We'll Sleep When We're Old by Pino Corrias

Author:Pino Corrias
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

Fabris’s Wolves

Oscar Martello remembers very clearly the first day he met Attilio Fabris, three years ago, in the offices of Anvil Film: the director had just turned thirty, and he had the face of a rich, spoiled child. A handlebar mustache to give himself a presence, but with a fairly ridiculous overall effect. Dressed in total black. The demeanor of a wily fox who pretends to be introverted so he’ll seem more intelligent. He emanated a high-handed arrogance that he clearly struggled to suppress, probably an inheritance from his father, Pierferdinando Fabris, chief physician in the cardiology ward at Varese Hospital, a man in favor of law and order, and in fact, a monarchist, which was a category of assholes that Oscar believed had gone extinct. As for his mother, she was one of those usual noblewomen, thin as a straw, afflicted with nervous disorders, the ones they still cultivate along the dreary lakeshores, like certain competition roses, and who generally wither and decline until they rot away in small vases filled to the brim with martinis.

In the way of loathing his mother and father that Attilio had, without quarter, Oscar recognized his own. And it was the first thing that aroused his curiosity. That was why he had him tell the whole saga of his travels and his turmoils.

Attilio had gotten the hell out of Varese, and wound up in London. And since he didn’t know how to do anything, he decided to become an artist and enroll in film school. That was the first sound thing the young man had done—after previously smoking sufficient quantities of Afghan hash oil, he had experienced the infinite expansion of time itself. And that was his second good hunch, the basis for a short film in which he shot the four-second arc of his own ejaculation, and extracted two minutes and forty seconds of slow motion, with a hypnotic soundtrack of electronic music not unlike the old Pink Floyd. The title was practically longer than the film itself—The Curvature of Space-Time According to Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity as Applied to the Flight of My Bird—and opened many doors for him, stimulating the curiosity of the film critics, giving him access to two dozen film festivals around the world, and to a considerable number of young female film enthusiasts who wanted to experience the thrill of getting their faces splashed by the star of Attilio Fabris’s new opus.

If anything, his first feature-length movie prompted even more excitement. It was titled Wolves. It was the story of three young men with tough-guy expressions on their faces, studded leather jackets, and tattoos, who carry out a home invasion in a superdeluxe villa in the Lombard countryside, the home of a married couple in their fifties, a husband and wife, salt-and-pepper hair, slim, trim, and athletic, who for the first ten minutes of the movie do their best to talk the young thugs into sparing them any violence. But when the intruders snap out their

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