Opinion / Carlota Rebelo
Universal themes
I was nine when I first watched Cinema Paradiso, one of my mother’s favourite films. She wanted me to fall in love with the work of the Italian director Giuseppe Tornatore but instead it served as an introduction to the genius of Ennio Morricone (pictured) and the power of music. As a child it was hard to understand why a wordless classical music composition made me cry but Morricone taught sensibility and how music could be a character in itself, often telling you more than the lines in a script. It simply made you feel something and that, in itself, was everything.
Finding the right words to describe someone as groundbreaking as Morricone, who has died aged 91, is an almost impossible task. A composer, conductor and trumpet player, he composed scores for more than 500 films, over 100 concert pieces and numerous songs for artists including Paul Anka, Sting and Andrea Bocelli (you can clearly hear his pop brilliance on the 1960s Italian hit “Se telefonando” by Mina). His music has accompanied films by many of cinema’s foremost directors: Sergio Leone, Pier Paolo Pasolini, Pedro Almodóvar, Don Siegel, Brian De Palma, Oliver Stone, Roland Joffé, Quentin Tarantino and, of course, my mother’s favourite, Giuseppe Tornatore, with whom he collaborated on more than 10 films.
Two years ago, when Morricone announced he was retiring and embarking on a farewell world tour, I knew this was a concert that I couldn’t miss. I made a point of going alone: we two had shared so much – usually when one of his soundtracks was playing full blast in my living room – that a solitary farewell was only fitting. And there was something utterly transcendent about being in that packed arena in London alongside 20,000 people with tears streaming down their faces. To quote Morricone himself: “All music comes from another, far deeper place that exists beyond the real world of man.” Buon viaggio, maestro.