'Montalbano Sono'... my reasons for loving TV's Inspector Montalbano

It was the end of my summer - the 'working' holiday in Spain that I had been anticipating since April was over, and I was spending my last few hours in Madrid, with a crumpled map I had printed off the internet, trying to walk off a crippling hangover.  As is usual in these situations, I was filled with self-pity and regret.  Self-pity, mainly, because of the horrible headache that wouldn't go away and regret, mainly, at the belief that I would be in a fit enough state to go and see the Prada that day and the decision, therefore, to book an evening flight.  Of course, having been evicted from my hotel room, the only two options I had were to sit in a cafe somewhere (too painful, too hot) or walk.   

As it turns out, walking wasn't such a bad thing. It meant I got to see some more of Madrid - which, I'm a bit ashamed to say now,  I had written off as being 'not as good as Barcelona'.    However, despite the grandeur of the architecture, and the blessed relief of getting to sit under the shade in one of the municipal parks, the thing that really lifted my spirits was realising that I was standing near a street called 'Calle Montalban'.  Ok, not exactly 'Montalbano' but close enough to remind me that I had a new series of 'Inspector Montalbano' to look forward to when I got home.  When faced with a challenge (in this case, the thought of dragging my suitcase around the metro) sometimes it's the small things that count.

For the uninitiated, let me explain.  'Inspector Montalbano' (or Il commissario Montalbano) is an Italian TV series, based on a popular set of detective novels by the writer Andrea Camilleri.  The stories are set in the fictional Sicilian town of 'Vigata' and are centred around the extraordinary detective powers of one 'Salvo' or 'Commissario' Montalbano (played in the TV series by the equally extraordinary Luca Zingaretti).  The series first started airing on BBC 4 only a year or so ago, but it was first shown by the Italian station 'RAI' back in 1999. Thanks to an accompanying documentary, I have learnt that Camilleri's work is a classic example of the new breed of 'Italian Noir'.  I can't pretend I have a detailed knowledge of this.  In general, I'm not really a fan of detective fiction.  However, the programme was useful in pointing out a few key facts, both about Camilleri's world view and, by default, the world view of his brilliant, sincere but also highly comical alter-ego, Montalbano. 

So why does the Inspector Montalbano series hold such a special place in my heart?  I've already said I'm not really a fan of detective fiction.  I'm not even really a fan of detective shows.  It was first introduced to me by my Albanian husband, who had previously seen some of the early episodes whilst still living there (RAI being one of the most popular channels in Albania).  At first I really wasn't convinced - it all seemed a bit patriarchal and 'Italian' to me.  It is, in fact, very patriarchal and very Italian but, like anything, you quickly get used to it.  One of the funniest examples of this is Montalbano's 'relationship' with his long-suffering girlfriend, Livia.  Livia, for the most part, lives in somewhere in 'the North' and, in truth, we don't get to see much of her and neither does Montalbano.   When she turns up, they usually argue - either because of Livia's fury at, yet again, being palmed off at the expense of a crucial turn in a case or, occasionally, Montalbano's fury at Livia's apparently innocent friendships with other men (which all seems a bit rich frankly).  Nevertheless, until recently, their relationship rocked along at a safe and convenient distance, with Montalbano remaining a faithful, if almost non-existent, suitor.  Clearly, in more recent episodes, some pressure has come to bear on the programme-makers - Montalbano and Livia's relationship has taken a turn for the worse and Montalbano himself has started picking up beautiful young women (usually those attached to a case) like flies to shit.  He does this in a series of awkward (for the viewer that is) and sentimentalised 'romantic' encounters, accompanied by music that best belongs in a cheap, European soft-porn film.  As I said, all very patriarchal and Italian - but you get used to it.

The early episodes (in fact even the more up to date ones) are also curiously anachronistic, especially with regards to technology.  Of course, like his relationship with Livia, this is one of the great 'shticks' of Montalbano.   Even to this day, Montalbano and the majority of the crew at the Vigata police station he presides over, persist in the use of typewriters.  Now, I know we are talking Sicily here, but even I had a computer in 1999.  I am not sure what year this would have been, but at some point during the earlier episodes,  the station 'clown' (the well-loved Catarella - known primarily for his over-eager manning of the phones, comedy entrances and habit for getting names and words wrong) goes on a computer course and comes top of his class.  Catarella, as a result, becomes the only one apparently capable of using modern technology - to the point of obsession as it happens.   The brilliant Montalbano, one the other hand, is seen struggling with the use of a hand-held video recorder in one of the earlier episodes.  And I daren't even mention the size of his television.  

I could go on here.  For instance, why does Vigata never seem to have any people in it?  It seems like a fairly large town (in fact, most of it is shot in the popular holiday destination of Ragusa).  Where do they all go?  Also, for a police inspector, Montalbano seems to have a decidedly relaxed attitude to drink driving.  For instance, he was recently seen enjoying a romantic evening at his beautiful, beachfront apartment over a bottle of wine or three, before sending the poor, love-struck ingenue on her way with the words 'are you okay to drive home?'  This particularly amused our current Italian student, who recently passed his driving test and who will lose his license if even a whiff of alcohol is discovered on his breath.   He kept repeating the words 'he's a police inspector' between the laughter and the pointing.

There are so many things that you could pick holes in with this show and I have just started to do this myself, so I guess I had better redress the balance.  Of course, Zingeretti is the show's biggest draw and, without him,  I wouldn't be writing this now.  However, in the interests of saving the best till last, I am going to talk about some of its other saving graces first.   The only thing to do here, is revert to list format:

1.  It makes you want to visit Sicily...

I've already mentioned that a large part of the series is shot in the province of Ragusa, which I am told is a beautiful location to visit, even at the height of the tourist season (and with people in it).  For information, the beachfront scenes, are largely shot in Punta Secca, whilst other parts are filmed at various locations in south-eastern Sicily.  Sicily itself has a fascinating history, with remains dating back to the Norman conquest.  One day, I will go there but, until then, I will have to make do with this.  We usually record the show, as each episode is quite long at nearly two hours and can't always be done in one sitting.  This also ensures that I get to see the opening credits - a long, birds-eye camera swoop across the coast and into the region of Ragusa, accompanied by the lovely stacatto strains of a soundtrack written by Franco Piersanti....if that doesn't want to make you visit, nothing will.

Opening credits to Inspector Montalbano

2.  Storylines that sometimes make your head hurt...

One of the strengths of the show is that it is, apparently, very faithful to the novels and short stories of Camilleri.  One of Camilleri's strengths is his tendency to circumnavigate the obvious.  For instance, despite it's location, the Montalbano series does not really involve the Mafia.  The Mafia are merely a backdrop to a whole host of dirty dealings, corruption and vice.  This is a deliberate attempt by the author to avoid glamourising them, as well as a way of focusing on more interesting, human subjects than a well-organised bunch of career killers.  I understand that, as an author, he was keen to write his detective novels as a 'social commentary' and this is made clear in the series.  I particularly like the way that Italy's immigrant population is routinely included in the plots, as well as Montalbano's sympathetic treatment of them.  Camilleri's other strength is his ability to avoid wrapping the stories up in neat, morally unambiguous packages.  Killers, more often than not, fail to be brought to justice and Montalbano himself is fairly anti-establishment, making decisions based on his own conscience, rather the expectations of society or those in authority.  The best thing, however, is the complexity of the plots.  There are nearly always two running simultaneously in any episode.  Sometimes they converge and sometimes they don't.  All I know is that I gave up trying to predict the outcome a long time ago.  If you really want to know what's going on, you need to concentrate hard and sometimes even that doesn't work.  One time, my husband and I replayed the same scene three times in order to work out what had just happened.

3. It reminds me of Albania (in a way)...

Albanians pop up quite frequently in Inspector Montalbano stories.  Sometimes he is helping to get some wrongly accused Albanians out of jail, other times he is simply talking about getting information from the 'chubby Albanian' who controls a few of the local sex workers.  Albanians aren't demonised or canonised in this show.  They are just kind of 'there', usually getting up to something a bit dodgy but generally not doing any particular harm (well, apart from the pimping).  This is nice because it reminds me of Albania (in a way) and makes me feel a bit closer to my second 'home'.   Also, Sicilians share the same vocal 'tic' as Albanians...a kind of 'tch', teeth-sucking sound which means 'no' or 'of course not'.  I like that...

4. Supporting characters...

Based on my experience of the TV series, not much is known about Montalbano's background, aside from the fact that he had a fairly distant relationship with his father, who, in turn, owned a vineyard.  Montalbano's true family, it seems, are those he sees every day.  With most of them, you know what to expect from week to week.  There is 'Mimi' Augello, Montalbano's deputy and die-hard playboy, who continues his womanising ways, despite having been married off and becoming a father.  He is a loyal friend, but often too distracted by a beautiful woman to do any real detecting and constantly being upstaged by Montalbano.  Then, of course, there is Catarella, a farcical character who provides much of the comedy, although, in my humble opinion not the funniest bits (there are many who would disagree with this, however).  There is the gun-toting, reckless driver Galuzzo - actually one of my personal favourites, although I'm not sure why.  I think it is the paternal way in which Montalbano has to treat him most of the time (like a dad left in charge of an errant teenager) and, also, when I think of an Italian police officer, he is how I imagine most of them to be.  

Galuzzo with Montalbano

My favourite, however, is Fazio.  Partly, this is because he is such an obvious sweetie - with his big, brown eyes, loyalty to Montalbano and dedication to duty.  It is also, in part, due to his prediliction for warm, zip-up jumpers and brown leather jackets.  However, the best thing about Fazio is the competence and maturity that has grown with him over the years.  I know if I was a Vigata resident in need of police assistance, he would be the first person I would turn to. 

5. And finally...

I am not sure whether to start with Zingaretti or Montalbano.    Ok, I'll start with Zingaretti.  Montalbano will just have to follow in his wake.  First, it has to be said that he is a beautiful man.   He is also as physically dissimilar to the literary version of Montalbano as it is possible to be.  The 'real' Montalbano is tall and a bit overweight, with lots of hair.  Zingaretti is the opposite - and also devastatingly attractive in a kind of macho, Mediterranean 'I work out' kind of a way.   Now clearly as a woman I would say this, but he nevertheless does a brilliant job of interpreting Montalbano.  You might ask how I would know, having never read the books, but I know because there are lot of male, detective fiction lovers out there who agree with me (and they can't all be gay).  Most of all, Zingaretti does understated, comic timing particularly well and he seems to effortlessly capture the nuances of the Montalbano character - mainly that of irritation at the idiocy surrounding him, as well as the more pressing frustrations of having his meals and morning coffee interrupted.   

The point with Montalbano is that he is, at heart, a very decent human being and you get that with Zingaretti.  He is a versatile actor, who can be funny, sensitive and even frightening at times.    One of my favourite scenes took place after he was called on to attend the deathbed of a local Mafia don.  The Mafia figure talks movingly about his fear of death and Montalbano, despite his general antipathy, is clearly affected and offers words of consolation.   As he leaves the hospital room, another member of the police force (from another squad, presumably) makes an ill-advised comment, which results in Montalbano pinning him up against a wall, with his right index finger pointed menacingly at his head.  I liked that scene because it showed the flawed, human side of a character who could sympathise with a killer and be violent himself.  It was also unexpected and, like I say, a little frightening.  I had been told that Zingaretti was also well-known in Italy for playing a pretty horrible and sadistic Mafia boss, in the long-running saga, 'La Poivra' (The Octopus).  I found it quite hard to believe until I saw that scene.  

Another thing that Zingaretti does well is grief.  It is horrible to see Montalbano grieving - kind of like seeing your dad cry.   Thankfully, it has only happened twice.  The first time was during the episode where his father dies.  Here, Montalbano finds a moment of solitude and breaks down inconsolably.  I remember, I had to leave the room it was that intense.  The second was more recent, mourning the death of a lover, who never really became a lover.  I liked that scene because it was a repressed grief - mourning someone who, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he had no reason to mourn.  The storyline was, on the whole, fairly stupid on this point, but it never stopped Zingaretti being believable. And that is why I like him.  It's not the lovely eyes or the sex appeal - it's the acting.  And if you believe that, you will believe anything.

And on that note I think I really should stop, as this is all getting a bit fanatical, even for me.  I wish I was one of those Montalbano enthusiasts who could remember the names and events of every episode, if only because I could have kept this post more factual and less 'gushing'.   The truth is, though, that this series has become a bit of an institution in my house.  Unfortunately, the last episode of the most recent series was shown last weekend, so this has been my first weekend without it for some time.  It will be missed. BBC4 have shown 20 episodes so far.  I am unsure whether RAI are still making them, so it will be interesting to see what transpires.  I also understand that they have made a prequel - 'Young Montalbano'.  I'm not sure this will have quite the same appeal but I live in hope...