The name of Italian composer Carlo Rustichelli is inseparably tied to the career of film director Pietro Germi. Rustichelli wrote the scores for all of Germi’s pictures (except “Il testimone”, 1946), including “Amici miei”, which had to be interrupted because of the director’s illness. Fellow director Mario Monicelli completed the movie using Germi’s copious notes. The relationship of composer to director, and their practice of discussing the music to reach a better treatment of the picture’s subject – not a day-to-day discussion but one spread over a period of a dozen years – permits many musicians to express themselves to the best of their abilities. For example, the partnerships Cicognini/De Sica, the two Rossellini brothers, Rota/Fellini, and so many others outside of Italy, such as Delerue/Truffaut in France, Walton/Olivier in England, or Herrmann/Hitchcock in the United States. It is necessary to make this premise in order to effectively evaluate Rustichelli’s work in films. Carlo Rustichelli was born in Carpi (Modena), a large village in Emilia, on December 24, 1916. His family didn’t have a musical tradition, but he soon became interested in music along with his brothers and sisters. After a period as lead singer in the local church, he began studying violincello and later piano at the Academia Filarmonica in Bologna. Young Rustichelli felt that his studies were still insufficient, and he left Bologna for Rome in 1940 in order to study composition and conducting under Dobici. So began his career as a conductor, with engagements as a musical director in opera houses at Reggio Emilia, Carpi, Modena, Spoleto, and Pescara. By 1941 he had already been approached to compose the main themes for “Gli ultimi filibustieri” and “Il figlio del Corsaro Nero”, the first of which was scored for a chorus. It was then he met Pietro Germi, then a screenplay writer, for the first time. Several years later, Germi recalled Rustichelli’s work on these two movies and asked him to compose the score for “Gioventu’ perduta” (1947). That year Rustichelli became a full-time film composer. In 1948 Germi director “In nome della legga”, one of the first pictures which treated the Mafia as a social instead of as an individual problem. Set in Sicily, where primitive passions would result in violence and anonymous crime, Rustichelli’s music was a symphonic commentary with rich themes and rhythms which depicted a secluded Sicily, forever set in its timeless ways and traditions. In this first full-length film score, little was allowed towards sentimentality. During the picture a kind of Spanish-Arabian serenade was heard in the background, which Rustichelli later re-used with different orchestrations in “Divorzio all’ Italiana”. It was wholly based on a symphonic movement with percussion representing a vision of tragedy – a personal interpretation of Sicily in musical terms. Germi’s next movie was “Il camino della speranza”, depicting the odyssey of several expatriated Sicilians trying to enter France illegally and look for work. A very human picture, with a melancholy theme that supports the characters throughout the film and represents their nostalgia for the country and for the village they have left forever. The screenplay is effective and highly realistic, right up to the ending where some superstitious emigrants try to cross France’s Alpes Maritimes during a snow storm. At this moment the entire orchestra cuts in, depicting the snow storm by means of an organ, horns, tambourines, and violins, the whole sequence written in symphonic style. From a musicsal point of view, the scene remains the most beautiful as well as the most moving one of the entire picture, both score and direction jelling perfectly. The profitable association with Germi continued in 1951 with “La citta si difende” and “Il brigante di taco del lupo”, and two years later the director returned to Sicily for “Gelosia”; Rustichelli gave this movie an uncanny sense of threatening tragedy, which came naturally to him in view of his earlier film assignments. Unfortunately no soundtrack albums of these films were ever released, though it is of course still possible to see these pictures on TV and perhaps tape the entire movie. In those days the bad habit didn’t exist (nowadays largely followed by new composers of few ideas) or writing one or two themes and repeating them throughout the movie in countless variations – until boredom sets in – by using different musical instruments; a film score supports a movie from beginning to end and implies a complete dedication of the composer as well as a meeting of the minds between composer and director. A picture should be scored scene-by-scene. It is inconceivable that a movie be scored without having seen the entire film; it is equally inconceivable that a composer permit himself the luxury of working on five or six assignments all at once, often the case in Italy. When Germi directed “Il Ferroviere” in 1955, Carlo Rustichelli composed a beautiful score for guitar which expressed an endless melancholy – a theme he later re-used as leitmotiv in orchestral form for those of Germi’s films in which he needed to express family problems. In would he hard to assess to what extent the score contributed to the success of this picture, but the music certainly caused Rustichelli’s reputation to spread outside of Italy, at the same time furthering the career of many Italian film composers who also became well-known in other countries. In composing this score, Rustichelli offered proof of his versatility by tying story to characters, and painting a clouded atmosphere in pure musical terms. The main theme of “Il Ferroviere”, once released on a single (a vocal sung by the composer’s daughter, Alida Chelli, and conducted by a then-unknown Ennio Morricone) years after the movie, appeared for the first time – in a re-orchestrated version – on the album “Carlo Rustichelli: Colonne sonore di film di Pietro Germi” (CAM SAG 33 LP 9059). Three years later Germi director “L’uomo di paglia”, and Carlo Rustichelli again composed an exemplary score which went extremely well with the mood of the picture – not unlike his music for “Ferroviere” in some respects, but with both different instruments (organ, guitar) and a different musical approach: an extremely sober score, genuinely Italian without concession to that commercialism used by some colleagues (Lai, Cipriani…) to describe impossible or tragic love. For this music, Rustichelli was awarded the Nasto a’Argento’ (‘Silver Ribbon’) in 1959 for Best Film Score. The Nastro d’Argento’, soon commercially exploited, is comparable to the American Oscar for Best Music Score. To analyze one-by-one all the scores Rustichelli wrote for Germi’s films would require a dozen pages. Also, not all of Germi’s pictures have been shown outside of Italy, and a detailed discussion might not be advisable. The scores already mentioned are of definite cultural value, written by a composer who had been able to integrate situations and events into that imaginary world conjured up by director Pietro Germi. A year later, Rustichelli once again teamed up with Germi on a psychological thriller called “Un maledetto imbroglio”, this time composing a lively score which spawned a song called ‘Sinno me moro’ – which went on to become Italy’s best-selling hit song in 1959-1960; the main theme would change from a symphonic poem into a light and sunny Mediterranean melody which sounded completely ‘Italian’. If a comparison were possible, I’d suggest the well-known symphonic poem Fontane di Roma by Respighi, which creates a similar Mediterranean mood. There was no Italian composer comparable to Carlo Rustichelli when it came to scoring films with such dedication and such feeling. “Kapo”, “Divorzio all’Italiana”, and “Le Quattro giornate di Napoli” are revealed beyond the shadow of a doubt as exemplary scores which cannot be divorced from the movies. They are compositions which can be listened to ‘cold’, of considerable intrinsic value far beyond the original musical purpose. Rustichelli gave “Kapo” a score in complete accordance with the picture’s unhappy events: the story is set in a concentration camp, where a young girl (turned collaborator in order to survive) falls in love with a Russian prisoner and earns redemption by sacrificing herself in order to save other prisoners during an escape attempt. The electric current running through the concentration camp’s surrounding fence is musically conveyed by a drawn-out and dissonant theme that stresses the horrible daily life of the POWs. A solo for clavecimbel takes the young heroione back to her youth and a theme patterned after Bach, still written for clavecimbel, is heard in the background when the girl falls in love with the Russian prisoner. Definitely one of Rustichelli’s most accomplished scores. “Divorzio all’Italiana” ushers in an obvious change of course for Germi, who turns to the subject of Italian mores as a source of funny and satirical movies which are at the same time constructive. The director’s intention was to point out the various defects of a society and thereby change its customs. I have no one to what degree a movie like “Divorzia” was understood by foreign audiences; at the time, the early sixties, it was a first attempt to say something new about a forbidden subject like divorce laws in Italy. For this picture Carlo Rustichelli wrote some really superb compositions like ‘Canto d’amore’ or ‘Marcia funebre’. The movie, once more set in Sicily, shows us people that are victims of an unwritten law, steeped in tradition, highly unfair, above all anachronistic and bypassed by modern times. It was an international box-office hit and United Artists released an LP in the States. In those early sixties, Rustichelli was one of few Italian composers whose soundtracks were released in the highly competitive foreign market – along with Lavagnino (“Lost Continent”, “Empire of the Sun”), Nascimbene (“Solomon and Sheba”, “A Farewell to Arms”) Cicognini (“The Black Orchid”, “Indiscretion of an American Wife”), and Rota (“War and Peace”, “La dolce vita”, “Rocco and His Brothers”). “Le Quattro giornate di Napoli” was set during the Second World War and concentrated on a cell of the resistance. The main theme lasts over five minutes, a short symphony composed for tambourines, percussion, violin; near the end the entire orchestra joins in – one of Rustichelli’s most beautiful compositions. Originally released on an LP called “Musica e immagine” and later reissued as “I grande maestri e la musica: Carlo Rustichelli”, the main theme is now available in reorchestrated form on a double album pressed in Japan: “The Best of Carlo Rustichelli” (Seven Seas FMW 25/26). In 1964 the composer found himself in the center of hectic activity, with more than 25 film assignments by the end of that year. He produced severely purely ‘routine’ scores which bowed to commercialism, some of which remain impressive and are still well-worth acquiring: “La calda vita”, “La ragazza di bube”, “Finche’ dura la tempesta’, “I promessi sposi”, and “Buffalo Bill, le’eroe del far west” all fall into this category. “La ragazza di bube” opens with a theme for trombone, setting a melancholy mood which perfectly suited the movie and returns later in the film performed by solo guitar. This method of writing two motifs – a sentimental theme and a more dramatic theme – is one of Carlo Rustichelli’s trademarks, and can be found in most of his scores. “La calda vita” is really a love story about two adolescents staying on a small island in the Mediterranean and the music again perfectly fits the subject -- an exceptionally beautiful melody which conjures up sensations of sun, sea, and sky forming the background to the story. The soundtrack album is extremely difficult to track down, another of Rustichelli’s score sin a symphonic vein. Two years later, Rustichelli became – for the first time, in Italy – a composer of considerable popularity outside the restricted world of film music; the popularity was caused by “L’aramata brancaleone’, a story set during the Crusades. The main theme, a kind of mocking whistling, was very ear-catching and was subsequently recorded by various artists as well as sung in the street by the general public: an understandably satisfying experience for the composer in both a financial and artistic way, as it gained him a second Nastro d’Argento for Best Music Score in 1966. One of those cases in which the success of a mediocre picture depends entirely upon the score, composed to fit the movie like a glove. This predilection for using motifs and instruments of a popular nature like the guitar, or the mandolin, really shows the Italian character of this composer, and gives a personal stamp to many of his scores based on the Mediterranean melody – for example in “Un estate in quattro". Rustichelli worked with dedicated directors like Pasolini, Vancini, Monicelli, Bolognini, whose movies he enriched with original compositions which were far from run-of-the-mill assignments. For “Agostino” the composer wrote a slow waltz for piano, which vaguely reminds us of Georges Delerue’s inimitable style. This aristocratic and slightly brooding theme returns in countless variations throughout the picture, perfectly suited to the idyllic mood. Rustichelli continued to work with Pietro Germi, now a close friend, on films like “Sedotta a abbandonata” (which was once more set in Sicily), “Signore e signori”, “L’immorale”, until Germi’s rural period with “Serafino”, “Ke castagne sono buone”, “Alfredo Alfredo”; a cooperation which lasted until the director’s untimely death in 1974. In the early seventies, Rustichelli composed some scores for other directors which are worth mentioning as well: “Bubu”, “Detenuto in attesa di guidizio”, “La betia”, “Il richiamo della foresta”. Carlo Rustichelli is equally well at home when composing for westerns, epics, thrillers, comedies, or serious pictures with a message. “Salco d’acquisto” represents this composer’s most recent symphonic score – melodious and, when the film takes a tragic turn, highly dramatic – and is in my view one of the best soundtrack albums of the past three or four years. Over the years, Rustichelli has written music for various important TV productions like “L’enciclopedia del mare”, “L’odissea” (his most beautiful symphonic score), “Tintoretto” and “Garibalda” – each of which are exceptional compositions, masterpieces of mood, extremely delicate themes. Apart from Ennio Morricone, who retains the absolute record, Carlo Rustichelli is definitely the most often recorded Italian film composer, with about forty albums and dozens of singles and EPs to his credit. His discography confirms the value, richness, and variety of hie oeuvre. Unfortunately, as so often happens, some of his best scores remain unrecorded and several of his best soundtrack LPs have long been deleted – leaving an important gap which will never be filled. Those who are fortunate enough to know Rustichelli personally are aware that he is exceptionally modest as well as very communicative. Among Italian film composers he is the only one whose music sounds characteristically Italian, giving to his music (whether simple or complex) a profound sense of smell of the land or of the sea, of the scorching sun or of the azure Italian sky. His personal style is immediately recognizable. Rustichelli’s output totals over 400 commissions for films and TV. It stands to reason that a number of these are no more than competent movie scores, but about fifty of his compositions are of lasting value to Italy’s history of film music. You may point out that Rustichelli is influenced by Puccini and by Verdi, but it seems to me a restrictive way of judging a composer who has personality and individual style compared with other composers. It’s significant when Rustichelli says, “I hope that my music simply accompanies, comments on, or hints at the projected image in a way that can be understood by everyone. You should remember that I am musically expressing myself to everyone in the cinema audience – and at the same time to each film fan – whether movie critic or housewife, intellectual or laborer.” Carlo Rustichelli holds film composers of the past in high esteem and considers their scores invaluable. He sincerely admires Miklós Rózsa (a unique composer!) and knew him personally when his Hungarian colleague spent a while in Rome back in ’58, while working on “Ben-Hur”. In addition, he knows the brothers Daniele and Massimo Amfitheatrof quite well – both lived in Italy for many years. One of his two daughters, Alida Chelli, is a well-known actress and singer who now lives in the United States. The Rustichellis live in Rome. How did you become a film composer? By sheer accident or by choice? By a coincidence which led quite naturally to a choice. I once composed the main themes of “Il figlio del Corsaro Rosso” and “Gli tultimi filibustieri”. Pietro Germi had been the screenplay writer on both films and remembered my work. He looked me up at Terni while directing “Tosca” and suggested that I write the score for “Gioventu Perduta”. I suggested that I either compose the music or conduct the orchestra. Although I was trained in composition, this meant entering an entirely new musical field, with modern theories that I didn’t share with other composers then and don’t share even now. Film music would allow me to express myself while ignoring those modern theories I mentioned, and I soon turned to composing film scores with considerable enthusiasm. Do you believe movie music is a completely independent art that can exist on its own, without being backed by a film for instance? I believe movie music presupposes the use of a variety of qualities, which are not inferior when compared to other kinds of music that are much more formal in their structure. I feel that calling film music “art” sounds presumptuous; some movie scores can indeed be listened to independently of the picture. I subscribe to the polemic that it is far better to cherish some cinema scores instead of a great many useless and incomprehensible symphonies. I want to point out that many competent colleagues who turn to writing symphonies do create interesting compositions (since musicians working in films must be very talented) while others who occasionally compose for movies simply do not have the necessary talent, or don’t exercise it well. This is not a personal polemic dictated by jealousy but an objective comment. Naturally some exceptions do exist, but they are rare! Are you emotionally influenced by the subject matter of the picture or the opera? Reading a great screenplay or seeing a marvelous film naturally helps my quest for musical themes inspired by the subject matter. This isn’t always possible, and quite often the composer creates through sheer fantasy that which is lacking in reality. What do you think of the electronic music or certain musical techniques used by composers like Ennio Morricone, sometimes put to use in pictures where it seems unnecessary? It’s often done to express certain moods, or for unusual situations – psychoanalysis, a science-fiction movie, etc. Electronic music can be very effective. It shouldn’t be over-used and it mustn’t be used to stress human feelings, for instance. Including electronic music really depends upon the situations than can arise in a film. Without starting to compare accomplishments or judging scores by your colleagues, which Italian composers do you hold in highest esteem? Do you see a future for Italian film music or do you feel it can no longer renew itself? There are many young Italian composers I admire. At the risk of inadvertently leaving out some names, I’d mention specifically Serio, Morricone, Nicolai, Savina, Plenizio, in fact nearly every young composer, including Bacalov. Also, of course, Lavagnino, Rota, Ortolani, Trovaioli, Piccioni. There are few really young composers, but as I said it’s a difficult field which requires a specialization beyond purely musical qualities. I get along very well with all my colleagues, since I feel not merely friendship but genuine affection for each one of them – I am merely trying to repay them in kind! You wrote many film scores in your long career. Which are your favorite compositions, without taking into account the success a particular movie or its subsequent soundtrack release may have had? That’s a really difficult question. I wrote hundreds of film scores… In my opinion, “Brancaleone” remains one of my best efforts. As to successful movies, I’d like to stress that many scores for low-budget pictures cost me a great deal of effort, with often surprising results; especially the music for “L’uomo di paglia”, “Quattro giornate di Napoli”, “Kapo”, “Divorzio all’Italiana”, “Maledette imbroglio”. Obviously I cannot list them all, but I can’t help feeling that little-known movies like “Bubu di montparnasse”, “Annibale”, “Antinea”, “Alboino e Rosamunde” deserved a better fate. Which are your favorite composers of classical music and your favorite conductors? It would be almost impossible to pick my favorite composers and conductors…, Bach is a giant among composers, but then so are Beethoven, Mozart and so many others. Besides the ones I mentioned, I must confess a certain preference for Wagner, Mahler, Brahms, Verdi, and Tchaikovsky. I also appreciate Puccini, Massenet, Bizet, and Gounod. Among living conductors, I admire Karajan, Pretre, Maazel, Celebidache, Muti and Abbado. A pity that maestro Franco Ferrara, the greatest one of them all, can no longer conduct because of his health. You’ll have to forgive me if I cannot select a single favorite; I recall that among great musicians comparisons are really unpopular! Is composing for films a profession which results from training at the Conservatory and taking conductor’s courses, then perhaps a period doing theatre work? In order to be a good film composer, it is of course necessary to study composition thoroughly since many pictures require scholarly attention. An excellent knowledge of contrapuntal music and dissonance is essential. Naturally not all musicians are competent in this field – they may have a tin ear or they may simply be song writers instead of composers. If I may borrow the words of certain indulgent colleagues: in this respect, Italy unfortunately occupies first place! Must a movie score necessarily be written in the style of a symphony or does light music work equally well in some cases? In Italy film music budgets are small, there’s little time to write a score, and dilettantism all contribute towards the disappearance of the real soundtrack. I think I’d have to repeat the same comments I gave to your last question. I could add that these ‘improvised’ musicians and their indulgent music publishers (their efforts to save money on the size of the orchestra and on the fee of the composer are less well known) are trying to change the concept of film music; they’re no longer concerned with synchronizing the score – though they’re still trying hard to produce the exact synchronization of picture to music – and they feel that asynchronic music sounds much more interesting as well as better. Composing for the cinema needs diligence; hard work and competence, there can be no two ways about it! A few somewhat arrogant composers claim that soundtracks of the past needn’t be cherished because their style is bypassed. Do you agree with this theory? Older symphonic film scores are unquestionably valuable and part of our patrimonium, and we ought to try to conserve them. Which pictures created some problems for you as far as composing the score was concerned? In some movies there are quite a few problems to be solved, as certain scenes can be one entity encompassing music, dance, and song; however, during play-back the musician should be able to solve the problems. Sometimes the composer will succeed, sometimes he won’t; in this case the results will be inappropriate if not downright ugly. In situations like these involving dance, choir, and so on, it is best to write the music first, and then mold it to the picture. Some movies require symphonic treatment, others less complex compositions. A few examples: “Kapo”, “Il richiamo della forrestsa”, “Guerra amore e fuga”, “Rosamunda e Alboino”, “teseo control il minot auro”, “Antinea”. I’d be interested in some anecdotes – a disagreement with a film director, problems when a score was rejected, unexpected difficulties with a movie studio, etc. My relationship with the various directors I have worked with has always been most cordial. With the best of them there are never any problems because there is mutual trust and understanding; both composer and director try to reach the same goal and look for the best solution. With less modest directors this collaboration naturally turns out to be somewhat more difficult; however, in my experience even they listen to suggestions, and afterwards I succeed in giving the illusion of coming up with the director’s choice of music, while in fact I ignored his taste and present my own version! I certainly knew Germi and his ways very well; for instance his acceptance of a theme he liked by giving a pleased grunt! He was always very talkative but he did possess an exceptional understanding of music. He used to listen time and again to the various themes I was trying to construct, even to the extent of falling asleep once or twice and afterwards apologizing, saying that my music had soothed him to sleep… But whenever I found a theme I thought appropriate and played various times for him, I always got that “grunt”. Germi was a surly person, but a pleasure to work with when composing the music for his films. Contrary to what happens in the United States, in Italy the composer is free to interpret a film musically without the slightest pressure from the director or the producer… In Italy the film composer only receives indirect pressure from these people – they ‘suggest’ that the music should be more listenable, or symphonic, or of aesthetical value, and the like. However, pity those composers who listen to these suggestions, since those who give in will – in the end, even in the best of cases – finish up doing the original music. Obviously competent directors should be excluded from those who bear pressure on film composers. What has your experience been when working on foreign films, and what is your opinion of the way things are done in Hollywood? I’ve scored several foreign pictures in Spain, Russia, America, etc. One I ought to mention is “Guerra, amore e fuga” with Paul Newman; I wrote the music on my own in a villa in Los Angeles. I never even met the director! My experience when working on another movie shot in Los Angeles was completely different: “Avanti!” directed by Billy Wilder, with Jack Lemmon. Wilder is a really impressive director, and the way he works is not unlike Germi’s; he respected my ideas enormously, which was actually not all that important because his ideas perfectly corresponded with mine. Scoring this picture was an extremely satisfying experience for me. In this particular case, the American method of working on a movie was identical to the Italian system. With one interesting exception: in the States composers are contracted by studios like Universal, Paramount, Columbia, etc., who extend every facility: rooms where you can write at your ease, on the spot so to speak; and the finished film is at your disposal for checking the length of each scene to be scored, changing the character of a scene, and so on. If we had those facilities at our disposal in Italy, all those improvising musicians and dilettantes would be immediately unmasked! First rate facilities enable only the real composers to show off their craftsmanship. You are a close friend of Ennio Morricone. Do you discuss music and movies or do you never mention your work, by a kind of unspoken mutual agreement? With Morricone and Lavagnino, both close friends of mine, I talk about music, sports and our family problems. We even play cards! Did you really apply all your talents to scoring “Odissea”, or was this assignment made easy by its subject matter, which lent itself quite naturally to a symphonic score? The music for the TV programme “Odissea” – later released in the cinema – did not present any severe problems, since its theme presupposes that particular symphonic treatment. However I should add my task was made easier by the beautifully photographed images. In fact, I recall having a wonderful time composing for these shows. It was a stroke of luck in more ways than one, as I had little time to score each programme, and happily enough music and film meshed perfectly. I had to finish the score for each episode as fast as I could, because the assignment had been given first to another composer who turned out to be not up to the task, and time was really in short supply. My music was conducted by Bruno Nicolai, an excellent musician and composer and a superb conductor.