24 aprile ore 20
Filarmonica della Scala
diretta da
Myung-Whun Chung
Beethoven Sinfonia n. 6
Brahms Sinfonia n. 4
24 aprile ore 20
Filarmonica della Scala
diretta da
Myung-Whun Chung
Beethoven Sinfonia n. 6
Brahms Sinfonia n. 4
| Ritorna Maazel con Tosca alla Scala!!!! | ||
| Direttore | |
|
Lorin Maazel |
|
| Regia | |
| Luca Ronconi ripresa da Lorenza Cantini |
|
| Scene | |
| Margherita Palli | |
| Costumi | |
| Vera Marzot | |
| Direttore del Coro | |
| Bruno Casoni | |
| Personaggi | Interpreti | ||
| Tosca | Daniela Dessì | ||
| Hui He | |||
| Cavaradossi | Walter Fraccaro | ||
| Fabio Armiliato | |||
| Scarpia | Carlo Guelfi | ||
| Lucio Gallo | |||
| Angelotti | Enrico Iori | ||
| Sagrestano | Domenico Colaianni | ||
| Spoletta | Mario Bolognesi | ||
| Sciarrone | Alberto Noli | ||
| Carceriere | Ernesto Panariello | ||
| Un pastore | Lucrezia Drei | ||
Su richiesta, pubblico il commento di Vittorio Zucconi su Repubblica
Saving private Prodi
Perché gli italiani all'estero non sono più quelli di un tempo
Se tradizione italiana vuole che dopo le elezioni anche il più minuscolo dei partiti ci venga a raccontare che "ha vinto", questa volta possiamo dire con certezza matematica che un partito ha vinto di certo. E questo partito siamo noi, gli Italiani che vivono fuori d'Italia. Con quel voto che ha sorpreso tutti, me compreso che pure dall'estero ho votato, la Sinistra italiana ha avuto la maggioranza al Senato, così garantendo che Silvio Berlusconi e la Destra non potranno, in ogni caso, più essere chiamati a guidare il governo, anche se una verifica delle schede rovesciasse, cosa tecnicamente assai improbabile, quella paper thin majority di voti conquistati da Romano Prodi e dalla Sinistra alla Camera.
Siamo stati noi, dall'estero, a "Save Private Prodi" e se questo sia stato un merito o un disastro dirà il futuro incerto di un'Italia che oggi di tutto ha bisogno altro che di un calvario Florida style, di schede "incinta" o "vergini" come si diceva durante la riconta Bush-Gore. La certezza è la scoperta, sbalorditiva per gli Italiani in Italia e un poco sorprendente anche per noi Italiani fuori d'Italia, che i luoghi comuni su di noi sono antiquati come i servizi delle tv che ancora vanno a cercare gli italiani nelle Little Italys dove non vivono più da tempo e ci allietano con processioni e sagre paesane alla Mario Puzo.
L'Italia oltre l'Italia non è più, e da tempo, quella che Mirko Tremaglia immaginava, sfilando nel giorno di Colombo lungo la Quinta Strada di Manhattan. L'idea che il nostro emigrato e le sue famiglie siano ancora lacrimevoli figure di nostalgici disposti a svenire alla vista dei tre colori e votare chiunque glieli agiti in faccia, si è dimostrata falsa, oppure, per dirla con Mark Twain, grandemente esagerata. L'Italia fuori dall'Italia è, piuttosto, una comunità più raffinata ed evoluta dell'Italia stessa in Italia, perché esposta al confronto con mondi, culture e media diversi. Ci sono tra noi, naturalmente, i nostalgici, i nazionalisti che confondono le apparenze con la sostanza, i prigionieri della guerra fredda, i "rimpiantisti" e hanno il diritto di essere e pensare quello che vogliono.
Ma c'è una nuova Italia, fatta di ricercatori universitari, di piccoli e grandi businessmen, di professionals, di pendolari della nazionalità, di donne che vivono nelle carriere o nelle loro famiglie la coscienza dei propri diritti di cittadine. Queste persone leggono i giornali tedeschi, inglesi, francesi, australiani, giapponesi e americani e per avere notizie dall'Italia si collegano molto più a siti Internet come repubblica. it (grazie a tutti voi che ci avete scritto per ringraziarci) che non alla voce del padrone di turno, a quella Rai International che li offende con una programmazione imbarazzante e paternalistica. Uno strumento così rozzo, antiquato e controproducente da mandare in diretta e poi in differita tutte, dico tutte!, le serate dello straziante Festival di Sanremo, ma incapace di proporre in diretta i dibattiti Prodi-Berlusconi. Quella Rai che posiziona Vespa e Porta a Porta negli orari migliori, sapendo di poter contare sul fido portiere, ma condanna Ballarò, considerata un empio nido di leninisti no global, alla diretta, dunque al primo pomeriggio sul mercato americano, quando gli ascolti sono minimi.
A questa Italia che non vive di sagre di San Gennaro e di sole partite di calcio dal campionato di serie A, delle imposte sulla casa a Milano o sulla garbage collection a Roma, dei Bot, che nessun Italiano all'estero possiede, della Tirsu, la tasse sulla spazzatura, nulla o pochissimo importa. E l'assenza di quel bombardamento televisivo "shock and awe" scatenato dalle reti private dell'ex presidente del Consiglio (suona bene, dirlo, l'ex presidente del Consiglio) non è arrivato nulla, se non di rimbalzo, attraverso i pochi e sempre sarcastici servizi dei grandi media internazionali che ormai trattavano "Don Coglioni", come titolò il Wall Street Journal, con dileggio e aperto disprezzo.
A loro, a noi che abbiamo votato due settimane prima del 9 aprile dunque abbiamo evitato l'assedio finale e spasmodico del Cavaliere "imbavagliato" e dunque ventriloquo visto che parlava comunque dappertutto e sempre, dell'Ici importa poco e quelle leve azionate dalla destra per restare in quota di volo non funzionano. Importa invece lo stato della cultura, della università che ha disseminato i nostri cervelli in giro per il mondo impoverendo l'Italia e arricchendo le nazioni che astutamente li accolgono spesso con belle borse di studio e non li trattano da precari o carne da cannone nella salumeria dei lauree. Importano l'immagine del nostro governo, la dignità di una nazione che vorrebbero, almeno, poter indicare ai propri figli o ai propri nipotini come qualcosa di cui essere orgogliosi per i successi concreti, per la sua civiltà politica, non per le "trasvolate di Balbo" o per la pacche di un Bush talmente impopolare negli Usa da essere ormai evitato come la peste dai suoi stessi colleghi repubblicani in vista delle elezioni 2006. Gente stanca dispiegare ai bambini come di debba tradurre "testicles" nella loro lingua, quando i media citano non un clown un po' grossier, ma un Presidente del Consiglio.
Questi sono emigrati temporanei o definitivi che non hanno paura dei comunisti, ma hanno paura dei consolati, nei quali entrano tremando al pensiero dell'incubo burocratico che li aspetta per le pensioni, le eredità, le procure, i passaporti. Trattati troppo spesso non come ospiti graditi, come padroni di casa quali sono, ma come rompicoglioni (cito un altro nostro ex ministro, Scajola): i maltollerati da funzionari overworked and understaffed, dotati di attrezzature tecnologiche da Regno Sabaudo, con fondi tagliati da un governo che non esita a spendere centinaia di migliaia di euro per un'inutile missione elettorale di Berlusconi a Washington, ma non trova i soldi per un cancelliere, un computer, un impiegato di concetto, una linea telefonica in più.
Non credo che l'Italia fuori dall'Italia sia di sinistra. Il primo voto degli italiani all'estero è stato un voto contro il governo, qualsiasi governo gli fosse capitato tra le dita ed è patetico dire oggi che la destra ha perso perché si sono presentati con manciate di simboli mentre l'Unione era, almeno in Nord America, sola. Se la Destra si è sminuzzata è perché la sua arroganza, la sua certezza, erano totali e credevano di giocarsi tra di loro la partita.
Il voto è stato un grido di rabbia che tanti hanno accumulato contro chi li ha sempre ignorati, al massimo trattati con condiscendenza, con una visita pastorale tra marcette, coccarde, pizze e retorica da "mamma luntana". Se il povero ministro Tremaglia che si aspettava una messe di deputati e senatori di destra e passerà invece alla storia come l'artefice della strombatura di Berlusconi, è un segnale di quanto profonda sia la loro insoddisfazione per il Paese che hanno lasciato, per libera decisione o per necessità e nel quale molti di loro, medici, biologi, fisici, chimici, specialisti di informatica vorrebbero anche tornare, se non temessero di essere trattati da idioti.
Spero che un nuovo governo, quando ci sarà e qualunque esso sia, cambi questa legge elettorale pessima per tutti e francamente ridicola nella suddivisione di collegi che avrebbero, per la loro vastità oceanica e dispersione, spaventato anche italiani come Verazzano o Colombo.
Per adesso, mi accontento di osservare con immensa gioia che il paternalismo alla Mirko Tremaglia e alla sua Rai International è fallito miserevolmente perché non siamo quello credevano che fossimo. E' toccato ancora una volta alla gente venuta dal mare il compito di salvare, se non la democrazia, almeno la faccia dell'Italia.
(12 aprile 2006)
He had not been heard from since he was seen guiding his ancient mum into a polling booth and instructing her audibly to "put a cross on the symbol for Forza Italia". In the wake of this tightest, most nail-biting of Italian elections, Silvio Berlusconi, the man of torrential eloquence, had dried up. The nation's journalists spent the best part of yesterday waiting for the gusher to resume.
Finally, after 48 hours of silence and seven hours later than first announced, he took to the stage in his 16th-century Roman headquarters, all gilt rococo cupids, and told the press that as far as he was concerned the election had been won by nobody.
"We do not believe," he said at a press conference repeatedly postponed during the day, "that today, as things stand, anyone can claim to have won." Why not? It was not just that the voting was very close. The results, he claimed, displayed "many, many murky aspects". The man they call the Cavalier was not going quietly.
It was the crowning tragi-comic moment of a historic day in which Italy finally got a new government. By now, after such twists and turns, he was an isolated figure as the congratulations rained in on the winner, Romano Prodi.
And the fact that an era was passing was underlined by the stunning news, just seven minutes after Mr Berlusconi's defeat became certain, that the most wanted mafioso in Sicily, the man from Corleone who has been capo di capi for 13 years and on the run for 30 more than that, had been arrested.
A political vacuum had opened up: Berlusconi, long tainted by his Mafia links, was on his way; and suddenly the biggest mobster of the lot was in the bag. Italy does not lose its capacity to amaze.
The day in fact began in the middle of the previous night. With provisional results pointing to a slim centre-left victory, Romano Prodi and his allies stood up and with most un-Prodi-like boldness seized the initiative.
Their supporters had waited five years for some good news: the Italian left were not going to let a little thing like a tied Senate and a whisker-thin advantage in the Chamber of Deputies poop their party. The big bash in Piazza del Popolo planned for yesterday evening had been canned as the good news curdled and Italy's general election grew ever tighter. But at 2.30 on a chilly morning, with a cutting scirocco wind coursing through Rome's cobbled lanes, the road outside Romano Prodi's campaign headquarters in Piazza Santi Apostoli, solid with Prodi supporters, exploded with joy as their leader took the stage and announced that the coalition had won.
But the words were hardly out of his mouth when Paolo Bonaiuti, Mr Berlusconi's spokesman, told reporters a few hundred yards away that Mr Berlusconi's centre-right coalition, the House of Liberties, was contesting the left's victory because "we have won the Senate". As the morning wore on, Mr Bonaiuti was proved wrong. The last Senate seats to be accounted for were the six given, for the first time, to expatriates, and although the idea of giving Italians abroad the vote was dreamt up by Mr Berlusconi's government in the belief that it would work to the right's advantage, four out of the six went to the centre-left. By the slimmest margin, 158 Senate seats to 156, the centre-left had scraped home.
It was at 11.21am that the centre-left coalition announced their success in the Senate - not a definitive result, but solid enough to go on. And then a very bizarre thing happened: out of the proverbial clear blue sky came the news that the most important living mafioso, Bernardo Provenzano, had been caught outside his home town of Corleone in western Sicily.
It was the strangest coincidence. The Mafia is a subject on which Mr Berlusconi has never spoken. On this subject, so close to the concerns of many millions of Italians, he has had nothing at all to say. And now, in the moment when Mr Berlusconi had fallen from grace, this bombshell. "It was the end of a season, the end of an era," remarked a journalist in Rome.
Back in Rome, as the wait for Mr Berlusconi's press conference got under way, the left and its supporters began ruminating on the close result. In the Chamber of Deputies, thanks to the premium given to the winning group, the majority is of 63 seats. It is in the Senate that Mr Prodi's problems lurk, because all legislation in Italy must be passed twice by both houses. Mr Prodi attempted to soothe fears, declaring that his government was "politically and technically strong", and would govern for five years. It would be a government for all Italians, he insisted, "including those who didn't vote for us."
For his part, Mr Berlusconi has difficulty accepting that the campaign is really over. At his press conference, after floating the idea of a recount, he thought of something else. How about a grand coalition? "I think that we maybe need to take the example of another European country, perhaps like Germany, to see if there is not a case for unifying our forces and governing in agreement," he suggested. People of good sense," he went on, "must think of a government in the interests of all, not one which ranges one half of the country against the other." Somebody will have to break it to him gently: he's out of power.
A Europhile most at home in the countryside of Bologna
Only rarely, while European Commission president, did Romano Prodi share a platform with his compatriot and rival Silvio Berlusconi - and only once did he seem to enjoy himself.
Mr Berlusconi, then Italian Prime Minister, had just committed a political gaffe by describing Western civilisation as superior to Islam. At a press conference in Brussels, Mr Prodi looked on in silence while an aggressive European press corps laid into Mr Berlusconi. As an irritable Italian premier dug himself deeper into a hole, the faintest ghost of a smile was seen on the face of the European Commission president.
The episode highlighted the contrast between Mr Berlusconi, the erratic, loud-mouthed, flashy media magnate, and Mr Prodi, the solid, cautious economics professor from Bologna.
When in office as European Commission president between 1999 and 2004, the nickname he liked was the Diesel. He saw himself as someone who, through methodical hard work, delivered decent results.
His minders debated how to improve Mr Prodi's communication skills, persuading him to give up speaking in English or French. Unfortunately compatriots said he did not sound that much better in Italian.
Mr Prodi, who studied at LSE, Harvard and Stanford, was born in 1939, number eight of nine brothers and sisters. Seven of his siblings went on to be university lecturers. This academic background counted in his favour during his first stint as Italian Prime Minister, when he was seen as the antidote to his corrupt professional political rivals. But in ultra-political Brussels he was criticised by the (non-Italian) media for his lack of charisma and failure to get a grip on the bureaucratic machine.
He is a committed European, but while in Brussels his main focus always seemed to be Italy. Whenever possible he quit the Belgian capital for his base in provincial Bologna, enjoying the countryside on his mountain bike. Terra e Vita, a weekly for Italian farmers, is his favourite magazine. And he once complained that, while he could tell an Italian's background and politics from a brief conversation, it was impossible to perform the same trick in multinational Brussels.
The job of Italian Prime Minister was the one he wanted. Now that he seems to have won it back, at the head of an extraordinarily broad and cumbersome coalition, the real hard work is set to begin.
He had not been heard from since he was seen guiding his ancient mum into a polling booth and instructing her audibly to "put a cross on the symbol for Forza Italia". In the wake of this tightest, most nail-biting of Italian elections, Silvio Berlusconi, the man of torrential eloquence, had dried up. The nation's journalists spent the best part of yesterday waiting for the gusher to resume.
Finally, after 48 hours of silence and seven hours later than first announced, he took to the stage in his 16th-century Roman headquarters, all gilt rococo cupids, and told the press that as far as he was concerned the election had been won by nobody.
"We do not believe," he said at a press conference repeatedly postponed during the day, "that today, as things stand, anyone can claim to have won." Why not? It was not just that the voting was very close. The results, he claimed, displayed "many, many murky aspects". The man they call the Cavalier was not going quietly.
It was the crowning tragi-comic moment of a historic day in which Italy finally got a new government. By now, after such twists and turns, he was an isolated figure as the congratulations rained in on the winner, Romano Prodi.
And the fact that an era was passing was underlined by the stunning news, just seven minutes after Mr Berlusconi's defeat became certain, that the most wanted mafioso in Sicily, the man from Corleone who has been capo di capi for 13 years and on the run for 30 more than that, had been arrested.
A political vacuum had opened up: Berlusconi, long tainted by his Mafia links, was on his way; and suddenly the biggest mobster of the lot was in the bag. Italy does not lose its capacity to amaze.
The day in fact began in the middle of the previous night. With provisional results pointing to a slim centre-left victory, Romano Prodi and his allies stood up and with most un-Prodi-like boldness seized the initiative.
Their supporters had waited five years for some good news: the Italian left were not going to let a little thing like a tied Senate and a whisker-thin advantage in the Chamber of Deputies poop their party. The big bash in Piazza del Popolo planned for yesterday evening had been canned as the good news curdled and Italy's general election grew ever tighter. But at 2.30 on a chilly morning, with a cutting scirocco wind coursing through Rome's cobbled lanes, the road outside Romano Prodi's campaign headquarters in Piazza Santi Apostoli, solid with Prodi supporters, exploded with joy as their leader took the stage and announced that the coalition had won.
But the words were hardly out of his mouth when Paolo Bonaiuti, Mr Berlusconi's spokesman, told reporters a few hundred yards away that Mr Berlusconi's centre-right coalition, the House of Liberties, was contesting the left's victory because "we have won the Senate". As the morning wore on, Mr Bonaiuti was proved wrong. The last Senate seats to be accounted for were the six given, for the first time, to expatriates, and although the idea of giving Italians abroad the vote was dreamt up by Mr Berlusconi's government in the belief that it would work to the right's advantage, four out of the six went to the centre-left. By the slimmest margin, 158 Senate seats to 156, the centre-left had scraped home.
It was at 11.21am that the centre-left coalition announced their success in the Senate - not a definitive result, but solid enough to go on. And then a very bizarre thing happened: out of the proverbial clear blue sky came the news that the most important living mafioso, Bernardo Provenzano, had been caught outside his home town of Corleone in western Sicily.
It was the strangest coincidence. The Mafia is a subject on which Mr Berlusconi has never spoken. On this subject, so close to the concerns of many millions of Italians, he has had nothing at all to say. And now, in the moment when Mr Berlusconi had fallen from grace, this bombshell. "It was the end of a season, the end of an era," remarked a journalist in Rome.
Back in Rome, as the wait for Mr Berlusconi's press conference got under way, the left and its supporters began ruminating on the close result. In the Chamber of Deputies, thanks to the premium given to the winning group, the majority is of 63 seats. It is in the Senate that Mr Prodi's problems lurk, because all legislation in Italy must be passed twice by both houses. Mr Prodi attempted to soothe fears, declaring that his government was "politically and technically strong", and would govern for five years. It would be a government for all Italians, he insisted, "including those who didn't vote for us."
For his part, Mr Berlusconi has difficulty accepting that the campaign is really over. At his press conference, after floating the idea of a recount, he thought of something else. How about a grand coalition? "I think that we maybe need to take the example of another European country, perhaps like Germany, to see if there is not a case for unifying our forces and governing in agreement," he suggested. People of good sense," he went on, "must think of a government in the interests of all, not one which ranges one half of the country against the other." Somebody will have to break it to him gently: he's out of power.
A Europhile most at home in the countryside of Bologna
Only rarely, while European Commission president, did Romano Prodi share a platform with his compatriot and rival Silvio Berlusconi - and only once did he seem to enjoy himself.
Mr Berlusconi, then Italian Prime Minister, had just committed a political gaffe by describing Western civilisation as superior to Islam. At a press conference in Brussels, Mr Prodi looked on in silence while an aggressive European press corps laid into Mr Berlusconi. As an irritable Italian premier dug himself deeper into a hole, the faintest ghost of a smile was seen on the face of the European Commission president.
The episode highlighted the contrast between Mr Berlusconi, the erratic, loud-mouthed, flashy media magnate, and Mr Prodi, the solid, cautious economics professor from Bologna.
When in office as European Commission president between 1999 and 2004, the nickname he liked was the Diesel. He saw himself as someone who, through methodical hard work, delivered decent results.
His minders debated how to improve Mr Prodi's communication skills, persuading him to give up speaking in English or French. Unfortunately compatriots said he did not sound that much better in Italian.
Mr Prodi, who studied at LSE, Harvard and Stanford, was born in 1939, number eight of nine brothers and sisters. Seven of his siblings went on to be university lecturers. This academic background counted in his favour during his first stint as Italian Prime Minister, when he was seen as the antidote to his corrupt professional political rivals. But in ultra-political Brussels he was criticised by the (non-Italian) media for his lack of charisma and failure to get a grip on the bureaucratic machine.
He is a committed European, but while in Brussels his main focus always seemed to be Italy. Whenever possible he quit the Belgian capital for his base in provincial Bologna, enjoying the countryside on his mountain bike. Terra e Vita, a weekly for Italian farmers, is his favourite magazine. And he once complained that, while he could tell an Italian's background and politics from a brief conversation, it was impossible to perform the same trick in multinational Brussels.
The job of Italian Prime Minister was the one he wanted. Now that he seems to have won it back, at the head of an extraordinarily broad and cumbersome coalition, the real hard work is set to begin
Ieri, 10 aprile 2006, si è svolto al Teatro alla Scala (Stagione Filarmonica VI), il saggio di fine anno di Robin Ticciati.
Programma
I. STRAVINSKIJ : Pulcinella
P. ČAJKOVSKIJ : Sinfonia N. 4
Per non appiattirsi in questo momento esclusivamente sul fronte musicale, da " amministratore" mi prendo la libertà di proporre un post un po' diverso. Domenica si vota. Personalmente mi auguro straperda il centrodestra: le motivazioni sono sotto gli occhi di tutti, e non ho altro da aggiungere...
27 marzo ore 20
Orchestra Filarmonica della Scala
Daniele Gatti
R. Wagner, Incantesimo del Venerdì Santo
G. Mahler, Sinfonia n. 9
Riportiamo i relativi commenti dal post precedente. Ci scusiamo per il ritardo.