The role of the victim, the purge, the scapegoat had been put on a silver platter, but nothing for him. Calm. Serene. Zen. Especially at the beginning of his long farewell, Fazio did not evoke obscure plots and gags, but even the magnificent and progressive fortunes of the market (“we are not martyrs, we will work elsewhere”, a truly radiant, multinational, and rapidly growing “elsewhere” after the Discovery-Warner merger). In short, he never believed, as they say in Rome. What a style! What aplomb! Good boy. But nothing compared to the coup de théâtre she had in store at the end. We knew that the last episode of “Che tempo che fa” would be whiny and depressing and so it was. One could imagine a little letter from Littizzetto with rants on “a slightly different Italy”, freedom, dissent, censorship as if we were in Turkey, and all that vast repertoire that anyone with thirty years of anti-Berlusconism behind them already has seen a thousand times. Fazio, on the other hand, maintained the pathos of distance. He let it be. After all, it was his party. Then, suddenly, the genius. Here he is Fazio, on Instagram, greeting his loyal audience by immortalizing himself with Émile Zola’s famous “J’Accuse” behind him, the mother of all petitions and indignations, emblem of every intellectual martyrology, prequel to all the “I know” , Pasolini and not.
The role of the victim, the purge, the scapegoat had been put on a silver platter, but nothing for him. Calm. Serene. Zen. Especially at the beginning of his long farewell, Fazio did not evoke obscure plots and gags, but even the magnificent and progressive fortunes of the market (“we are not martyrs, we will work elsewhere”, a truly radiant, multinational, and rapidly growing “elsewhere” after the Discovery-Warner merger). In short, he never believed, as they say in Rome. What a style! What aplomb! Good boy. But nothing compared to the coup de théâtre she had in store at the end. We knew that the last episode of “Che tempo che fa” would be whiny and depressing and so it was. One could imagine a little letter from Littizzetto with rants on “a slightly different Italy”, freedom, dissent, censorship as if we were in Turkey, and all that vast repertoire that anyone with thirty years of anti-Berlusconism behind them already has seen a thousand times. Fazio, on the other hand, maintained the pathos of distance. He let it be. After all, it was his party. Then, suddenly, the genius. Here he is Fazio, on Instagram, greeting his loyal audience by immortalizing himself with Émile Zola’s famous “J’Accuse” behind him, the mother of all petitions and indignations, emblem of every intellectual martyrology, prequel to all the “I know” , Pasolini and not.
In his usual calm phrasing, Fazio talks about the wave of affection and emotion and the embrace of the audience and all those obvious things that are said when a program closes (or a “beautiful journey”, as in reality shows) but in the meantime behind, in nice view, the halo with the historic front page of “L’Aurore”. Not just any scenography, but a crazy ready-made. A lay saint to be posted immediately in the Feltrinelli in the center. Fazio under the shadow of the Dreyfus affair, also purged by the French army and without even a contract with Discovery in his pocket. Perhaps even a subliminal invitation: in case it goes badly, you can always collect signatures to get me back to Rai (even the Fazio-Dreyfus identification will be Caschetto’s idea).
In short, “L’Affaire Faziò” serves to underline the difference between “us” and “them”, between a state TV that can only be a little leftist, and a right that persists in wanting to leave Bagaglino. Lesson for the conservatives to come: the day after Fazio’s farewell, Salvini, instead of farts and eighth-grade tweets, could have greeted him on Instagram, wished him a good job and all those things of etiquette and circumstance, with a nice poster of ” Pino Insegno on tour” behind him. The day we have a right like this, it will finally be an equal fight.