“My name is Francesco Totti”: attention, Infascelli’s film can seriously damage emotional resistance
To be honest, I was a bit skeptical at first. I never liked hagiography in life. Not even the greatest characters. Then, having overcome the resistance of my popular anti-national snobbery, I tried my hand at vision. A real surprise. It is clear: mine, like that of other Romans and Romans, is a judgment favored by football membership, by typhus, by a Romanism that is more than characteristic is pure pathology. But so be it.
The best choice is not only the use of the archive images kindly made available by the Totti family. It is the voice of Francis that makes the difference in this narration of a 'normal' life. Of a boy from Rome like the writers, directors, screenwriters have told many, in recent years, that at a certain point, from his simple life as a stranger, he becomes Number One in his favorite sport, with the jersey of his team of the heart, in his city. A fairy tale that not even the best (or worst) sentimentalist hack could have imagined.
I was moved, I admit, to see the images of the Fortitudo sports field in the 1980s, then of the Francesca Gianni (the Lodigiani field in San Basilio), where even the undersigned, with less luck, made in those same years a his audition. Forgive me if in this review I am also self-referential but the feeling overflows and the emotions experienced are irrepressible. I was moved to see that Rome that no longer exists, which I tried to describe in “The last single by Lucio Battisti” , which several films still fail to grasp. That Rome of the 1982 championship overrun with people and flags and enthusiasm and that Francesco as a child remembers as a blazing meteorite. A Francis who becomes wise when he says that destiny exists and you recognize it when he is at work; and he would have recognized it 19 years later when those same emotions, those parades of fans, those joys screamed at the top of their lungs would have made us relive them with the third championship.
The private life and public life of Francesco Totti (normal boy and then Ilary's boyfriend and dad and football player), like all the lives of adults, are inevitably interconnected. The film knows how to render them with a very delicate balance. Francesco underlines them in his passages in Roman dialect (at times irresistible): "There will be one day until I die that I will be able to them '' a normal person, to see 'a monument around without me stopping to take a photo or' n'autograph? ". Rome did not make Francesco a monument as is mistakenly believed, Francesco was already a monument in his sport (and in his way of bringing Romanism to that sport) and the city simply recognized him. And he erected it. Despite, I stress, the rosettes that have offended and humiliated him for years to the point of smearing one of his most beautiful murals, that of the Madonna dei Monti.
There are CDs, videos, endless collections on all his best goals, his absolute feats on the green lawn; his way of touching the ball, his strength in kicking, his intuitive genius, the uniqueness in knowing how to anticipate the moves of the opponents and put a partner in the best condition. Alex Infascelli's film does something else; gives us back a champion man who has never stopped being first a simple boy (not from the township because Porta Metronia is San Giovanni, therefore a boy of the beating heart of Rome) and then a champion of football, revered by as many champions such as Messi, Maradona, Luis Fico, Falcao and many others.
The description of his relationship with the previous captain of Rome, another Roman flag, is beautiful; Giuseppe Giannini, of whom as a child he was a fan and with whom at a certain point he finds himself playing together. The film takes us back to incredible moments; the penalty missed by the 'Prince' during the 1994 derby, the surprise he gives him by showing up at his eighteen-year-old birthday party. And then there is the part that only the Romans can hear, and partially understand; the holidays in Torvaianica, the groups, the Saturday night outings in the disco, the student jokes, the Sundays in the bends, when there were no turnstiles and Daspos and politically correct banners; or when the fans crowded in Trigoria sitting on the wall and if they gnawed their ass they would come to insult you right into the car (this happened to Giannini after the wrong penalty against Lazio). "My name is Francesco Totti" is a little gem of our home documentary cinema. Anyone over forty should see it knowing that it can seriously damage emotional stamina. Those who are Roma fans should be warned that the final scenes of the Captain's farewell on that 28 May 2017 can seriously damage the paper handkerchiefs (prepare many). The soundtrack that accompanies Totti on the pitch during his last match at the Olimpico is precious. “Solo” by Claudio Baglioni is such a good choice that by itself it fills the screen without the need for comments.
The only discordant note, in my opinion, on the story of the conflict with the last Spalletti is a little too unbalanced. It really seems that the Tuscan coach arrived in Rome in 2015 to accompany Francesco to the club's door. I who am a conspiracy theorist do not want to believe it. And I hope I'm not wrong… In any case, thanks for everything, France '. We miss you so much.
The post “My name is Francesco Totti”: attention, Infascelli's film can seriously damage emotional resistance appeared first on Atlantico Quotidiano .
This is a machine translation from Italian language of a post published on Atlantico Quotidiano at the URL http://www.atlanticoquotidiano.it/recensioni/mi-chiamo-francesco-totti-attenzione-il-film-di-infascelli-puo-nuocere-gravemente-alla-resistenza-emotiva/ on Sat, 21 Nov 2020 04:06:00 +0000.