The “great beauty” of Luca Palamara


What a sad thing not to have ever received even a phone call, a text message, an emoticon in the shape of a “smile” from Luca Palamara. Just by him, a magistrate currently at the center of the most turbulent judicial reports, between interceptions and doubts about the exact conduct that a lawyer should assume. Nonsense, let’s go rather to the pulp, to the real narrative and spectacular lung that our story, decidedly Roman, returns, between the penthouses of the historic center and the roof terraces of the neighboring Prati district that connects Palazzaccio and Piazzale Clodio.

How can we not guess that we need to feel excluded, more, devoured by the feeling of having denied access to a world wonderfully, how to say, magical, anthropologically periscopic in the absence of a Palamara? It will not be exactly like entering the exclusive villa of “Eyes Wide Shut” in Kubrick through the password “Fidelio”, but almost.

Look at Luca Palamara, you contemplate the joy of living even in a sporting, football, worldly sense, and you immediately think that it would be wonderful to have one of your true friends exactly like him, a little Bruno Cortona from “Sorpasso” and a little ‘himself, Luca, yes, Luca Palamara, a member of the High Council of the Judiciary. Here he comes under your house, calls from the street, a horn sound and then, “… come on, get off!” And you: “To do what?” And he, Luca, in return: “Do not worry, come with me and you will see”. It would be splendid to be able to share the days, otherwise hostage of the tedium, with Palamara, even sitting in the back seat, observing him in his stops, while conversing, cell phone in hand, what a verve! I’m sure that suddenly, thanks to Luca Palamara, Rome would appear phantasmagoric, as you never would have imagined since the time of Via Veneto with King Faruk.

A mattatore, I said it, a real man of the world, other than a simple swampy magistrate, just as it was obligatory, at least once, to imagine them: severe grisaille, bifocal of turtle and cellometal, sometimes even the hernial belt, home and court, folders and, in the best of cases, a plate of slaps with pajata from “Checco er Carettiere”, just on Sunday, dutifully together with the family.

No, going out with Luca Palamara, you would have the feeling of how much the judiciary has changed since then, and, I repeat, above all how beautiful Rome is.

It is not excluded that, around him, you can even meet wonderful friends, young ladies who, you say, you thought existed only in the documentaries of “Donnavventura”, hats by Alviero Martini, sunstroke in the wind, women from contracted sponsors only to Rete4.

The story of Luca Palamara’s telephone newspaper makes you imagine, I know, villas with swimming pool in Olgiata or Ansedonia, and if once there you find that you don’t have a bathing suit, then your friend gets in the way: “Quiet , I always have two! ” And a moment later – splash! – even Infernetto or Vigna Stelluti seem to be transfigured into a painting by David Hockney, better much better than how a Malagò can offer you, always as a narrative suggestion.

And again: “You know, Luca, I like that actress, the blonde with the diastema who advertises the cheese …” And he: “What a problem there is, we invite you for the next charity match of the national magistrates”.

Now that I think about it, the person who, due to contagious verve and human talent, I feel to assimilate to Luca Palamara was an extraordinary poet who years and years ago lived in Piazza Santa Croce in Jerusalem, in front of the church that holds the nails of Christ’s torture , his name was Riccardo Panaccione, and through his eyes aboard his Citroen, Rome even seemed that places lit up as he passed; who wouldn’t want to have a friend like Riccardo was? And maybe the same goes for Luca Palamara.

If in the evening there is the concert, like, by Antonello Venditti or Ringo Starr, and, if canceled, the tickets are sold out, here in an instant Luca’s mind becomes fluorescent, and the tickets pop up, because he always knows who to turn to, really the least for men of the world; and a moment later the city also lights up, starting from the attics of Monti Parioli, and in backlight, from the street, it even seems to glimpse some splendid women, all similar to those of the spot of the Company of the Indies, who dance, so on Gramsci in Mostacciano, from piazza Bainsizza to lungotevere della Vittoria, where Moravia lived, where they also shot Sorrentino’s masterpiece dedicated to Rome, given that Luca Palamara surpasses them all, the characters of that film, including Lello Cava, that is the character of Carlo Buccirosso, the most experienced.

And to say that up to twenty years ago for “Palamara System”, always in Rome, we meant a way of building in the simplest and fastest way, as well illustrated by an advertising video broadcast by the private channel, TeleAmbiente, in the background music by Ennio Morricone for “Once upon a time in America”.

Naive, who does not understand that the Palamara affair transcends the classrooms of the Palaces of Justice, even transcends demagoguery, anti-justice, the Kafkaesque sentiment itself, as well as any reflection worthy of Leonardo Sciascia between “Todo modo” and “The context”, and the corruption of the judiciary, on the contrary tells Rome in its eternal substance. If, in fact, “The great beauty” was a scale model of the irredeemability of Rome, a simple maquette, Palamara’s story projects the city in full size.

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