The piazza: making of magic moments

And an evening at the festival in Piazza Grande is always magical; it really is. Because you really have to be there to see it, to understand what it means to have such a huge screen and so many people; even those who come on stage and introduce themselves to the audience are amazed by all the people in front of them, aren’t they?

Because there were evenings – I don’t know if the figures are exact – we’re not sure, but we exceeded 10,000 spectators, something that would be almost impossible today because there are entry checks, so at a certain point they stop, at 8,000, 8,500, they stop, they refuse entry. But actually, back then, the entry checks were a bit haphazard, so there were just people clicking, click, click, and no one said we had to stop, so they let us in, and so you could see the Piazza, but packed with people, with folding chairs, with deckchairs, with everything that allows you to sit down,  so it’s true there were a lot of people, and that was quite an extraordinary experience, seeing this Piazza straight away, where there was simply no more room to fit anyone else in.

The Piazza Grande is undoubtedly an absolute icon worldwide; it is the very identity of Locarno, without a doubt.  

It is a venue not designed for film screenings, where a projection structure has to be built from scratch.

Because, of course, the Piazza Grande’s projection system is, in any case, something made specifically for the Piazza, as there is nothing standard about it; everything was custom-made.

But back then, there was no talk of Layer systems or prefabricated structures; here we have a Varitech system consisting of steel tubes that are assembled, with poles driven 20 metres into the ground to absorb tensile and compressive forces. It’s a system that can be assembled and dismantled fairly quickly and easily, so let’s say it represented the state of the art at the time.

Then, over the years, things obviously changed; technologies had also evolved because, back in ’71, a relatively small scope-format screen had been installed, and one of the reasons for Patricia’s arrival at the Locarno Film Festival was precisely the improvement in, above all, the sound conditions on the Piazza Grande.

What makes the difference in Locarno is that we don’t project onto a wall or onto screens; the sound is like in a studio, so behind the screen. To be behind the screen, you need small holes. The small holes aren’t random; they’re here according to a very precise rule so that the sound is clear. We’ve adopted the exact same concept as in a studio, as if we were building a top-class cinema.

The technical side is top-notch, I believe, because they are specialists in this field; they’ve really grown in their expertise. Patricia and Elena also install cinemas; they installed the Cinémathèque in Lausanne, for example. These aren’t people who’ve just improvised as sound engineers for cinema spaces; and in terms of visuals too, they’re the ones who’ve made the screen bigger, brought the video projectors to the Piazza to screen the contributions, the audience, all these things, you see.  

But achieving a balanced sound in an open space like an open-air piazza wasn’t a given. 
Yes, when I started out, the seating consisted of the ring of red chairs – now yellow – in front of the stage, and then there were two rows of black chairs with a few more rows behind them. And there were two or three buses parked next to the Piazza Grande where we’d go to fetch the stools and small chairs, and that was enough, wasn’t it? Over the years, the numbers have kept growing. In recent years, we’ve been setting out 10,000–12,000 chairs on certain occasions, which has naturally meant we’ve had to increase the number of staff as well.

Piazza Grande wasn’t a pedestrian zone. As it wasn’t a pedestrian zone, we had to move the chairs out of the way to let vehicles through. So there was a whole team of people moving the chairs. I remember this square very well, where there were piles of chairs to let vehicles through the centre of the square.

In the early years, cars still parked in Piazza Grande, and not just in the early years, but right up until not so very long ago. So from the middle of Piazza Grande downwards, the cars had to be moved by 5 pm, 5.30 pm. And it happened almost every evening that one or two cars – either they hadn’t read the signs or hadn’t checked the time – we had to set out the chairs and the cars were still there. We’d call the tow truck and have them moved.  

It really created an incredible atmosphere because we’d be there – I can’t remember now if it was 6 o’clock or so – and in that half-hour or 40 minutes we had to go out and put all those chairs back in place that you had to clear away every day to let the cars and lorries through, the ones delivering goods to the co-op in the morning, for example. You had to position them properly and wait for the second screening to finish – if the first one went well, otherwise the second – and there we were split into two teams, in the sense that fewer people stayed for the second screening, and then afterwards everyone put everything back in place and we’d start again.

Before the lights came on – which meant the film had finished – the film’s credits would run for 10 minutes, and we’d start from the back, working our way towards the centre, slowly pulling the chairs away without making a sound. Then, as soon as the lights came on, the square would empty, and we’d be lightning fast – you, you, you, you, you – pulling all the chairs up. And I remember that anyway, when we got near the restaurants—which were closing at that time too—they’d be cleaning the terraces, tidying up the terrace and so on. We’d always get a few slices of pizza, a few packets of chips; in short, they’d give us a drink and the group would sit in the red chairs and just hang out there, laughing, joking, eating, drinking, and we’d often head home when the sun came out.

A little anecdote I was told – not first-hand – was that whoever supplied these chairs hadn’t taken into account that it rains, that it rains from time to time. And what happened? There was water in the chairs, and I was told that this person went and drilled a hole in every chair so that this problem wouldn’t occur.

The advantage of Piazza Grande is that it is enclosed on all sides, so at least the sound doesn’t dissipate. Sound is actually like an image; they are waves that reach us, lines we cannot see but which are there. And so Patricia’s task was to reproduce on Piazza Grande, as far as possible, what you achieve when you mix audio in a recording studio.  

Because in the Piazza there is no symmetry, there are no sound-absorbing walls placed in the right spots. There is a large screen, there are speakers placed on the balconies, on poles.

To decide when to put up the screen, we had to check with Moon&Stars to make sure they’d cleared the way so we could put it up; the screen is partly set up in the La Mappo-Morettina gallery, where there are warehouses storing things – you can’t just clear them out whenever you like, organise everything, or stop traffic at night to bring things out.  

There were about 20 people helping at 5 in the morning, because there was the least wind; there couldn’t be even a bit of wind, and if it rains there’s wind too, the wind picks up a bit. And then, if the wind fills the screen, you can’t hold it. I said this before in an interview: if the wind gets in, it becomes like a sail; you can only run, and then the screen breaks, and we only had one canvas.

It’s always given me immense pleasure to stand there watching what those 5, 6, 10 people do as they climb up like monkeys to that height.  

I remember years when the film would start in the Piazza; after one reel, it would start to rain, so everyone in the Piazza would get up, catch the buses, and head over to the Fevi. The first reel, once finished, would start again at the Fevi with a one-reel delay; they weren’t edited together anymore – we’d go down, the screening would take place, and sometimes it would start again.

And I remember this Fevi packed with people, the humidity from their bodies; it was madly hot, there was a sort of condensation in the air because you could really feel all the water everyone had got on them, it was quite palpable, there was a very thick atmosphere. But the fact remains that the film was still wonderful to watch. Or other times where, I mean, madness, but you ask yourself, why stand in the rain in the square to watch a film? But yes, I mean...

And when it rains, it rains. It rains on the square; you need a blanket of rain. Not an umbrella, a blanket of rain. And then the sound – we make do with what we’ve got. The picture – we make do with what we’ve got. Because, when it rains heavily, the rain falls on the screen. Falling on the screen, it’s like a film. The film runs across the screen. And it fills in the gaps. And filling in the gaps is like having a cold. That’s the situation. Then, as for the picture, we lose the brightness.  

We’ve had hail a couple of times too, a very heavy hailstorm that even damaged my car, which was in the square, but it didn’t do anything to the screen. Because obviously the screen is vertical, so the large hailstones didn’t damage the canvas. Nothing happened.

Speaking of heat, I remember that year of crazy heatwave, which was 2002, something like that, around then. Piazza Grande, I mean, it was something else... it was hard to stand there in the middle because it was really, really, really hot. So yes, I think that physically speaking, the heat is quite a defining factor. Especially the Piazza with 8,000 people after days of 45-degree heat, without a breath of wind. No, actually, the rain is also a very significant factor.

Fortunately, it’s rained less in recent years. You see, climate change, in a way, despite its disasters, means that in that situation, when it doesn’t rain—certainly for us, for everyone really, for the Film Festival itself—when it rains in the Piazza, it’s clearly less pleasant; afterwards, people head into the cinemas, the Rotonda; obviously, all outdoor activities face this problem if there’s heavy rain. And clearly the audience leaves; generally only the staff remain alone,  

In 1970, one day, we were at the Kursaal. In the afternoon, a storm began to break. We were watching a Bulgarian film at the Kursaal. It was a terrible storm. We didn’t know what was happening. The film stopped. Everything stopped. We went outside. It was raining very heavily. The lake began to rise, rise, rise. And around half past four, five o’clock, there was already water reaching the front of the Jelmoli – which later became a Globus – there was water right there in front of it.  

In 1978 there was the flood, the Piazza was closed, it was a terrible disaster, and so on, for the whole region. But the festival went on; that is, when it finished, well, there was a two or three-night break, and then it started again with ‘The Tree of Wooden Clogs’, a beautiful film by Ermanno Olmi that had won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, and even then the Piazza filled up with incredible dampness because the cobblestones of the Piazza were completely saturated – that is, the Piazza was saturated with water. There was no water on the ground anymore, but you could feel the dampness; in fact, one of my uncles came to watch it on stage in August, just to say that this is the charm of the Piazza.

But in August, when I used to go to the festival as a young man, the first August storm brought that air, that light, that temperature that you could only feel there. It was the beginning, as if to say, ‘summer is ending and autumn is about to begin’. And the festival was, in a way, a moment that broke this cycle, and I remember the nights in Piazza Grande had that feeling.

Experiencing a film with ten thousand people, laughing together, crying together – it gives you energy; it’s something truly magical. 

It’s also quite a sight when 10,000 people suddenly burst into applause.  

For example, I have fond memories of a film I saw in the square, *Speed*; within 30 seconds, we were all on the edge of our seats, completely gripped by this thrilling film.  

I imagine many will also have spoken of the evening in ’82, “La Notte Di San Lorenzo” by the Traviani brothers, where you could actually see the shooting stars on 10 August.

One of the absolute most entertaining moments I’ve experienced in Piazza Grande was the screening of the film “Lagaan”, which, incidentally, was a long film – at least, as I recall it now, it was a film lasting at least three hours. It was a moment of incredible camaraderie; people were there cheering on the two sides, and there was a total symbiosis between the Piazza and the film.  

Because, of course, the sensation of the air, the atmosphere, the sky – the night sky over the Piazza – added to it all. The fascination of the Piazza is something that exists only in Locarno.