Album Notes
Fondazione Cineteca Italiana
Matteo Pavesi
With three cinemas showing films of artistic and historical interest, an interactive museum that has become an important centre for film education, an extensive underground film archive accessible through augmented-reality applications, a restoration and post-production laboratory, and a library of rare books and periodicals, Fondazione Cineteca Italiana brings together many different aspects of cinema culture.
Established in Milan in 1947 by the directors Luigi Comencini and Alberto Lattuada, the Cineteca has been a member of FIAF since 1948. At the time of this recording, its activities were developed in collaboration with the Ministry of Culture, Regione Lombardia, Città Metropolitana, Comune di Milano, Comune di Paderno Dugnano, Epson, ECFA, Europa Cinemas, the University of Milano-Bicocca, Fondazione Mondadori and AEM Milano.
The archive held some 35,000 international film titles dating back to 1895, including a collection of Italian animation. Its heritage also included approximately 300 antique cinema devices, 100,000 photographs, original screenplays, 17,000 books and periodicals, and 15,000 posters. In 2011 it created two interactive spaces: the MIC–Interactive Film Museum and the Augmented Reality Film Archive, integrating archival collections, film literacy, cross-media practice and audience engagement.
The Cineteca’s cinemas—Spazio Oberdan, Area Metropolis and the MIC Theatre—offered approximately 2,000 screenings a year, welcoming around 130,000 spectators, alongside a broad programme of educational activities.
From Classic…
Francesca Badalini
This recording grew out of a wish to retrace my “cine-musical” life, focusing on the path that has linked me to Cineteca Italiana since 1999. Track by track, memories and impressions of films, places and encounters gradually resurface. I believe there are few places today where the magic of cinema can still be experienced intact.
One is certainly Cineteca Italiana [02], with its archive, interactive museum and cinemas, where works from distant times and places can be seen again, far from the standardisation of the multiplex. The first people to welcome me there, in autumn 1999, were Gianni Comencini and Matteo Pavesi. Gianni [03] was then its director and one of its founding figures. I still remember the passion he brought to his work and his great kindness.
The first film I accompanied before an audience was De brug [14], Joris Ivens’s short documentary of 1928 about the structure and workings of Rotterdam’s lifting bridge: hardly the simplest debut! On screen was a bridge over a river; for me, it became a bridge between my classical training and the cinema-related musical experiences of the years ahead. This is how I would set it to music today.
The Cinemobile [05] is one of the Cineteca’s treasures: a van equipped with a projector and sound equipment which travelled around Italy from the 1930s to the 1960s, showing newsreels, documentaries and films on a screen mounted in front of it. Its travelling storytelling ended abruptly in 1964, when it was abandoned in a scrapyard on the outskirts of Rome. After many vicissitudes, Regione Lombardia purchased it and commissioned Storica to restore it. On 15 October 2016 it found a new home at the Cineteca’s Museo Interattivo del Cinema. It is fascinating to imagine travelling with the Cinemobile, taking cinema everywhere as it once did, on a poetic journey despite the bumps and occasional mishaps.
The more recent DVD series I Tesori del MIC, devoted to rediscovered and restored treasures of cinema history, brought me to a novel familiar to almost every Italian schoolchild: Alessandro Manzoni’s I Promessi Sposi [06]. Mario Bonnard’s film of 1923 conveys its psychological and historical dimensions with depth and intensity. My work has not been limited to silent films: over the years I have also composed for sound cinema, including Il sogno di Federico [08, 09], a docufiction by the Italian director Paolo Lipari, produced by Radiotelevisione Svizzera Italiana.
In those eighteen years I missed only one concert. Six years before this recording, on the day Silvia was born, I was due to accompany the silent film I Mille. As a local newspaper put it, the screening was interrupted by a newborn’s cry. Silvia was eager to improvise even before she learned to play the piano. Mother and Daughter [11], which we play together at one piano, is a faithful transcription of one of her improvisations. I already know to whom I shall pass the baton!
Time passes quickly, crystallising into years and memories [12]. The passion remains, while the desire to experiment with new sounds and explore unfamiliar musical paths grows. The soundtrack for La madre e la morte [18] uses artificial timbres and electronic sound processing to accompany the dreamlike, visionary images of Arrigo Frusta’s compelling short film of 1911.
Nonsense Song [13] pays tribute to Charlie Chaplin’s genius as an actor, director and gifted musician. His performance in Modern Times made this song a classic and finally allowed audiences to hear his voice. I have always been curious about instruments’ less familiar timbres, so my version uses prepared piano and unusual playing techniques.
Sometimes I compose for modern instruments, even working with a rock band. With the help of two of its members, I arranged and combined music from two great films, Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence and Blade Runner [16], in a medley for piano, electric guitar, electric bass and percussion. Moving between East and West, it is a tribute to the 1980s, the years of my musical and cinematic formation.
When a good film ends [21], we leave the cinema full of emotion, with a subtle vein of melancholy. Will we feel the same when we turn off the stereo after listening to this recording?
…to Jazz
Antonio Zambrini
In 2002 my dear friend Francesca Gualandri asked me to play the piano at a screening of a silent film from 1924 starring her grandfather Carlo Gualandri. The film had just been restored and was ready to be shown at Cineteca Italiana. That was how I met Matteo Pavesi, Gianni and Luisa Comencini, Francesca Badalini and all the friends working at the Cineteca.
For every film I have accompanied since then, I have kept the approach of that first occasion: sitting at the piano, beginning with a chance note and improvising melodies, chords and silences—not necessarily jazz, classical music or any other style, but simply following the images on my monitor. After a performance, listeners have often asked whether the music was available as a score so that they could play it at home. This told me that my improvisations were communicating, and I have maintained that approach throughout these years, fortunate and honoured to work with Cineteca Italiana.
We play and improvise on pieces connected with cinema in different ways. Improvviso [17] relates particularly to my long association with the Cineteca, built around free live piano improvisation during silent-film screenings. Comencini [15] and Natale a Rimini [10] are my tributes to Gianni Comencini, associated with the Cineteca since its foundation in 1947, and to Federico Fellini.
Mimì [01] was composed by Paolino Dalla Porta for Wilma Labate’s film Domenica (2001). Paolino also arranged Pure Imagination [07] for our trio, a song by Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley from Mel Stuart’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971).
Performers
Francesca Badalini: piano, electric guitar and electronics; Aurora Bisanti: violin; Lydia Colona: clarinet; Andrea Grumelli: electric bass; Francesca Lipari and Emiliana Parenzi Colombo: flutes; Davide Martinelli: percussion; Gianfranco Messina: violin and viola; Matteo Zurletti and Giulia Monti: cello; Fabrizio Rizzo: accordion; Silvia De Brasi: piano in Mother and Daughter. Antonio Zambrini: piano; Paolino Dalla Porta: double bass; Manhu Roche: drums.
Recording and production
The classical programme was recorded at Mouseville Studio, Milan, in April–May 2017; sound engineer: Francesca Badalini. The jazz programme was recorded at Orlando Music Studio, Milan, in December 2016; sound engineer: Stefano Spina. Cover image: a still from Luigi Comencini’s Il museo dei sogni (1949). Production, design and art direction: OMK–Da Vinci. Printed with the support of S.P.L.M.