"" Do You Mario? '"
" " How the fuck am I want, I have 95 years, are very old. I feel bad because I'm sick and old '" he lucidly
took his last and courageous decision. He understood that the time had come.
Mario Monicelli committed suicide. It could not end otherwise. And nothing you could expect from a man of such cultural significance. A man
rational, pragmatic. Hard and a bit 'cynical. Of those people, rare, who have attained a level of awareness of this life, that they could take to enable it at the right time. And that gesture, the last Gypsy should not be considered as an act of cowardice, as an escape route or action made. But it must be interpreted as the inevitable terminus of a way of life ended. Monicelli other had to be taken in this life, and another would no longer wanted to give.
So just stop living, was for him, the most acceptable solution.
rational, pragmatic. Hard and a bit 'cynical. Of those people, rare, who have attained a level of awareness of this life, that they could take to enable it at the right time. And that gesture, the last Gypsy should not be considered as an act of cowardice, as an escape route or action made. But it must be interpreted as the inevitable terminus of a way of life ended. Monicelli other had to be taken in this life, and another would no longer wanted to give.
So just stop living, was for him, the most acceptable solution.
A man of 95 years with prostate cancer. Debilitated by the disease. A person who acknowledges having reached the end calmly and decided to bow out on their own feet. He decides not to wait for those three or four months it would have been, but leave before. Perhaps thinking "After all is equal." Monicelli surprised, not so much the act itself, which in a sense has the flavor of already seen. Especially surprising for the time when he committed the act of suicide.
Just recently took over the fire to burn the fatuous controversy between the so-called associations "pro-life" and supporters of the right to euthanasia. A controversy sometimes grotesque, often sterile and rarely necessary. It revived, in these days, the tragic events of Piergiorgio Welby and Eluana. And in the midst of this unnecessary fight between points of view, the director requires. It gives us one last lesson of life sound. With his gesture
Monicelli, affects the arid polemics of the pro-life committees, glorifying lives dependent on machinery, and exalting the inevitability of life-prolonging. It requires, Monicelli, lashes a powerful slap in the face to those who have the courage to face death and because of their fears, their forces similar to a life not life.
Mario Monicelli threw himself into the void. Perhaps with the certainty of not being understood. Italy, his country, which he kept so by invoking the popular revolution, is now constantly at the mercy of a vacuum, and culturally. In what is thrown away daily.
So we rushed into the void of conformity and hypocritical bigot, that the hand of Mario Monicelli risks not be fully understood, could not be seen for what it actually is.
Monicelli's suicide may be nothing if not an act of intellectual freedom, an act of self-awareness. A hymn to life.
A life lived fully, deeply, and which ended when another could not do but finish.
Just recently took over the fire to burn the fatuous controversy between the so-called associations "pro-life" and supporters of the right to euthanasia. A controversy sometimes grotesque, often sterile and rarely necessary. It revived, in these days, the tragic events of Piergiorgio Welby and Eluana. And in the midst of this unnecessary fight between points of view, the director requires. It gives us one last lesson of life sound. With his gesture
Monicelli, affects the arid polemics of the pro-life committees, glorifying lives dependent on machinery, and exalting the inevitability of life-prolonging. It requires, Monicelli, lashes a powerful slap in the face to those who have the courage to face death and because of their fears, their forces similar to a life not life.
Mario Monicelli threw himself into the void. Perhaps with the certainty of not being understood. Italy, his country, which he kept so by invoking the popular revolution, is now constantly at the mercy of a vacuum, and culturally. In what is thrown away daily.
So we rushed into the void of conformity and hypocritical bigot, that the hand of Mario Monicelli risks not be fully understood, could not be seen for what it actually is.
Monicelli's suicide may be nothing if not an act of intellectual freedom, an act of self-awareness. A hymn to life.
A life lived fully, deeply, and which ended when another could not do but finish.
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