Here’s how Franchino ‘the Criminal’ even took over the TV

“One should have nothing but superficial relationships with those who dismiss onions, for they are characters incapable of depth”; what Guido Ceronetti wrote in Il silenzio del corpo could be the best lesson for understanding the seriousness and depth of those who explore the relationship between entertainment and food. For some time now, food has risen to become the undisputed ruler of television schedules and social media platforms. For every chef who has become a demiurge of restaurants and hotels—whose services and dishes are to be assessed—there is also an influencer who, armed with digital jargon, responds in a different register but on the same thematic ground. Perhaps, however, without neglecting those ‘agli’ and ‘cipolle’ that Ceronetti wrote about, and which make scant appearance in certain gourmet TV programmes. At times, however, these communicative trajectories intersect. Dmax has begun bringing to television personalities who have become well-known thanks to their online presence: from Gabriele Vagnato to Davide Gomiero, right through to Franchino er Criminale. It was precisely the latter who made his debut on the channel on 3 September, with the programme “La chiamavano pausa pranzo”, comprising nine episodes in total, broadcast every Thursday at 9.25 pm. The programme is as quintessentially Roman as it is straightforward and simple: three workers per episode who join Franchino at the venues where they usually spend their lunch break. Food vans, cafés, restaurants, rotisseries, taverns and pubs. Porchetta, pizza, amatriciana, fillets, even a Roman-style kebab that makes poor Franchino’s eyes pop.

Participants discuss, exchange views and recount the guest’s personal story and professional experience, alongside that of the place they are visiting for a meal. The segment features ratings, reviews and entertainment. Is it innovative? No. But since when, exactly, has television become Silicon Valley? Because on the web – setting aside the habitual trolls, often deliberately stirred up by Franchino’s competitors – people constantly ask whether a digital concept that intersects with television must retain its own distinctive tone, as if digital content were only entitled to a place on TV screens provided it brings about revolutionary change. But what exactly would these platform-driven revolutions look like? There are individuals who, simply by entertaining their audience while picking their nose, consider themselves the new Carmelo Bene. Is Franchino’s programme entertaining? Yes, and it achieves this without distorting the character created by Alessandro Bologna: a breath of down-to-earth humanity in an age of accelerated crushing of lives and rhythms. After all, food, like travel, reveals a great deal about human nature, and when a person finds themselves in the spotlight, they are always reflected in it – and we, in turn, are entertained. Jim Harrison, in "Un pranzo da re" (published by Settecolori), recalls how “beans and pork drove the men of this country westwards. Usually salted pork, as the caravans had no fridges’. Food is sharing, expression, communication, adventure, transformation, conquest. Returning to the question of innovation and influences, the television format appears to be a screen adaptation of “Cosa mangia,” a series that Franchino had created on his channel and in which he hosted other influencer and streamer “colleagues”; in that context, food became a pretext for engaging with and getting to know the guest, thereby entertaining the audience. The series featured major names from the Italian digital scene, from Masseo to Danny Lazzarin, up to a pataphysical episode in which the guest, Dread, managed—quite criminally, in fact—to cook pesto in a jar. On Dmax, instead of influencers, the programme features block-of-flats caretakers, electricians, lorry drivers and warehouse workers who, against the backdrop of a Rome that is largely working-class and suburban, tell us a little about their lives through the food they order during their lunch break.