Unfortunately, Oscar-winning director William Friedkin passed away at the age of 87, in the year of the fiftieth anniversary of The Exorcist and with his new film which will be in Venice. Our very personal memory.
Bad news is always unexpected and bad news even more so. You will forgive the writer if this is not the usual impersonal and professional obituary, because in this accursed 2023 the news of the death of a friend, a man and an extraordinary director arrived today, August 7, one of those encounters that are rarely made in life and that mark you forever. He’s gone William Friedkinat 87 (he would have been 88 on August 29), the author of masterpieces such as The violent arm of the law, The wages of fear, The exorcist, Cruising… the great storyteller, the man gifted with an extraordinary sense of humour, intolerant of nonsense and foolishness, enthusiastic, in love with opera and Puccini, highly cultured, full of love for art, literature , painting, as only an autodidact can be. A man who had never forgotten his popular roots, while attending the White House, always available, curious about life in all aspects of him, fascinated by the dark side, by the mystery of faith, by the fallibility and ambiguity of the human being . Generous, to the point of giving his trust to many young critics, including me, who at the time, in 1994, was alone and had always been a fan of his films. I interviewed him when he came to present Just win, in a waning phase of his career. I wrote to him (at the time there were paper letters) after seeing Jade and he called me to thank me and tell me that he would always be happy to collaborate with me. He kept his word and came to the Noir in Festival where at the time I was collaborating with the fundamental Giorgio Gosetti, at my invitation, he appreciated my books on him (I still have the box with the Paramount marked VHS tapes that sent me films that were unobtainable at the time , including his first documentaries), trusted me again and again, even when we might not agree on something. At the time, I remember, nobody considered it apart from the French and when I proposed a Beaver about him I was told “but who buys a Beaver on Friedkin?”. Thanks to Noir and my stubbornness, I wrote the first book in Italy dedicated to his cinema for Transeuropa. It goes without saying that then everyone rediscovered it and appropriated it, but I wasn’t interested in “the glory”, I was just happy to have been able to demonstrate my affection and my admiration for the author (how he hated this definition!) responsible for at least one month of sleepless nights after watching theexorcist, the film, seen in theaters at the age of 14, which made me understand the power of cinema, and of which I still have the original poster framed with an affectionate dedication. But there are so many, too many, memories that come to mind: when he forced me to act as his interpreter, not satisfied with the official one, at the official presentation of the premiere of Wozzeck, the first opera he conducted, at the Comunale in Florence, when on his way to collect the Golden Lion for Lifetime Achievement he stopped on the way to hug me, the unexpected gift he gave me, when he shared me with an older colleague and with his adored wife Sherry Lansing, his soul mate and pillar of stability in his life, to whom my thoughts now go, publicly quoting from the Auditorium stage the intelligent women he appreciated. And yet the interviews (the one in Turin lasted an hour and a half), her emails, phone calls, personal Tweets, her paternal affection.
Today this news, which I partly expected (he no longer replied to emails, and I had seen him in an American interview at the beginning of the year, always lucid and fantastic in his narration but fragile, suddenly aged and it was evident that he had serious health problems ) literally devastated me. I wouldn’t know how else to pay homage to him other than by saying what he was for me: I have written several times about his extraordinary work, today there is a very dense literature on that, including his splendid autobiography, and deep down we all know what he did and how his gritty, modern cinema, always ahead of its time, has marked the history of the seventh art (and if you don’t know, read the summaries of his career, which have appeared everywhere in these hours). For me it is both a joy and a pain to know that he managed to shoot one last film, The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial, with the little strength he had left, and that film will be in Venice, where unfortunately he will not be able to accompany it as he always loved to do. After all, it’s nice to know that he died leaving us one last gift, with which as usual he will have tried to convey his civil passion to us, as he has always done without ever bending to the commercial laws of Hollywood. When he was at the height of fame and he could have done anything after that The exorcisthe directed The wages of fear, which he rightly considered his masterpiece and which was a fiasco. As a young man he had also been arrogant, but he was not a presumptuous man, he was only aware of his own worth and listened to him speak, even if you had heard him tell so many times – even during a dinner with Christopher Lee e Peter Weller at Noir in Festival, about unforgettable memories – it was absolute joy, unique enjoyment, as many who met him at festivals know. William Friedkin was a sincere man. My home is filled with photos, posters, DVDs and mementos from the time I was lucky enough to share with him. I can’t write anything else: in this case, unfortunately, the journalist gives way to the human being. Thank you dear Billy, I really loved you so much, I’m only sorry, as always happens in these cases, not having been able to hug you once again, but you know I’ll never forget you.