This is the end. The comedy was amazing, but the last act brought sadness.
Someone remarked on the cleansing power of the rain. It was pouring, and it was perfect. Jacopo Fo, before departing toward the Cimitero Monumentale, greeted the crowd at the Duomo square with an ancient gesture, the clenched fist: “Thanks comrades, thank you.” He said comrades. This is the end of the show. This is what concerns us.
The son cried during the speech, but there was a moment, just one, when he also tried to comfort us with a joke. Like Dario Fo. “We are communists and atheists because my father never stopped talking to my mother and ask for her advice. We are also a bit animists, because you cannot really die, come on! I’m sure they are now together laughing hard.” Communists and atheists. Another thing that concerns us. The facade of the Duomo, swollen with rain, looks bigger than it is.
Thousands of people hiding under umbrellas greeted Dario Fo for the last time. Not too many. The square was not as full as it could have been. Or should have been. Many others have remained hidden at home. Even in death, the Nobel Prize continues to divide and provoke both the right and left. A sign of vitality, an open wound which must be dealt with. The opportunities will not fail. In Milan, it is now the time for monuments to the memory of a genius, albeit posthumously.