"Louis XIV had devised a most imperative Manner of viewing the gardens at Versailles. Citizen Xavier Veilhan, as a guest for the season, has created a path along which his work invites the visitor to take a different view."
For full coverage, please visit A Shaded View on Fashion
The first time I visited EUR, Mussolini's failed Fascist wonderland on the outskirts of Rome, was back in July 2001. That was the year the Eternal City's left-wingers were fomenting dissent in response to the recent re-election of right-wing Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi. By chance, I met one of said left-wingers at a gay sauna called Europa--but, of course, the only reason I was there was so I could sit in the steam room and sweat out all the champagne I had drank the night before.
Luis, a Colombian immigrant and self-described Marxist/Buddhist, took me on a political tour of Rome which began with the rarely visited Fascist buildings of EUR and ended, more or less, with the socialist/anarchist stronghold of San Lorenzo--the radical-chic 'hood populated by politically active squatters and students. (Also on the tour, because it was convenient for one of our dalliances, was the apartment that belonged to a former Communist Party senator where sofa-surfing Luis was currently crashing).
Our visit to EUR (pronounced AY-oor and stands for Esposizione Universale di Roma) was a highly memorable one. I was fascinated by the deserted de Chirico-esque ambience and haunted by the often derelict appearance of much of the area. The kitschy Roman Empire-inspired warrior statues that Il Duce had erected around his "square Colosseum" in the late 1930s were stained with age, their pedestals surrounded by sprouting weeds. The only sign of life was a teenaged Italian couple tucked away behind one of the statues engaged in a heavy petting session. After enduring hordes of deplorably dressed tourists and cheesy minstrels in bad gladiator costumes at the real Colosseum the day before, Mussolini's melancholic, ersatz Rome certainly appealed to me.
The next time I was in Rome, in 2005, it was at the invitation of the Turin Film Commission who had arranged an interview for me with Dario Argento. When the taxi from Fiumicino Airport passed by EUR's square Colosseum, which is highly visible from the highway, my heart sank: a gigantic banner ad for a mobile phone company hung across the building, reducing its stoic, enigmatic appearance to that of banal scaffolding. Given the average Roman's blase and unsentimental attitude toward even authentic ancient ruins, however, I shouldn't have been surprised.
Fortunately when I returned to Rome this July to attend AltaRomAltaModa, the plot to turn EUR into a backdrop for crass advertising seemed to have been foiled. My driver took me there straight from the airport and this time I found the square Colosseum surrounded by a wire fence and evidence of construction and restoration. The muscular statues had been stripped of their decrepit patinas and shone brightly in the sun, while the square Colosseum was as white and polished as a Hollywood actress's veneered teeth. As Mink Stole declares while a gun is shoved up her ass in John Waters' Desperate Living: "Go ahead! A single bullet can never destroy the beauty of fascism!"
Thanks for reading!
Above: Italian Vogue creative director, Anna Piaggi at the Life Ball in Vienna, 2007. Photo by Glenn Belverio
Above: Adrien Brody and director Dario Argento on the set of Argento's 2009 film "Giallo."
The last time I was in Rome, back in 2005, I interviewed one of my favorite directors of all time, Dario Argento, at the invitation of the Turin Film Commission. For those who haven't heard, the Italian horror meister is releasing his new film, "Giallo," later this year and it stars American actor Adrien Brody. The title, literally "yellow" in Italian, refers to the tradition of Italian crime-fiction pulp novels with trademark yellow covers. Many of Argento's past films are classified as "giallos" because of their adherence to the genre's formula--a whodunit where the killer has a penchant for wearing sinister leather gloves and a black trench coat.
The female lead of "Giallo" is Brody's girlfriend, Spanish actress Elsa Pataky. Rumor has it that the reason Brody scored the lead role is because after Pataky was cast, Brody insisted on being on set with her at all times. Why? Allegedly he was concerned about Argento's reputation as a "misogynist director" who puts his actresses through grueling ordeals in his films. (Sound familiar? Remember the unconfirmed stories of Hitchcock ghoulishly chanting "faster!" while crews members hurled live birds at Tippi Hedren during the climactic attic scene in "The Birds"?)
So, since Brody would be hanging around the set of "Giallo" so much, it probably made sense for Argento to simply cast him as the male lead--bumping Vincent Gallo, Argento's original choice, off the film's marquee! (As much as I enjoy the handsome Adrien Brody, I can only imagine the kind of cineaste boner I would have gotten from watching Gallo in an Argento film!)
Interviewing Argento was one of the biggest thrills of my life. The feature I wrote, which was published in ZOO and WestEast magazines in fall/winter 2005, can be read below.
The Deep Red Menace
Italian horror maestro Dario Argento finally pays tribute to fellow Catholic, Alfred Hitchcock, and discusses his love of Turin, cats and sex
By Glenn Belverio
On the Via Veneto in Rome there is a rather unconventional chapel, known as the Cemetery of the Capuchins, whose interior is decorated in a meticulous, manic fashion: thousands of bones belonging to Catholic monks have been arranged in a diabolical manner that suggests a speed freak arts-and-crafts fair staged in Hell. This outré display of Roman-style macabre is similar in effect to a typical film by Dario Argento. His films’ notorious set pieces, almost too numerous to mention – Jennifer Connelly sliding into a pit of decaying bodies and maggots, a young woman being shredded in a tangle of barbed-wire, a raven gouging out the eye of a killer with its beak at the Regio Opera Theatre – have garnered him a fanatical following worldwide since his debut film, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, was released in 1970. For years, lazy American journalists have pegged Argento “the Italian Hitchcock”, a label that he has vehemently resented. Until now. “I really love Hitchcock, even though I’m not as manneristic as he was”, says Argento. “I don’t imitate him, but sure, he has had an influence on me.”
Scene from "The Bird with the Crystal Plumage"
My friend Rinaldo Rocco, a handsome actor/playboy who coincidentally has portrayed the killer in many giallos, or Italian murder mysteries, has driven me to my appointment with Argento on the back of his Vespa. After the nerve-rattling ride over bumpy cobble-stoned streets, we are sitting in Argento’s Opera Film headquarters in Rome hearing about the maestro’s new TV film, Ti Piace Hitchcock? (Do You Like Hitchcock?). Argento, now a youthful 65, is friendly and robust while still possessing his signature ghoulish carriage that has caused more than a few to comment: “He looks like something out of one of his own horror films.” And while he seems to cultivate this physical image – he famously eats little or nothing while working on his films – he is a true Roman in many other ways: warm, demonstrative and with a fondness for anecdotes. His famous father Salvatore Argento was a key player in the Italian cinema world but what is less known is that his mother, who was a celebrity photographer in the 40s and 50s, is Brazilian.
When I meet Argento, I present him with a Portuguese-language version of Camille Paglia’s book on Hitchcock’s film The Birds and he is flattered that I’ve recognized the other side of his Latin heritage. During the interview, Argento rolls along energetically in Italian – like a runaway Vespa careening through the Villa Borghese gardens – as Rinaldo struggles to keep up with him as my English-language interpreter. “For my new movie, I really wanted to imitate the style of Hitchcock, especially the long, drawn-out scenes he used for suspense”, Argento tells me. “But for my film, I really exaggerate the Hitchcock style of suspense by portraying long, long scenes that are much longer than his scenes. This is my way of commenting on Hitchcock’s main device for suspense.”
"Suspiria"
The story of Do You Like Hitchcock? concerns a 23 year-old film student and Hitchcock fan named Giulio who meets two women in a video store, all of them set on renting Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train. Giulio surrenders the DVD to the ladies who – in a gesture to Rear Window – live in the building opposite Giulio’s. When Giulio spies the two women making out, it becomes apparent that Do You Like Hitchcock? conspires to break through the sex-less, Catholic guilt-ridden barriers erected by the repressed Anglo director. “There are a lot of sex scenes in my Hitchcock homage, this is the only aspect that is different from his films”, explains Argento. “Hitchcock was very moralistic, he had this British way of behaving and directing, a British decorum. But I love sex and showing naked bodies in my films.” While this obvious Latin affectation is at odds with Hitch’s infamously timid attitude toward women’s sexuality, the fact that the British Master and Argento have a Catholic upbringing in common begs examination.
The role of Catholic guilt in the horror genre cannot be underestimated. Argento believes that horror films from Catholic countries serve the function of “releasing some kind of evil you have in your inner self…this is a good thing.” But despite his overt Italian baroque tendencies, Argento claims the reason his films are popular in Japan is because “my mind is very similar to the Japanese mind. I have a lot in common with manga artists.” He feels the prevalence of moralism in cinema is more of a problem in non-Catholic, Western countries. “My films are not moralistic but American films are, especially the big ones like War of the Worlds with Tom Cruise”, he says. “There is a fixation with family values in that film.” And while the calculating Hitchcock seemed concerned with specific psychological conflicts--Norman Bates and his smothering albeit dead mother, Marnie’s pathological frigidity, marauding birds as primitive force vs. civilization--Argento’s work is frequently visceral. He is often so caught up with high visual style, lighting and mise-en-scene, there is a constant feeling that Argento is too distracted to notice the axe-wielding specter of Catholic guilt sneaking up behind him. Viewing Argento’s films is a bit like having sex with a stranger in a Catholic country--there is a nagging concern that you’re doing something terribly wrong but it feels way too good to stop.
"Deep Red"
In addition to the Catholic connection, there are also the inevitable rumours concerning the cruelty of both directors. During a scene toward the end of The Birds, where Tippi Hedren is being brutally pecked by the film’s feathered stars in an attic, live birds were thrown at the blonde heroine. Hitch, who was not entirely fond of Hedren, allegedly egged on crew members by sadistically chanting, “Faster, faster!” In a similar scene in Argento’s 1980 supernatural experiment, Inferno, live cats were hurled at actress Daria Nicolodi, who was Argento’s then-lover and mother of their daughter Asia, and whose combative relationship with the director is the stuff of eternal Italian gossip. “Yes, Hitchcock hated Tippi”, Argento grins when I bring up both stories. Without denying the frenetic feline-tossing on the set of Inferno, he adds, “Hitchcock was afraid of birds, but I love cats. Some feel that cats are close to the devil and for this reason, priests rarely own them. But I don’t believe that.”
David Hemmings and Argento on the set of "Deep Red"
Produced by RAI Trade, Do You Like Hitchcock? – which was screened at the 2005 Cannes Film Festival – is the first in a series of Hitchcock-themed feature length programs and marks Argento’s return to the television format. When he was in his early thirties, Argento sported a modish mop-top hairdo that perfectly complimented his rock star-like status after his 1972 TV series, Door Into Darkness, catapulted him into the Italian pop culture stratosphere. Similar to the TV serial Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Argento’s series featured the horror auteur introducing hour-long murder mysteries from a variety of directors, including Argento himself. “When Door Into Darkness was shown on TV it caused a revolution. Many people called the station and also the newspapers to complain about the excessive violence. I met with the people at RAI and many scenes had to be cut”, Argento recalls. “Now, with the Hitchcock homage the complaints from RAI have been about the sex scenes rather than violence.”
The Villa Scott in Turin
Do You Like Hitchcock? was shot in Argento’s second favorite shooting locale after Rome, the city of Turin in the Piemonte region of northern Italy. Besides its arguably inflated reputation as the Italian capital of black magic, Turin is also the birthplace of Italian cinema – the first Italian film, Cabiria, was shot there in 1914. “I love shooting in Turin because there are many small neighborhoods that not many people have seen – it’s a rarely filmed city”, enthuses Argento. “I especially love Turin’s architecture as it is different from other Italian cities – it is between baroque and art nouveau.” As a friend and admirer of Michelangelo Antonioni, Argento has always appreciated the director’s use of architecture in his stories – particularly in the 1962 film The Eclipse where Monica Vitti wanders past modern buildings in a forlorn Roman suburb – and sees architectural structures as actual characters in many of his own films.
Perhaps the most famous example of this in the Argento oeuvre is the flamboyant and decrepit art nouveau mansion in his 1975 giallo masterpiece, Profondo Rosso (Deep Red). Built in 1901, the Villa Scott--nestled in the hills of Turin--is featured in several key scenes in which actor David Hemmings is attempting to solve a series of murders. “A group of nuns and wayward girls lived in this house when I discovered it during a location shoot”, Argento says of the villa which remained empty for most of the 80s and 90s. “We paid for all of them to go on vacation in Remini, a resort on the Adriatic, so we could shoot there for a month.” The nuns and their girls returned tanned and relaxed to their villa which was henceforth referred to as “the Deep Red horror house.” Another famous Deep Red locale is the Piazza CLN, on the via Roma, with its bookend male and female statue-adorned fountains, where David Hemmings is witness to the film’s first murder. Off the tourist beat, this humble piazza will be known to the world when the 2006 Olympics descend on Turin this winter.
Monica Vitti strolls through EUR in Antonioni's "L'Eclisse"
What is also little-known about Argento outside of Italy is that he shares the left-wing tendencies of his Italian cinema colleagues Antonioni, Pier Paolo Pasolini and Bernardo Bertolucci. In 1969, Bertolucci joined the Communist Party and also collaborated with Argento on the script for Sergio Leone’s classic Spaghetti Western, Once Upon a Time in the West. “I was a member of the Italian Communist Party”, says Argento proudly. He also worked as the film critic for Party newspaper Paese Sera after he finished Catholic school. In 1973, Argento made a rare departure from the horror genre when he wrote and directed the underrated Le Cinque Giornate (The Five Days), a left-wing political satire about the Italian revolution centered in Milan in 1848. Evoking the comedy of Mel Brooks and Monty Python, Le Cinque Giornate is a savage commentary on the birth of Italy. “I wanted to show how false that birth was”, say Argento. “Because it was a revolution conducted by the rich and by the nobles. That is why six years later there was another revolution, an anarchist revolution.”
"The Five Days"
I mention that recently while re-watching his exquisite first film, The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, I freeze-framed and zoomed into a Chairman Mao poster that hung on the American couple’s apartment wall in Rome. This causes Argento to launch into an anecdote from the time of Inferno’s pre-production with 20th Century Fox’s involvement in 1979. An American producer friend from Fox, who was very drunk after a dinner with Dario and Daria, was invited to nap in the Argento bedroom. The man passed out in the dark and when he awoke an hour later, he saw an enormous wooden red star, the symbol of Mao’s Red Brigade, towering over the bed. “He came running into the living room where Daria, me and the man’s wife were drinking and talking and he started screaming at the top of his lungs ‘What the fuck is this?! Are you a terrorist, a member of the Red Brigade?!’” Argento recalls. “And I said ‘no, no, no it is just art, a sculpture’ and he said ‘I’m not so sure about that.’ After he went back to America, I never heard from him again and our friendship ended abruptly.” This story brings to mind the anti-communist soliloquy near the end of the preposterous 1949 American propaganda film The Red Menace: "My flag has three colors, not one that's the color of blood!"
Of course Argento will always be thought of as the creepy yet dignified creator of Deep Red and other blood-soaked sagas rather than as a Red menace – and will continue to forge ahead in the terror terrain. Masters of Horror, a new TV series that will be distributed worldwide, will feature segments directed by fright titans John Carpenter, David Cronenberg, Roger Corman, George Romero (Argento collaborated with Romero on Dawn of the Dead) and others. Argento’s contribution will be a short film based on a comic book called “Jenifer”. The project grew out of a bi-monthly dinner gathering attended by the directors. At a recent one held in a Vancouver restaurant, Argento started arguing with John Landis after Landis opined that the shower scene in Psycho was effective because “you never actually see the gory stabbing." Argento began plunging his knife into the rare steak he ordered, screaming "No! I like to see contact with the victim! Lots and lots of blood! Audiences love it!" Would Hitchcock have liked Argento? We think so.
Thanks for reading,
Glenn
P.S. - The trailer for Mario Bava's "Blood and Black Lace"--a giallo set in a Roman fashion house:
Above: The spire of the Mole Antonelliana--once a Jewish synagogue, now the National Museum of Cinema--peeks out over one of Turin's grand piazzas. The Mole is the tallest (and most surreal) museum in the world.
Dear sweet-toothed Satanic Socialists,
Last month, after my trip to Barcelona for 080 Fashion, I jumped on a pond-hopper and headed over to Turin to visit my friend Barbara. Elegant Turin, the capital of the northern province of Piedmont, is like a heady mix of Paris, Vienna and Rome--without Rome's chaotic traffic and parade of tourists. Besides being the former home of Fiat and the eternal home of Christ's alleged shroud, Turin is also the witchcraft capital of Italy: it's part of the black magic triangle shared by London and San Francisco, and the white triangle with Prague and Lyon, France. Nostradamus, history's most famous seer, lived here in 1556 and Dom Bosco, the mystic who, in 1883, prophesied the building of Brasilia, was from Turin. Legend has it that beneath the city is a vast network of tunnels and catacombs that Turin's witches, past and present, use for their secret activities.
Above: Two views from Barbara's apartment--wonderful ochre-colored 18th-century houses line the street. Barbara lives in a neighborhood that is populated by both aristocratic families and young left-wing activists. I'm not sure how well they all get along or what percentage of them are witches. (For the record, Barbara is basically in the left-wing camp....one of those modern Marxists whose bookshelf is crammed with books by both Candace Bushnell and Fidel Castro).
I love the elevator shaft in Barbara's building.
Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts or.....an exquisite 18th-century cafe with gorgeous Venetian chandeliers, fresco-painted ceilings, perfect coffee and artisanal desserts? Which do you prefer? (Then again, Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts are probably not owned by the Mafia).
Barbara and I outside Al Souri where we met her friends for apertivos and vino.
Me and Francesco
Apertivo e vino time at Al Souri
Later, we had an excellent dinner at Trattoria Ala, a traditional Tuscan trattoria. Among the many things I ate (including a plethora of apertivo platters which whizzed around the table with dizzying frequency) was this heaping plate of homemade tortellini al ragu. For dessert I had something that I can only describe as chocolate flan which I still dream about every night. It was an orgasm on a plate.
Dinner at Trattoria Ala. The woman in grey is my friend Elena. She was also one of the publicists on the 2004 trip to the Alps and brought up the story about how I was freaking out about the avalanche alert in a valley near Alagna. (It was HIGH that day!)
Antonello and Franceso
I was very amused by Antonello's many raucous anecdotes.
Above: Let Them Eat Shit. Haute-bourgeoise eatery, Ristorante del Cambio
Funny story (for those who missed the discussion on my FaceBook page): While we were having our traditional dinner at this very homey trattoria, a revolution-of-sorts was raging on the other side of town at a very swank, very expensive restaurant called Ristorante del Cambio, which has been open since 1757. On my first trip to Turin in 2004--a press trip to visit the nearby Italian Alps--Barbara, in her role as publicist, took me to dinner there. The meal was a whirlwind of top-tier champagne, foie gras, caviar, fritto misto which included several deep-fried, vital cow and antelope organs, and desserts the size of Marie Antoinette's bouffant. (I get nostalgic thinking about how I acquired my first case of gout there--because you know I adore the diseases of the upper classes).
One of the unique details about the restaurant is its view of Turin's City Hall across the street (which you can see in the photo above). There is one seat in the restaurant--the "seat of power"--which affords the best view of the government building. During the 19th century, several of Turin's mayors would sit here during their term, whiling the day away with wine, fricasseed calf brains and idle conversation. If there was some kind of emergency, like a witch who needed to be burned at the stake or a peasant revolt, one of the mayor's pages would stick his head out the window and beckon the mayor back to his more official office. (On the night I dined there, the woman who was the head of the Winter Olympics committee was in the seat of power--of course).
So, on the recent night we were all having our cozy dinner at unpretentious Trattoria Ala, a group of masked anarchists burst into del Cambio during peak dinner time, armed with huge baskets. While screaming anti-rich slogans, the anarchists began flinging shit and bloody animal guts at the well-heeled diners. Yes, you read that right: Shit. And bloody animal organs. One can only imagine the chaos that must have ensued.
The next morning, Barbara's friends and I were poring over the front-page article in one of Turin's papers (which must go to press rather late, because the article was very thorough) and that's when I realized how anti-elitist Barbara's friends are. (Because, I realized, Turin's hip, left-leaning 30-somethings wouldn't normally be caught dead at el Cambio. And in this economic climate, it's just considered extremely gauche to dine there). As we read the article out loud one of Barbara's friends, who works in the restaurant industry, was laughing hysterically and mimicking the imagined reactions of the rich, Chanel-clad women who must have been dripping in (horse? human?) manure as tables laden with chateaubriand and status bags were overturned in the chaos. I joined in by rattling off a list of shit-stained designer outfits that were surely now being schlepped over to dry cleaners all over the city by hapless servants. The anarchist attack would have been a great scene in a film by Luis Bunuel--or John Waters.
Apparently Dante is now being revisited as a nazi? What will those wacky Italian anarchists think of next?
Al Bicerin is one of the most famous places in Turin as it has been serving up a delicious potion of chocolate and caffeine known as the Bicerin since 1763. Barbara dragged me out of bed early one morning so we could meet her father here over a round of Bicerins (I also had a sinfully decadent chocolate-and-hazelnut torte smothered in warm chocolate sauce, so you can imagine the chocolate rush I was on...worth getting dragged out of bed for). At the dawn of the 19th century, the building and interior were renovated and everything inside the cafe--the counter, the marble-topped tables, the wood paneling--are all intact and present in the space today.
Barbara's father is a brilliant professor and luckily I was all hopped up on chocolate and caffeine because he subjected me to a battery of questions about Obama, Clint Eastwood (Italian intellectuals think Eastwood is a closet leftist. Ditto for Bruce Springsteen), my work as a gonzo journalist (he rattled off a list of all the important works of gonzo, from Hunter S. Thompson to Tom Wolfe), and the oeuvre of Antonioni.
Behold, a quartet of Bicerins. The recipe to this irresistible concoction has been carefully guarded for centuries. It's a hot mix of espresso, chocolate (the exact nature of the chocolate is part of the carefully guarded secret) and fresh cream which are all layered, and not mixed, in a tall glass (even though "bicerin" technically means "small glass") . If I could, I would bathe in it daily. Legend has it that the drink was invented at Al Bicerin but detractors claim it surfaced earlier, in 1704, at Caffe Fioro, which still stands on the Via Po. (I believe I had my first Bicerin there in 2004 because Al Bicerin was closed on the day of my visit).
After our meeting with Barbara's dad, Barbara's boyfriend, Francesco, picked us up and we all rode over to a rooftop barbeque. Here you can see how close the Italian Alps are to Turin.
Me on the roof enjoying my first cup of Piedmontese red wine--the first of many. We all had to write our names on the plastic cups with a magic marker to avoid confusion (easy to become confused when you're drinking red wine in the Italian afternoon sun!) and I wrote "GAY WOODY ALLEN" on mine. That was the nickname Barbara gave me when we went on the press trip to the Italian Alps in 2004 because she thinks I'm neurotic. A ski trip had been planned and we all went to a ski shop to select our skis--except for me. I nervously wandered around the shop muttering to myself, "I don't want to die like Sonny Bono" and Barbara was like, "Glenn, are you okay? You look very pale!"
Then we rode to the tippy-top of Monte Rosa, the tallest mountain in the Italian Alps, and I must have looked scared because everyone was laughing at me. Later at the ski lodge atop the mountain, where I was extremely light-headed from the altitude, I had a cup of warm red wine and you can just imagine. Barbara and the rest of the PR team placed me in a coffin and slid me down the mountain. Inexplicably, I woke up several hours later, wearing nothing but a small Frette towel, in the steam room at the Blue Sauna Club.
A view of the Mole from the rooftop barbeque.
A mini-scandal broke out during the BBQ when everyone began realizing that there was an Iranian and an American at the party. Time for a peace summit! The Iranian woman, Bita, was dragged over to me and suddenly we were surrounded by cameras, including a TV camera (I think someone was making a Godard-esque documentary about the BBQ). We embraced in full view of the cameras to show that there were no hard feelings between our countries (someone should send the footage to Obama so he can see that I'm doing my part for diplomacy). I opined that I thought it was arrogant of the US to tell Iran that they weren't allowed to have a nuclear bomb, but Bita said she thinks her president is just too crazy to get his hands on something like that. The debate didn't go much further due to language barriers. (Will someone please buy me the Rosetta Stone for Italian? I can't afford it).
Barbara and Elisa
The food served at the BBQ was super-yummy: barbequed spare ribs and sausages, bruschetta (nothing like a fresh tomato grown in Italy), grilled eggplant and luscious tiramisu. For some reason, both Barbara and I both forgot to take pictures of the food. I guess we were too busy eating it!
On my third day in Turin I wandered around the city to enjoy the lovely weather and admire the city's beautiful facades. But it wasn't just a day of idle flaneur-ing....I was on a mission: To visit Turin's "dark heart," the focal point of the city's black magic energy.
Turin's so-called "dark heart" is located here, in the Piazza Statuto. At the end of the square is this rather bizarre monument.
The monument, which features a dark angel hovering over men trying to climb to the top, is a memorial to the workers who died building the Frejus Train Tunnel, a tunnel that linked Italy to France by rail. But many denizens of Turin believe the monument also represents something else....something more sinister.
The five-pointed star, a pentagram, on the angel's head is considered a clue that the angel is actually Lucifer himself. A rather beautiful Lucifer, I might add.
The Piazza Statuto has a dark past. The Roman and Medieval-era gallows were located just a few yards beyond the square and the ground beneath the monument is a millenniums-old necropolis. The Romans adhered to the Egyptian philosophy that the west, where the sun sets, is the most appropriate place to bury the dead. Many residents of Turin maintain that a sewer manhole cover near the monument (which I think I found, but there were a few) is actually the entrance to the Gates of Hell. Considering all the evil energy that is said to exist here, there were many Turin residents relaxing during their lunch hour on park benches in the piazza. I rested there for a few minutes and didn't feel uneasy--but then again, I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Lucifer.
However, if I had known, I would have visited the "light heart" or positive energy spot of Turin to balance things out. During a night drive, Barbara's boyfriend, Francesco, pointed the spot out to me: a gate entrance in the Piazza Castello, where the Shroud of Turin is publicly displayed. It's said that if one stands between the stone walls of the entrance, they receive a jolt of positive white magic energy. I wonder if the kick is as strong as the one I got from drinking a Bicerin...
My next stop was the Piazza CLN (Comitato di Liberazione Nazionale). This was actually my third time visiting this piazza, but on previous visits, it was always under partial construction. The piazza is famous for the two fountains and statues (whose feet point at each other) that represent Turin's two rivers: the Po and the Dora. The male statue (above) is Po.
And here is Dora. If you're a fan of Dario Argento's 1975 giallo film "Profondo Rosso" ("Deep Red"), you'll recognize the piazza as one of the film's more distinctive locations. (The entire film was shot in Turin). This is the piazza where David Hemmings' character witnesses the murder of a Swedish psychic in an apartment overlooking the square, to the left of the Po statue. A few yards back from that spot is where Argento erected a '40s America-style diner/bar based on the Edward Hopper painting "Nighthawks." Because Argento used this location as one of his most famous sets, Piazza CLN is often referred to as the "Piazza Profondo Rosso" by Turin residents.
A day without running into Perseus holding Medusa's head is like a day without sunshine....
These gnarly trees had a bit of a witchy vibe.
So on my last night in Turin, Barbara announced that we would be having dinner at a "clubhouse" where she and her friends went on most Monday nights. I can't remember what she said exactly that made me respond (jokingly): "Haha, sounds like a COMMUNIST clubhouse to me!" and "Will we be having dinner with the anarchists who stormed del Cambio the other night?" Barbara was all like, "No, no, no! It's not at all communist! It's just a laid-back place that we all like to go to." I believed her until we arrived at said clubhouse and contrary evidence immediately began rearing its red head....
Exhibit A: I think this speaks for itself, yeah?
Exhibit B: Agitprop poster with a quote from Karl Marx
Exhibit C: Painting depicting Marxist-Leninist rebels engaged in battle
Exhibit D (my favorite example): Even the wine was Communist! Check out the Workers Unite! style logo on the label. Needless to say, this wine was terrible. (We switched to something more palatable). I can't remember what I had--I think it was a northern-style pasta dish, some thin slices of deliberately fatty pork on slices of toasted bread and a big salad--but the food was quite good.
When I spotted this photo on the wall, I exclaimed, "I'm a big Elvis Presley fan!" and everyone stopped, stared at me, and then laughed for several long minutes. No, this is not Elvis--it's someone named Fabrizio De Andre, a singer, songwriter and revered intellectual (and a Communist, no doubt). A recent exhibition in Genova, where the singer was from, celebrated his life and work.
And OF COURSE Satan herself made an appearance at the Communist Clubhouse....Ronald Reagan and Jesse Helms must have been spinning in their graves that night!
On the drive home. Francesco took me to see this metal sculpture which was designed by my favorite architect of all time, Oscar Niemeyer . However, I'm not finding any information about it on the web. Does anyone know more about this piece? Behind the sculpture, one can see the old Roman walls and gate of the city.
I was really spooked out when I walked over to get a picture of the Roman walls. I heard strange noises coming from the other side of the gate and, fearing that I would be the next victim of a Satanic sacrifice, I high-tailed it back to Francesco's car.
Our final stop was a very sinister-looking apartment building that is adorned with dozens of dragon statuary and other wicked details like bronze salamander door handles. Sorry my photos aren't better, my flash was not doing a good job of capturing the dragon details. I totally want to live in this building!
I hope you enjoyed my bloggy tour of Turin--there is really so much more to see but I had to leave on the 4th day for Seoul. (Barbara was a fantastic host, btw!) Thanks for reading!
Ciao,
Glenn Belverio
Above: The spectacular Swann Fountain
Dear Philly-o-philes, Paglia-esque pundits, Rocky Balboa buffs, and Duchampian demimondaines:
I recently visited my close friend Camille Paglia in Philadelphia, where she is the University Professor of Humanities and Media Studies at the University of the Arts. Camille and I met back in October 1992 when she was touring with her essay collection, Sex, Art, and American Culture. In 1993 we collaborated on the short film, "Glennda and Camille Do Downtown" and in 1995, "Glennda and Camille Do Fashion Avenue." I hadn't seen her since she visited NYC two summers ago and it truly was a treat to have her as my own personal tour guide in the City of Brotherly Love (I hadn't been there since 1994, when our film played at the Philadelphia Gay and Lesbian Film Festival. I have vague memories of being on stage--done up like a Nancy Sinatra doppelganger--standing next to Camille, and rambling on about why I thought Leni Riefenstahl was a feminist icon).
On this recent day I visited Philly, Camille, as you can imagine, never stopped commenting for one moment on the details concerning every monument, fountain, painting, sculpture, building, street corner, tree, rock, and lamp post that came into her crosshairs. (I exaggerate, of course--but I learned so much!)
We started out the day with dim sum at Dim Sum Garden in Chinatown. Better than most of the dim sum I've had in NYC and on par with what I've had in Hong Kong, mainland China and Kuala Lumpur, the food at Dim Sum Garden is a must for all visitors to Philly's Chinatown, One of the highlights was the spicy sliced ox tongue and veal stomach with cilantro (above). Mmm, mmm, good! I instructed Camille on how to eat Shanghai soup dumplings (which I first tried in Shanghai 5 years ago) without burning her mouth as we wildly caught up on international gossip--all off the record, of course! It was such a relief to gossip publicly in Philly without having to constantly look over my shoulder, as I do in NYC, to see if so-and-so editor or bottom-feeding blogger is eavesdropping.
Next stop was the gorgeous Swann Fountain in Logan Square on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, which connects Center City to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It's also known as the Fountain of the Three Rivers--three colossal Native American figures represent Philadelphia's main waterways--the Schuylkill River, the Delaware River, and Wissahickon Creek.
The Swann Fountain was designed by sculptor Alexander Stirling Calder in 1924. Calder's son was Alexander Calder, who is of course famous for his mobiles. Calder's father, the sculptor, Alexander Milne Calder, did the giant figure of William Penn atop the tower of Philadelphi's City Hall.
Logan Square was where the public gallows used to be. The last person executed there was in 1823.
- 
Above: Camille cools off in the Swann's spray
Camille: "I am wearing my Axe t-shirt from Salvador de Bahia, Brazil, where I lectured in May. The Brazilian superstar singer, Daniela Mercury, who sent me five of her DVDs tied up with red ribbon to the green room after my lecture, is called 'The Queen of Axe.' Axe is a heavily rhythmic pop music that was born in Bahia, the most Africanized region in Brazil."
Speaking of Mercury, I found this article and photo of the singer kissing another woman star onstage (shades of Madge and Brit, hello) while recording a DVD. (To enlarge photo, click on "Vieja a foto ampliada).
After her recent lecture trip to Brazil, Camille wrote about Ms. Mercury in Salon and it can be read here.
(For further reading on Brazil, check out Glenn Belverio reports from Belo Horizonte on Hintmag.com)
Next stop was the Philadelphia Museum of Art....
Camille: "The pediments (triangular architectural niches above columns) of the Philadelphia Museum of Art recreate the original design of Greek temples. We think Greek and Roman statues are cool marble white, because their paint has worn off over the centuries. It seems weird and garish to see how vividly polychrome ancient sculptures actually were!
At the center here (created in terra cotta in 1932) is Zeus, king of the gods, wearing a sunburst crown and carrying the globe of the world in his hand. To his right is Aphrodite, goddess of love. To his left is the mother goddess Demeter with the child Triptolemus. Then seated is Ariadne, princess of Crete, watching the Greek hero Theseus lift his sword to slay the dread Minotaur, half bull, half man, whose lair was the mysterious labyrinth at the great palace of Knossos. Scholars have conjectured that ancient Cretans thought that the thundering sound of earthquakes was the roar of a subterranean bull."
(For some reason, whenever I hear "Greek mythology" I think of the yummy Harry Hamlin as Perseus in "Clash of the Titans".....)
Above: Camille would like to see Diana stripped of her patina
"Diana," by August Saint-Gaudens, is a colossal, gilded copper image of the Roman goddess of the hunt, which dominates the main staircase at the Museum. "It definitely needs cleaning--I am appalled!" Camille exclaimed when we entered the main hall. "In 1991, when Harry Benson photographed me at the Museum for the cover story of New York magazine ("Woman Warrior"), the statue was still gold!"
"Diana" was made in 1891 for the tower of the original Madison Square Garden, designed by Stanford White and demolished in 1925. As an archer, she illustrates the Garden's sports motif. It was actually the second statue of Diana that Saint-Gaudens made for the tower. The first one was designed as a weathervane and turned out to be too big. It was the highest object in Manhattan at that time and was the first statue to be lit up by electric light. It could be seen from New Jersey and the other boroughs.
Above: Proto-Bollywood starlet, circa 1578
Camille and I toured the Pillared Temple Hall from Madurai, Tamil Nadu, in Southern India. It was constructed of granite in the 16th century.
Me and a Hindu fertility goddess. Too bad I left my ovaries at home that day!
Above: "I'm as haggard as my fellow Aries, Bette Davis, in 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?'! I'd just staggered from two straight weeks of boilerplate university paperwork." (We think Camille looks fab posing here in a Japanese ceremonial teahouse in a stone and bamboo garden.)
Above: No, this is not a Catholic sex toy.
This Silver Reliquary contains the forearm of St. Babylas (!), martyr and bishop of Antioch from the 3rd century. Made around 1467 (they kept his arm around for that long?! Did they even have freezers back then?) in Germany. Relic from Byzantium (Constantinople, now Istanbul).
Above: In case you were wondering whatever happened to Sister Wendy...
This is the Reliquary Bust of Saint Scholastica, sister of Saint Benedict (she may also be a distant relative of Gina Lollobrigida but this has not been confirmed). Born in Italy during the decadent late Roman Empire (THOSE were the days!). She is the patron saint of convulsive children and nuns. Painted wood, made around 1500 in southern Netherlands or northern France (and she would like great on my bookshelf next to my late-decadent Elvis bust and Fellini DVD collection). Camille: "She sure looks fresher than me! Love those glossy skin tones." And this was before CHANEL moisturizer was invented!
Above: Paglia pauses for pious prayer pose and precious pontification.
Camille: "Saint Michael has been my favorite saint since childhood because there was a gorgeous statue of him in my baptismal church, St. Anthony of Padua in Endicott, New York, the factory town where I was born. He is shown in the silver armor of a Roman soldier as he spears and tramples the devil. As an Aries (sign of Mars, god of war), I have always identified strongly with that approach to life! It certainly inspired me as I trampled the devil of poststructuralism into the academic dust. It must be remembered that I was raised in the peppy, perky, ever-smiling Doris Day/Debbie Reynolds 1950s. St. Michael, in contrast, was a role model of fierce aggression. He represented courage and independent action--as did Amelia Earhart, my feminist role model during high school in the early 1960s. Is it any wonder that I had no patience whatever for the whining, male-bashing, victim-oriented feminism that sprang up in the late '60s and '70s? I'll take St. Michael over Gloria Steinem any day!" ZING!
Above: A day without minimalist, reimagined porn is like a day without sunshine.
Brancusi, "Torso of a Young Man," 1917-22, maple on limestone block
Camille: "A magnificently minimalist icon, descending from the kouros sculptures (nude athletes) of Archaic Greece. The streamlined missing genitals are startlingly reimagined in the overall phallic/scrotal design."
Camille: "Glenn exchanges a long, lingering glance with an attentive, mysteriously evocative cultic object."
Brancusi, "Princess X" Polished bronze on a limestone block. 1915-16. "This began as a portrait of a real woman with a long neck. It then morphed toward the phallic and created a scandal."
After my intimate encounter with Brancusi's evocative, provocative objet, we made our way over to the Marcel Duchamp room....
Above: Long before the calculated controversy of Damien Hirst, there was "Nude Descending a Staircase."
Camile: "Duchamp's cubist painting was the sensation of the Armory Show, held in New York in 1913, which introduced then-radically new European modernist art to the U.S. People laughed openly at this painting, and it was mocked in the press as "an explosion in a shingle factory." It looks more Futurist than Cubist, in my opinion, and resembles a series of stop-actioin photographs, or metallic gold robots/automatons."
Above: Camille and I each posed behind Duchamp's "The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even" or "The Large Glass" (1915-23). It's one of my favorite pieces by him.
Above: I snuck a photo of Duchamp's swan song, an installation, through the work's keyhole.
Duchamp, "Given: 1 The Waterfall; 2 The Illuminating Gas"
Camille: "The public was not told about this work until his death in 1969. The viewer must look through a peephole in an old wooden Spanish door. There's a tiny, glittery waterfall effect created by an electric motor. But what stuns the viewer is the sprawled body of a naked woman, pudendum to the fore. It's not clear if we're looking at a pastoral picnic or a sex crime. The work has been highly controversial among feminists, many of whom consider Duchamp an apolitical sexist. However, to Warholites like myself, Duchamp was the brilliant, iconoclastic prophet of Pop Art."
Meanwhile, back outside on the Museum steps....
Camille and I waited in vain for this bride and her bridesmaids to be stripped bare by their bachelors, even. I guess it was all for the better that life didn't imitate art.
Besides wedding photo shoots, the other non-stop activity on the steps involved tourists running up the stairs and stopping at the top, fists raised in triumph ala "Rocky."
Above: Well before puberty, I abandoned my crushes on Mary Tyler Moore and the teacher from Romper Room and moved on to my first make-believe husband: Sylvester Stallone in Rocky.
Eye candy alert! This adorable Rocky wannabe made it to the top of the stairs in record time. Eat his dust, Sly!
After the Museum, Camille and I drove down South Street and I jumped out to snap some of the local art...
Above: Isaiah Zagar's Magic Gardens. Zagar is very famous for his glass mosaic murals, and artists come from all over the country to study with him.
After that, it was off to dinner at BUMP (a gay restaurant which featured waiters with meticulously appointed biceps and eyebrows) and drinks at Woody's...but I was so engrossed in the conversation, I forgot to take photos.
Thanks for reading!
Love,
Glenn Belverio
Dear Readers,
Because I try to spend more time in the non-virtual world, I'm still trying to catch up on my blog reports from my recent trip to Barcelona. My reports can be read at Diane Pernet's AShadedViewonFashion.com, here are some links.
For my 080 Barcelona Fashion coverage:
Backstage with commentary by Candy Pratts Price:
Report on some of Antoni Gaudi's masterpieces
Report from Barcelona's nightlife
No, Oscar Niemeyer wasn't there (although several of my friends emailed to ask, "How is he going to make it up all those stairs in your apartment building?!?") but because I adore his architecture and recently visited some of his buildings in Belo Horizonte, Brazil (my favorite is the Church of Saint Francis of Assissi in Pampulha Park) I decided to throw an homage party for him. His 100th birthday just happened to be on December 15th which was also allegedly THE biggest party night of 2007 (according to Evite.com data, there were over 8,000 holiday parties being held in New York City--but MINE was the only Niemeyer-themed bash!) I served caipirinhas (I bought a few bottles of cachaca at the Sao Paulo airport a few weeks ago), Brazilian cheese puffs (which were just as controversial as Niemeyer's city of Brasilia: "Brilliant! I've tasted the future!" some of my guests enthused. "These gluey puffs are a Utopian nightmare!" others griped), goat-cheese-stuffed radishes, and Loretta Lynn's white bean dip (cuz it just ain't Christmas without some Kentucky-style hospitality). While intellectual arguments raged in my Mao Room, "That Man from Rio" (1964 French film starring the yummy Jean-Paul Belmondo which spoofs Niemeyer with scenes shot in Brasilia) was screened in the VIP Room. Below are a few shots of the happy revelers, plus: the during and after of the construction of Corey Sabourin's gingerbread tribute to Niemeyer's National Cathedral.
Angela G. gives good '40s-style glamour
Angela and Carlota. Carlota followed the Brazilian-themed dress code by donning a tropical-print muumuu.
Angela and yours truly in the VIP Room.
The gingerbread church under construction.
Carlota and Mina Estevez in my kitchen.
Pin-Up magazine Editor/Creative Director Felix Burrichter (center) with Marcello (left) and friend. Pin-Up is the hippest architecture mag on the scene right now.
Photographer Mathias Kessler and my tree
Knitwear designer Tom Scott emerges from the loo. Note the Niemeyer building photos to the left.
The fabulous Lauren Pine, a friend, and Dennis Stansbury. Bruce Benderson is in the background discussing the fine art of fragrance with perfume blogger Christopher Voigt (not pictured).
Max has a dialectical moment in the Mao Room
Angela does runway in my kitchen
Opium den-like giddiness in the Mao Room
Writer/photographer Nancy Stout
Bruce Benderson (right) and friend
Above: Belmondo flying over and around Brasilia, early '60s
