals – bar trained seals, it’s not something one could ever envisage horses, seagulls, or, god forbid, cats doing.
It all comes down to the thorny issue of consciousness. I remember a college lecturer once telling us that consciousness was an historical accident caused by a change of diet – the jaw line of Homosapians’ receded, which allowed the forehead to expand, which in turn allowed more room for the brain to grow, which in the end led to consciousness. It’s the sort of fact that makes my own conscious brain hurt.
This consciousness not only made us aware of what we ourselves do and think, but allowed us to be influenced, moved, changed by the actions and the words of others. Like the way I was changed forever when I first heard the rapier-like voice of Shane McGowan. Or the time I was stopped dead in my tracks as I left the late lamented
Waterstone’s bookshop on Dawson Street in Dublin after reading the opening lines of Sam Beckett’s Murphy, ‘The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.’ Or being at a Bruce Springsteen concert at the RDS. Or reading Julian Barnes’ novel Metroland.
And right up there with all of these was watching an Italian film called Splendor.
The first and only time I have watched Splendor was in 1989 in the small upstairs screen of the Irish Film Centre during an Italian film festival. Splendor was about friendship, the glory and sad demise of cinema and the transformation of Italian society after World War II. It starred Massimo Troisi (whose last film before his tragically early death was Il Postino) and Marcello Mostroianni (three times nominated for the Academy award) I remember their characters’ bantered refrain as “The when and the where?” “The here and the now!” It was beautifully directed by Ettore Scola – funny, original and poignant all in an understated, subtle way. As far as I recall there was only one showing and about 15 people watched it with me. I walked out of the cinema moved, changed as a person by the efforts of those who had made the movie.
For some years afterwards whenever I was asked for my favourite movie I would always reply Splendor. But I was only able to do that for so long because no-one had ever heard of it and I grew tired of explaining. I also had to admit that for a movie to be classed as ‘my favourite’ it needed to be seen at least twice. But Splendor never reappeared in the
cinema again, never came out on video, was never shown on television. This gem sank without a trace.
I lay the blame squarely at the foot of another Italian movie, Cinema Paradiso, which is dedicated to roughly the same themes. But to me it was a poor, sentimental pastiche of what was a much greater film. As a result I have a deep antipathy to Cinema Paradiso. Since first seeing it I have refused to watch it on the countless times it has been shown on television. Every time I hear mention of it my thoughts turn, lamentably, to Splendor languishing, forever it seemed, on the scrap heap of world cinema.
But then the other day, after years of searching for a copy of Splendor in the international titles sections of shops and on the internet, I finally found a dvd, with English subtitles – I stared in the disbelief at the computer screen. It came with a handsome price tag, but I didn’t hesitate.
When this morning’s post arrived and I heard the gentle thud of a padded envelope on the hall floor I ran like a child on his birthday to hold my copy of Splendor.
Finally, I am going to see this great movie again.
This evening a bottle of wine has been selected – it’s breathing as I write. The pizzas are ordered. The dvd is in the player.
But now excitement gives way to anxiety – why can’t anything be simple? I have never been anxious about watching a movie before. But now I have thoughts like, what if my wife doesn’t like it? She has heard me go on about this mythical film ever since we first met. What if she sits there, uncomfortable at not liking it, uncomfortable at me knowing she doesn’t like it.
And what if I don’t like it? I watched it when I was in college, when I had just moved out of home, with a dozen or so other people in the small upstairs screen of the new cool Irish Film Centre. Maybe the way I was moved by Troisi, Mostroianni and Scola had as much to do with the context in which I watched the movie, as the movie itself.
And how much do I really remember about Splendor? Today, a week, heck, sometimes even an hour, after seeing a film, its precise details can be hazy to me. Splendor is a film I saw 23 years ago. And what if I learn that Cinema Paradiso is better? If that’s the case a part of me will have been deconstructed, will crumble, even die. Do I really want that?
And so now I think about not watching it at all. Isn’t the memory enough? Isn’t it better to remember a wonderful film whose twenty four frames a second has stayed with me and has meant so much?
No. Not at all. The when and the where? The here and the now. Pick up the remote and press play.
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