I can hardly settle myself down to write this. I’m immersed in the throes of Ferrante Fever here in Hollywood…watching trailers incessantly, reading reviews, studying photos of HBO’s “My Brilliant Friend”–-that premieres tonight…
Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels took hold of my life a few years back, when I devoured the series in a staying-up-late fury, turning pages, promising myself I’d go to bed…maybe after the next chapter…or the next…
When the HBO show was announced recently, I started listening to “My Brilliant Friend” on Audible just to refresh my memory…and now my walks have become very looong…listening riveted to the whole series again…that would be me in the Hollywood Hills circling in a daze, imagining Lenu and Lila and all the rest of the fascinating bunch in the Italian city that is so dear to my heart: Napoli…
Last September, I was in Naples and spent time with guide extraordinario Daniela Ibello, who offered to take me to Rione Luzzatti, called THE NEIGHBORHOOD in the books–where all those dramas transpired, a place that had so long intrigued me…
It was first built between the two World Wars–government housing–and expanded post World War II. These days, the part we wandered around still has the misshapen close atmosphere Ferrante describes–kids playing freely in what were courtyards (now parking lots)—being watched over by the grown-ups on the terraces: bare chested guys smoking, a signora in her bra and panties hanging out the wash…
Through the windows I saw signoras in their kitchens framed by faded curtains…a dark haired woman limping past…shadows of Lenu’s mother…
It was afternoon and the teenagers back from school were moving around me–loud-talking, wild teams and packs. Every time I saw a couple of girls I felt a laser pull toward them…
Had they heard of the books? We stopped this happy pair…Sara had heard about THAT, neither had read them….
I gazed around slowly taking in the grates….where was the house of Don Achille, where Lila and Lenu dropped their dolls?
We were obviously outsiders…I couldn’t resist taking out my camera for an overview, and Danielle, noticing we were being observed by a couple of signors leaning on the iron railing of their balcony, walked over to tell them of my obsession.
Michele and his buddy were happy to greet us–he wiry in muscle t-shirt, half bald, tanned, creased oval face, dominated by noble nose and thick gray eyebrows–his compact pal a foot shorter, with a mop of salt and pepper hair. They laughed at my mission, shaking their heads, they’d never heard of these books, this TV show…BUT would you ladies like some caffe?” When we hesitated, Michele threw up his hands, I make the best caffe in Napoli!, and was back in a flash with two plastic cups, he extended down to us with gallant flourish.
The commotion inspired a Commedia dell’Arte sketch. Enter La Moglie=The Wife, Mariella, a large woman with flaming orange hair that matched her caftan. Sure, she’d read about that show in the papers, it got a standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival. Don’t ask HIM–she pointed, with her purple manicured chubby hand, they don’t know anything! AND NO PHOTO! NO PHOTO! Look at how he’s dressed, she shouted pulling on Michele’s T-shirt, giving him a slap. Michele joined in saying la moglie never takes photos, even at family festas… She waved him away again, and leaned her big bosom-d self over to us to talk…Where are you from? Where do you live? They’ve lived here since 1958…my mind click-clicked imagining Mariella here during “My Brilliant Friend” days…
We praised the buono-buono caffe and moved on to the church, where Lila married Stefano. Kids loitered outside lazily kicking a soccer ball, and we opened the doors to dazzling baroque and a mass. As if on cue, came the chant: Ave Maria….
Getting ready to watch…
