Montalbano and the feminist (oh, no!!)
Earlier this year Italy’s national broadcasting company RAI aired two new episodes of the Il Commissario Montalbano series. Although this is the tenth season of a series that started in 1999, the Italian public shows no signs of tiring of the Sicilian detective and his travails. More than 10 million people watched the first new episode. The phenomenally successful series has been broadcast in 18 countries, has had a spin off series (“The Young Montalbano”), and even two comic books with a Mickey Mouse adaptation (“Topalbano”).
How universally appealing the series really is, I realized when my daughters started to join me when I was watching the series. Normally they don’t like crime stories and run as soon as a corpse makes it onto the screen. Plus I was watching the episodes in Italian with English subtitles. Neither of my daughters speaks Italian and English is only their second language. Nonetheless they were hooked as soon as they had laid eyes on the short, bald man with bow legs and his colleagues – soulful and conscientious Fazio, womanizer Mimì and lovable buffoon Catarella. (1)
There are many reasons why this series is so popular, but it can hardly be its progressive portrayal of men and women. Italian sociologist Gianfranco Marrone stated categorically that the main character is chauvinistic and misogynistic. I don’t want to go there and am more interested in recurrent patterns in the portrayal of women.
The most obvious recurrent pattern is that in nearly every episode the detective sooner or later finds himself embroiled in a relationship with an exceptionally attractive young woman. These women are invariably a good deal younger yet immediately sexually attracted to him. He nearly always lets them down (gently), because he wants to remain faithful to his partner Livia. It’s easy to question or ridicule this recurrent storyline. But again I don’t want to go there since it is a time honoured, very Sicilian, conceit – the thrill of a possible sexual adventure/love, not to be played out and thus morally safe – to keep the audience interested. It’s a perfect ploy really. Men like Montalbano, because he seems to prove that animal magnetism is more a matter of personality than youthful good looks. Women love him, because – unlike Mimí – he strays so rarely.
Montalbano has a long distance relationship with Livia, who isn’t Sicilian and lives in Northern Italy. Livia is the embodiment of an emancipated, modern woman: astute, well-educated, financially independent, sexually confident yet not aggressively so. She’s also a stunning, blue-eyed blonde. The film team clearly considered this character so remote from Italian reality that they needed a foreign actress to portray this incarnation of every Italian man’s dream/nightmare. From season 1-8 Livia was portrayed by an Austrian, during season 9 by a Swedish actress (Katharina Böhm, Lina Perned). The actresses, who fitted the bill so perfectly otherwise, either don’t speak Italian fluently enough or not at all, so they had to be dubbed by an Italian actress. A process that proved so cumbersome in the end that the production team caved in and entrusted an Italian actress with this extremely demanding role (Sonia Bergamasco). Although Livia is very attractive and independent, her life is not enviable. Her relationship with Montalbano is often fraught, and she’s repeatedly shown to be pining for marriage and motherhood. We don’t see all that much of Livia, though, since she’s usually safely tucked away in the northern town of Genoa. One thing we do know about her, however, is that (for most of the series) she and Adelina, Montalbano’s housekeeper, can’t stand each other. That isn’t surprising since the two women seem to have nothing in common.
Adelina is an archetype in her own right. Although probably not much older than Livia, she is her complete opposite. Adelina is a matronly Sicilian, speaks in dialect and clearly has had very little schooling. She’s an excellent cook and housekeeper and proves herself to be a warm and welcoming hostess. She never bothers with makeup and invariably wears a smock or equally plain dress. Pragmatic and cheerful, she keeps things running smoothly without the help of her two sons who are good-for-nothings and in and out of prison all the time. Like Livia, Adelina is very attached to Montalbano, but in a motherly way. The film team had no qualms about finding Italian actresses to play her.
Montalbano’s best friend, Ingrid Sjöström, is another incarnation of the emancipated, northern European blonde. Hard drinking and promiscuous, Ingrid is a great socialite. She knows about the ways of the world and provides a shoulder to cry on, or assistance, when needed. But underneath all that bonhomie, she -- like Livia -- seems lonely. Needless to say another non-Italian actress was needed to play her. In her case it makes more sense, though, since the character is Swedish.
What fascinates me most, however, is the portrayal of (Italian) older women in the series. Once the female characters have passed the nubile age (let’s say forty), they abruptly cease to be attractive. Not only in a sexual way, but also as human beings. They become more or less harmless old biddies or nasty, scheming furies. Quite a few develop an unhealthy obsession with religion (2). A fair number are terrible gossips who love to bad mouth others (3). If not pious they are politically archconservative (4). Others are so consumed by jealousy they are willing to destroy someone’s life or reputation (5). Two are completely unable to face up to reality and live in their own world (6). Occasionally an older woman is portrayed more sympathetically. Although these women appear to be content with their lot, they are shown to live solitary and ineffectual lives (7).
There are two notable exceptions to this tendency to portray older women as dried up or frustrated sexual beings: one is a woman in her forties, the other in her sixties. Both are kind, attractive, well-preserved women. Both are leading difficult lives with great fortitude and dignity. And both are prostitutes. One episode offers a middle-aged nymphomaniac (Age of Doubt), but she’s not meant to be an attractive character. It seems as if the woman needs to be paid for the continued sexual activity to be acceptable (and believable) (8).
I genuinely love the Montalbano series and don’t intend to take it apart. But I suspect that its phenomenal success is partly due to its rather backward looking portrayal of society. It follows that many viewers prefer to perceive women in the way the series portrays them. Fortunately, it doesn’t mean that that is how women (of any age) actually are.
(After seeing the episodes of 2019, I'd like to add that some of what I've written here, doesn't apply to the series as a whole. I'm leaving the text as it is, however, since this page has turned out to be the most frequently read. Many thanks for taking an interest!)
(1) It’s no secret that the various casts offer wonderful performances, and create believable and unforgettable characters. Of the supporting actors two still stand out, I think, because they deliver such incredible and perfectly calibrated performances. I’ m thinking of Nellina Laganà in Wings of the Sphinx as the duped wife and Angelo Tosto as “Figlio di Fortuna” Biago in Equal Time.
(2) In Treasure Hunt a woman and her brother turn their house into a shrine. One female character in The Goldfinch and the Cat has plastered her hallway with pictures of saints, another in the same episode is equally pious, yet another pays a religious clairvoyant huge sums.
(3) Unlikeable gossips are the upper class lady in Angelica’s smile and the cleaner in a Hall of Mirrors.
(4) There’s an enthusiastic monarchist in The Potter’s field.
(5) In Paper Moon a middle-aged woman kills her brother out of (sexual) jealousy. In Una faccenda delicata a woman spreads rumours about a teacher molesting her child, because he ended their affair.
(6) The female character, who kills her employer in The Scent of Night, seems to have retreated into a world of her own since childhood. In the Wings of the Sphinx a wife continues to believe against all evidence that her husband has been kidnapped (instead of running off).
(7) In A Voice in the Night an elderly widow admits to passing her days on her balcony.
(8) The prostitutes feature in The Spider’s Patience and in the new episode: Una faccenda delicata (2016). There’s a general tendency to portray prostitutes as strong and admirable characters. Another example is the young African woman in The Shape of Water.
How universally appealing the series really is, I realized when my daughters started to join me when I was watching the series. Normally they don’t like crime stories and run as soon as a corpse makes it onto the screen. Plus I was watching the episodes in Italian with English subtitles. Neither of my daughters speaks Italian and English is only their second language. Nonetheless they were hooked as soon as they had laid eyes on the short, bald man with bow legs and his colleagues – soulful and conscientious Fazio, womanizer Mimì and lovable buffoon Catarella. (1)
There are many reasons why this series is so popular, but it can hardly be its progressive portrayal of men and women. Italian sociologist Gianfranco Marrone stated categorically that the main character is chauvinistic and misogynistic. I don’t want to go there and am more interested in recurrent patterns in the portrayal of women.
The most obvious recurrent pattern is that in nearly every episode the detective sooner or later finds himself embroiled in a relationship with an exceptionally attractive young woman. These women are invariably a good deal younger yet immediately sexually attracted to him. He nearly always lets them down (gently), because he wants to remain faithful to his partner Livia. It’s easy to question or ridicule this recurrent storyline. But again I don’t want to go there since it is a time honoured, very Sicilian, conceit – the thrill of a possible sexual adventure/love, not to be played out and thus morally safe – to keep the audience interested. It’s a perfect ploy really. Men like Montalbano, because he seems to prove that animal magnetism is more a matter of personality than youthful good looks. Women love him, because – unlike Mimí – he strays so rarely.
Montalbano has a long distance relationship with Livia, who isn’t Sicilian and lives in Northern Italy. Livia is the embodiment of an emancipated, modern woman: astute, well-educated, financially independent, sexually confident yet not aggressively so. She’s also a stunning, blue-eyed blonde. The film team clearly considered this character so remote from Italian reality that they needed a foreign actress to portray this incarnation of every Italian man’s dream/nightmare. From season 1-8 Livia was portrayed by an Austrian, during season 9 by a Swedish actress (Katharina Böhm, Lina Perned). The actresses, who fitted the bill so perfectly otherwise, either don’t speak Italian fluently enough or not at all, so they had to be dubbed by an Italian actress. A process that proved so cumbersome in the end that the production team caved in and entrusted an Italian actress with this extremely demanding role (Sonia Bergamasco). Although Livia is very attractive and independent, her life is not enviable. Her relationship with Montalbano is often fraught, and she’s repeatedly shown to be pining for marriage and motherhood. We don’t see all that much of Livia, though, since she’s usually safely tucked away in the northern town of Genoa. One thing we do know about her, however, is that (for most of the series) she and Adelina, Montalbano’s housekeeper, can’t stand each other. That isn’t surprising since the two women seem to have nothing in common.
Adelina is an archetype in her own right. Although probably not much older than Livia, she is her complete opposite. Adelina is a matronly Sicilian, speaks in dialect and clearly has had very little schooling. She’s an excellent cook and housekeeper and proves herself to be a warm and welcoming hostess. She never bothers with makeup and invariably wears a smock or equally plain dress. Pragmatic and cheerful, she keeps things running smoothly without the help of her two sons who are good-for-nothings and in and out of prison all the time. Like Livia, Adelina is very attached to Montalbano, but in a motherly way. The film team had no qualms about finding Italian actresses to play her.
Montalbano’s best friend, Ingrid Sjöström, is another incarnation of the emancipated, northern European blonde. Hard drinking and promiscuous, Ingrid is a great socialite. She knows about the ways of the world and provides a shoulder to cry on, or assistance, when needed. But underneath all that bonhomie, she -- like Livia -- seems lonely. Needless to say another non-Italian actress was needed to play her. In her case it makes more sense, though, since the character is Swedish.
What fascinates me most, however, is the portrayal of (Italian) older women in the series. Once the female characters have passed the nubile age (let’s say forty), they abruptly cease to be attractive. Not only in a sexual way, but also as human beings. They become more or less harmless old biddies or nasty, scheming furies. Quite a few develop an unhealthy obsession with religion (2). A fair number are terrible gossips who love to bad mouth others (3). If not pious they are politically archconservative (4). Others are so consumed by jealousy they are willing to destroy someone’s life or reputation (5). Two are completely unable to face up to reality and live in their own world (6). Occasionally an older woman is portrayed more sympathetically. Although these women appear to be content with their lot, they are shown to live solitary and ineffectual lives (7).
There are two notable exceptions to this tendency to portray older women as dried up or frustrated sexual beings: one is a woman in her forties, the other in her sixties. Both are kind, attractive, well-preserved women. Both are leading difficult lives with great fortitude and dignity. And both are prostitutes. One episode offers a middle-aged nymphomaniac (Age of Doubt), but she’s not meant to be an attractive character. It seems as if the woman needs to be paid for the continued sexual activity to be acceptable (and believable) (8).
I genuinely love the Montalbano series and don’t intend to take it apart. But I suspect that its phenomenal success is partly due to its rather backward looking portrayal of society. It follows that many viewers prefer to perceive women in the way the series portrays them. Fortunately, it doesn’t mean that that is how women (of any age) actually are.
(After seeing the episodes of 2019, I'd like to add that some of what I've written here, doesn't apply to the series as a whole. I'm leaving the text as it is, however, since this page has turned out to be the most frequently read. Many thanks for taking an interest!)
(1) It’s no secret that the various casts offer wonderful performances, and create believable and unforgettable characters. Of the supporting actors two still stand out, I think, because they deliver such incredible and perfectly calibrated performances. I’ m thinking of Nellina Laganà in Wings of the Sphinx as the duped wife and Angelo Tosto as “Figlio di Fortuna” Biago in Equal Time.
(2) In Treasure Hunt a woman and her brother turn their house into a shrine. One female character in The Goldfinch and the Cat has plastered her hallway with pictures of saints, another in the same episode is equally pious, yet another pays a religious clairvoyant huge sums.
(3) Unlikeable gossips are the upper class lady in Angelica’s smile and the cleaner in a Hall of Mirrors.
(4) There’s an enthusiastic monarchist in The Potter’s field.
(5) In Paper Moon a middle-aged woman kills her brother out of (sexual) jealousy. In Una faccenda delicata a woman spreads rumours about a teacher molesting her child, because he ended their affair.
(6) The female character, who kills her employer in The Scent of Night, seems to have retreated into a world of her own since childhood. In the Wings of the Sphinx a wife continues to believe against all evidence that her husband has been kidnapped (instead of running off).
(7) In A Voice in the Night an elderly widow admits to passing her days on her balcony.
(8) The prostitutes feature in The Spider’s Patience and in the new episode: Una faccenda delicata (2016). There’s a general tendency to portray prostitutes as strong and admirable characters. Another example is the young African woman in The Shape of Water.