The actress Clare Francini brings his monologue to the Ariston stage during the fourth evening of the Sanremo Festival, the one dedicated to duets.
«First of all, I’ll try to have fun and bring all the Chiara I have. I am very happy, very grateful to Amadeus for being here. I feel lucky. The topic will be something that strictly concerns my human journey. It is a monologue that I wrote with great truth and I will try to bring all my facets. There will be ironic moments and other colors of this rainbow» anticipated Francini at the press conference, who she did not start her Festival by going down the steps, but «since I am a humble, provincial girl, I prefer to watch Sanremo from the audience». Chiara Francini, 43 years old, Tuscan actress with a squared accent that she uses as a weapon to spread sympathy, immediately wanted to leave her signature. Monologue included. Very personal. There comes a moment in life when it is clear that you have grown up: when you have a child – the actress began -. Now, Chiara, I don’t have a son, but I think it’s something after which it’s clear you won’t be as young as you were at sixteen, with a moped, a disco and high school. And there comes a time in life when everyone around you starts to calve. It’s an avalanche. But… always start with someone you knew would become a mother first of all. In my case, Lucia. There was one day, a few years after high school, that Lucia asked me to meet. We were sitting at the pool bar, she looked at me all excited … and at one point, with a face I’d never seen before she said to me: “ODDIOOOOO !!! Finally I can tell you! I’m pregnant!”. Pregnant. When someone tells you she’s pregnant and you’ve never been, you never know what to do.’
It’s still: “When someone tells you she’s pregnant and you’ve never been there’s like something exploding inside you. A kind of hole that opens up in the middle of your vital organs, a kind of fear, daze, and while all this is happening, you have to celebrate, because pregnant people are violent and just want to be celebrated. And there’s no room for your pain, for your loneliness. You have to celebrate. Like the Christmas tree that I keep lit all year round in the living room, an absolutely senseless Christmas tree that keeps on turning on its lights, even in July, out of time. A continuous party without any nativity. And I celebrated. “But Lucia, but it’s wonderful!” … And then, not knowing what to say anymore. And that was just the beginning, because before long it seemed to me that everyone around me had, was having, would have a child. Strollers, strollers everywhere. An army of short-haired women and paunchy balding males pushing strollers with monstrous, loving babies inside. And me, me who kept doing my things better and better, with more and more people looking at me and loving me».
“And then. And then at a certain point I realized that time was passing and that if I didn’t hurry up, perhaps I would never have a child. And even if I hurried, then, it was not said. Because even when you decide that it’s the right time, maybe your body gives you the middle finger and then you’re left with the doubt that you waited too long, that you’re a failure. The hardest part of having a child is imagining it. Imagine how it will be. What if I don’t agree with anything he does in his life? What if he comes too different from me? In my case for sure he will be different from me! But I would like to know how I do with you, child? You weren’t born yet and we already don’t understand each other. Being the son of a mother like me will only cause you problems. If you are male I know and almost hope that you will be gay and I will love you so much. But maybe I wish you weren’t, because it will be more difficult and I wish it were easy for you. Please come on bright, with the joke ready. Hate, hate, hate what should be hated, evil, injustice, because it is with that hatred that things are done. It’s not true that it’s done with love. Yes, with love you do things, but the big part is done with that hate there. Deep, visceral, tireless. Please don’t be one of those helpless, too good creatures. Why then would I have to try to defend you all the time. And there is the risk that you will grow up less able to look, to walk. I would like to do like my mother that she never took me in her bed. You will cry in your bed. I must be strong enough to let you cry. I mustn’t be weak.”
Then the introspection continued: «But do you see how I speak? It seems that everything depends on me, as if you didn’t already exist before you existed. Somewhere I think I’m a shitty woman because I don’t know how to cook, because I didn’t get married and because I didn’t have children. I know rationally that it is not so, but somewhere inside me there is this voice, it exists, and in the end I think she’s right, that I’m wrong. And I already know, child, you will take away all my creativity, all the light, there will be only you at the center of the scene and I will be a simple extra and then I will grow up and then old and I will no longer be able to pretend that time is not passing, because there will always be you, there, to remind me at all times that my youth is over. And I think you’ll make me so happy, that you won’t really make me that happy, because that’s how things in life work: they’re never what you expected. And I wait for you and I want you so much that you’re bound to be a disappointment. But how do I speak…? But which mother am I? Not yet I’m not a mother… But how much did it cost me to become what I am? How much will it cost you? And in the midst of all this need to arrive, in the midst of all this anger, this love, now I don’t know where to put you. Or maybe it’s really you who doesn’t want to come to me, because you think I’ve forgotten about you, that I’ve forgotten about life. But I just wanted to be good, I just wanted to be prepared, I just wanted you to be proud of me. Even if you’re not there yet. Maybe because you’ve always been there.’
