The triumph of the Bicamerale del Cinema, thanks to Pupi Avati. A round of applause, everyone.

Within the Grand Ministry of Culture, cinema has always been the gatecrasher: admitted to the party, but at the back of the room, after Pompeii, opera, the marble monuments and the art galleries. Now, at last, it has been granted a home of its own: enter the Agency for Cinema and Audiovisual Media, an austere name reminiscent of a tax office, but better than nothing. One hundred and twenty-three in favour, none against, no abstentions. In a country where the right and the left tear each other apart over everything, Meloni and Schlein find themselves, for once, united in the sacred heart of Italian cinema. This borders on a miracle – the sort of thing not even grand coalitions or governments of national solidarity manage to achieve. The credit for this bicameral bill coming to fruition goes, as we know, entirely to Pupi Avati, aged 88, who last year, from the stage at the David di Donatello Awards, asked Meloni and Schlein specifically to get in touch, meet up or have a phone call to ‘save Italian cinema’. Then, addressing Under-Secretary Borgonzoni in the audience, he added a terse “Clap, oh!”. That was just the beginning. From then on, Avati, in full lobbyist mode, never stopped: waiting rooms, phone calls, appointments, interviews, knocking on doors until someone opened them. In the end, they all opened their doors to him.

When it came to showing their gratitude, however, very few turned up. Minister Giuli dedicated the day to Tinto Brass, who had passed away just a few hours earlier. The PD is already calling it the ‘Schlein Bill’ and will use it as a selling point in the election campaign. Mollicone said ‘thank you’ in public, but since then there has been nothing more from the political sphere. But politics, as we know, is not a grateful business. Cinema, however – you might say, colleagues, directors, actors – surely they would have expressed their thanks. But no. Or at least there is no record of it. The trade associations were quick to point out that autonomy has been watered down, funding is uncertain, and so on, whilst taking care never to mention Pupi Avati. Now, one can say anything about him, except that he acted out of self-interest or personal gain: they still wish him many more films, but at eighty-eight years of age, from an agency that, if all goes well, will open in 2028, he doesn’t have much to gain. There is a promise of streamlined procedures, a reorganisation of the sector, and support for independent producers. Or it may become yet another ‘useful’ body, the umpteenth political spoils of war, a ‘reservation’ for those left out in the cold by the next elections. We shall see. For the moment, however, the Agency exists where none did before, and action was clearly required. The only lingering suspicion is that, had someone else been leading this battle, we would have seen interviews, tributes, torchlit processions, front-page headlines with ‘Thank you, Pupi’ in huge letters, and a proposal to name a room or corridor in the new Agency after him.