Good Morning, Night

Born in Piacenza in 1939 from a family of the upper middle-class, he attended the Liceo of the Barnabite Fathers; in 1959 he abandoned his studies in philosophy at the Catholic University in Milan and enrolled at the Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia (The National Film School in Rom). Then, in London, he followed courses in cinema at the Slade School of Fine Arts, graduating with a thesis on Antonioni and Bresson. He made his debut in full-length films with Fist in His Pocket (I pugni in tasca) (1965), considered one of the best first works in the history of the Italian cinema. In this great film, the rebellious tendency of the young is skilfully expressed in terms of revolt against family and normality, through the story of a young man who decides to exterminate two members of his own family. His next film, China is Near (La Cina è vicina) (1967), marked a turn towards comedy, in the clash between bourgeois hypocrisy and the vain ambition of the fake revolutionaries. His next films were attacks on the institutions: the college (In the Name of the Father (Nel nome del padre), 1972), the regime press (Slap the Monster on Page One (Sbatti il mostro in prima pagina), 1972), the lunatic asylum (Fit to be Untied (Matti da slegare), 1975, in collaboration with Agosti-Petraglia-Rulli), the barracks (Victory March (Marcia trionfale), 1976).

A grey period followed, during which he concentrated on literary adaptations (The Seagull (Il gabbiano), 1977, from Chekhov) and returns to old themes (The Eyes, the Mouth (Gli occhi, la bocca), 1982); matters got even worse later, when he began collaborating with the psychoanalyst Massimo Fagioli, producing a plethora of incomprehensible and pretentious works, from Devil in the Flesh (Il diavolo in corpo) (1986, from Radiguet) to The Butterfly’s Dream (Il sogno della farfalla) (1994). When he finally rid himself of the oppressive presence of his mentor, Bellocchio returned to his best form with a dream-like version of The Prince of Homburg (Il Principe di Homburg) (1997), where the subject from Kleist is revisited with a vigour worthy of Lang. Equally striking, The Wet-Nurse (La balia) (1999) genially betrays Pirandello’s short story of the same name, filtering it though the lens of class relationships. His next film, The Religion Hour (L’oora di religione) (2002) is a powerful and impressive layman’s reflection on the themes of the commercialisation of the sacred, as well as the best result of the season in Italy. Bellocchio seems to be the most vital artist of his generation today: we may be sure that whatever he has to say is bound to bear fruit. —italica.rai.it