L'uomo e il mare (in salsa maltese)
Sogno cinematografico o intervista futurista? A voi la risposta. Ecco cosa succede a Sud della Sardegna, nell'antica isola di Malta. di Kenneth Scicluna
(Clicca per la versione in italiano) Once upon a time, there was a man who loved the sea. And who earned his living fishing for tuna.One day he was called, and asked to fish for men. And he feared not, because as much as he loved the sea, he also loved the cinema. And he organised casting for twenty films or so, until he netted his biggest role, as local casting director on Amenabar’s Agora.
It seems that Amenabar’s inspiration comes from Spielberg. The fisherman, instead, swears allegiance to Tarkovsky, Raj, Resnais and Peckinpah. Books by them, and on them, abound on the only shelf he has at home: a modest sailing boat.
A graduate in communication studies, the fisherman still avidly reads books by contemporary film theoreticians, like Rothman, and when he was a student he was one of the very few regulars at the audiovisual library at university. In fact, if there’s one thing that sets Edward Said apart, it’s his voracious appetite for film: he’s not happy to have just studied a handful of films. If he talks about Saura, Godard and others, it’s because he has watched all of their works.However, if one had to study, in turn, Said’s films (three narrative shorts and some documentaries), one would not (only) sense the intellectual depth earned from years of study, but also a feel for what it means to be Maltese, a brief experience of what it is like to inhabit our landscape. Each and every film of his is a distilment of an aspect of the Maltese ethos. And if just in this respect, Said is the one Maltese director who deserves most to be our filmic spokesman.
Ironically, Ed, as he’s known, only became keen on cinema about fifteen years ago, and it was a friend of his, Mark Sansone, who drew him in with a small 8mm camera. Co-directors on their first two films (No Dogs, 2001, and Kaxxa Infernali (Fireworks), 2002), they portrayed emotions in a seemingly naïve language. Using film, even when they had no cash, these early films appear technically poor at first (with location sound at times muffled beyond comprehension, and lots of hairs in the gate). A deeper reading of their films, however, reveals a language that is intrinsically poetic, hidden by the heavy grain at times, but inescapably there in the framing, in the editing, in the narration, in the (original) music.
Ed’s last film (helmed solo), acts as a microscope on the calcareous terrain that hems our coastline. Il-Kaċċatur – Hunter – 2005, was inspired by the silhouettes of hunters rambling on the cliffs, that Said often observed whenever he went for a swim.Since then, unfortunately, Ed has landed no more films. “I’ve got a case-full of rotting film,” he laments. Was his work in film, hindering from making films? “A bit, yes. But I’ve also been trying to capture a story filmed in bad weather, and the previous two winters were too mild. I’ve seen bad storms this year, but not the inspiration to go out and film.” I indicate that I understand the feeling, but not, perhaps, the reason. “I’m no longer so keen on making short films. I don’t get enough room to explore characters. I’ve had it with the inherent dearth of depth.” I ask if this is, then, the end. “Oh no. I’d be happy if I could at least extend duration up to 45 or 60 minutes.”
We hope then, to see more of Ed’s works. The audience is there and is already hooked. All we need is the fisherman.