Acknowledgments

If it is true, as Benjamin writes, that “the work is the death mask of its conception,” then the circumstances of this conception, which are always collective, are inevitably inscribed in the work itself. These circumstances include nothing less than a global pandemic, whose hardships only put further into relief how truly exceptional the support I received while working on this book has been.

The University of Maryland has provided a supportive and invigorating intellectual environment. My research has benefited from the Graduate School Research and Scholarship Award (RASA), which allowed me to focus on writing at a crucial moment. The semester’s leave offered by my institutional home, the School of Languages, Literatures, and Cultures, also played a decisive role in the completion of this book, as did the Jonathan Auerbach Cinema and Media Studies Research Award sponsored by the Program in Cinema and Media Studies. Open access for this book was made possible by a generous TOME grant (Toward an Open Monograph Ecosystem) awarded by the University of Maryland Libraries.

At Maryland, I have been fortunate to work with an extraordinary group of colleagues. This book would not exist in its current form without Luka Arsenjuk’s patient and careful engagement with the text and our myriad comradely conversations. His sharpness, rigor, and generosity are unmatched, and the singular way he blends the three constitutes a source of continued inspiration for me. He is a master of that unique type of brilliant, cutting critique a writer simply cannot afford to ignore (as much as he would prefer to!). I take it as a testament to his commitment to the work itself beyond any futile narcissism of the authorial ego—and the book is immeasurably better for it. I could hardly be more grateful for his and Lindsey Muniak’s friendship, which provided much-needed respite from the struggles of writing on more occasions than I can count. Hester Baer has been a mentor and a friend. Her advice on all matters has been invaluable, and I take her constant presence and support as an exemplar of what mentorship in academia should look like. I can only hope to live up to the high standard she has set. Eric Zakim witnessed the exhilarating confusion of this project in its early days and has unwaveringly supported its development ever since. Saverio Giovacchini has provided crucial historical insight; in particular, his comments on the contested legacy of neorealism in Italian political cinema have been illuminating.

My appreciation goes to all my colleagues in the School of Languages, Literatures, and Cultures, its leadership and administrative staff. In particular, I wish to thank my colleagues in the Program in Cinema and Media Studies for their engagement with my work at various points: Valerie Anischenkova, Mércedès Baillargeon, Caroline Eades, Oliver Gaycken, Jason Kuo, Valérie K. Orlando, and Elizabeth A. Papazian. My gratitude also goes to my colleagues in the Italian program: Giuseppe Falvo, who since the very beginning of my time at Maryland did everything in his power to make me feel welcome and make my job as easy as possible; Stefania Amodeo, whose witty one-liners and gentle poking (“Allora, hai finito ’sto libro?”) have been one of the soundtracks of my writing; and Valeria Federici, with whom I share an interest in the art and politics of the Italian long ’68. Several of the arguments presented in this book were originated or verified in class, and I am immensely thankful to the students in my undergraduate courses on the history of Italian cinema and the cinema of the long ’68. They weathered my lectures on Italian radical politics and history with heroic fortitude, and offered sharp and passionate commentaries of the assigned films. Their brilliance and steadfast commitment to imagining a better world never cease to amaze me.

Parts of this book have been presented at conferences and invited talks at the Cinema Studies Institute at the University of Toronto; the John Hope Franklin Humanities Institute at Duke University; and the University of Massachusetts, Boston. My deepest gratitude goes to Brian Price and Meghan Sutherland, dear friends and true believers in the collective nature of intellectual endeavors. They supported my work with uncommon kindness and enthusiasm, and for that I am humbled. Roberto Dainotto, Cesare Casarino, Rijuta Mehta, Antoine Traisnel, and Anna Fisher offered comments and encouragement at crucial junctures of the writing process. Many thanks to Marco Natoli, one of the last true cinephiles roaming this earth. My conversations with him were instrumental in establishing the corpus of films discussed in these pages, and without his help in securing copies of the most elusive ones, this book may not have been written at all.

I thank Leah Pennywark, Jason Weidemann, and Anne Carter at the University of Minnesota Press for their help and support during an impossibly difficult time. My gratitude also goes to Eric Lundgren for guiding me through the process to obtain open access for the book, and to Karen Hellekson for her careful, eagle-eyed copyediting. The book was improved by the thoughtful comments of two anonymous readers.

Welcome interruptions to the solitary regime of writing were provided by friends old and new, near and far. I thank them all, in particular Andrea Bellavita, who kindly invited me to give a lecture at the Università dell’Insubria in Varese; Eric Doyle; and Christian Massari and Elisa Chierici, who made me feel at home as I was starting to write this book on a summer stay in Perugia. I am grateful for my comrades in the Capital reading group: Josh Kiner, Luka Arsenjuk, and my brother, Fabio Resmini. Fabio is one of my most perceptive readers, and his humor has been a panacea through hard times. A special grazie to my uncle, Sergio Gualano, who graciously made time to talk to me about his experience on the front lines of radical leftist struggle in Milan in the 1970s.

My parents, Lia e Renato Resmini, have been hearing about this book for years on end. They may think that their contribution is limited to storing in their apartment piles of newly purchased Italian books for me. Not so. Their support, both material and immaterial, extends far beyond, and I am thankful for it.

Finally, my gratitude goes to Viviana Maggioni. Without her, this book would read much differently: less lively, less lucid, and—I have no doubt—less finished. She tirelessly reminded me how crucial clarity is, against the temptation of an obscurity often mistaken for complexity. She is truly an engineer of the rarest ilk: one who values pragmatism but is also eager to improvise—and improvise she did, her support and encouragement coming in countless ways. All the poroi through the many impasses I encountered in writing this book are inflected by her poise and creativity. Sometimes it was the result of our wandering and musing through city streets or mountain trails. Others, it was simply about her showing me that the possibility of a way through was indeed there: one just had to invent it.