4. The First Italian Rotocalco: Omnibus (1937–39)

Page 10, Serialised Novels and Short Stories

Literature played an important role in Omnibus.⁵² Every issue included several short stories, usually an original piece written by one of the magazine’s regular collaborators or a translation from a foreign author, in addition to an instalment of a novel, which usually appeared on page 10. Between April 1937 and January 1939 Omnibus published sixteen novels, serialised throughout the ninety-five issues published; of those novels, six were by Italian authors and the remaining ten were translations: one from German, nine from English (all by American authors). The analysis of the novels, especially their genre and original language, acquires an added value if the State’s policies on censorship and the debate around translations are taken into account. The presence of American novels in particular, and of translations from English in general, is of striking significance in the context of an increasing concern on the part of the dictatorship with print media in general and its growing attention to the periodical press. As pointed out in Chapter 1, after the Italo-Ethiopian War and the sanctions imposed by the League of Nations that followed, the Fascist government started to exercise stricter controls on the media and looked to Nazi Germany as an example. The presence of translations from a foreign culture in a popular magazine can be seen as a sign both of a strong presence of that culture in the popular imagination and of a breach of the censorship system which the regime was trying to impose on the periodical press.

The three novels serialised on page 10 in 1937 are examined here as a sample of the serialised literature published in Omnibus. The first, published from 3 April to 19 June 1937, was Tutta la verità sul caso Motta [The Whole Truth about the Motta Case] by Mario Soldati, who had already written a book on his experience in the United States in 1935, America primo amore [America First Love].⁵³ Tutta la verità sul caso Motta provides a clear example of the influence of foreign, specifically American, literature. Soldati’s style as a writer appears to have been influenced by William Faulkner: as Silvia Zangrandi notes, ‘la lettura di Faulkner influenzò Soldati tanto che le analogie tra La verità [sul caso Motta] e il racconto Black Music sono evidenti; in entrambi compaiono lettere, cronache di giornali, il lavoro investigativo della polizia’ [reading Faulkner influenced Soldati so much that the similarities between Tutta la verità [sul caso Motta] and the short story Black Music are obvious; letters, newspaper reports, police investigation work appear in both].⁵⁴ In the first serialised novel published in Omnibus we can thus find strong connections to popular, experimental American literature, respectively in the structure of the novel as crime fiction and in its writing style.

The second novel to be serialised was Dashiell Hammet’s crime story The Girl with the Silver Eyes (translated as La ragazza dagli occhi d’argento – romanzo poliziesco), published between 26 June and 31 July 1937 (and originally distributed in June 1924 in the pulp magazine Black Mask).⁵⁵ It is the first translation of an American novel in Omnibus and the translator is unidentifiable. The next novel to be serialised is again a crime story and this time the link to American influence is, if anything, even more striking, not because it is a translation, but because we have an Italian journalist writing a detective novel set in the United States: L’ombrellino viola [The Purple Parasol] by Tito A. Spagnol, published between 14 August and 6 November 1937. The novel seems to be a direct product of American culture, even if the writing style is still traditional, meaning that the author does not experiment with new uses of the Italian language. Spagnol had lived in the United States while working as a screenwriter, an experience that is constantly recalled in the first-hand knowledge of the country in his novels and contributed to vivid, detailed descriptions of American life and places.⁵⁶ Spagnol also contributed to the magazine with other articles focused on the United States, becoming one of the most recurrent signatures in Omnibus.⁵⁷ The next novel to be serialised was one of the two non-crime novels published in 1937 and the only translation from a language other than English: a novella by Austrian author Joseph Roth, Stationschef Fallmerayer (1933), which appeared under the title Il capostazione Fallmerayer [Fallmerayer the Stationmaster] and was published from 13 November to 11 December 1937. It was followed by a novel written by the military editor of the New York Times, Hanson W. Baldwin. The short work appeared in two instalments on 4 and 11 December, translated by Anna Cassina; it was based on documents of ‘il più orribile naufragio che la storia della navigazione ricordi’ [the most horrific shipwreck in the recorded history of sailing].⁵⁸ Finally, 1937 ended with the opening instalment of another work of crime fiction, with further instalments appearing until March 1938: L’ispettore Bonaparte – romanzo poliziesco [Inspector Bonaparte – Detective Novel] by Italian writer Carlo Marengo. The novel is set abroad, in France and Spain, and its protagonists are all foreigners, the only exception being the detective Luciano Paoli, born in Ajaccio (Corsica) and known as Bonaparte because of his link to the Emperor’s family, whose ancient Italian roots ultimately make both Napoleon and the inspector of Italian origin. L’ispettore Bonaparte is a novel which reflects the regime’s regulation of crime fiction, in that the ‘good guy’ is the only character with a link to Italy, in this case Bonaparte’s Italian heritage – a reflection of the Fascist immanence of the Italian spirit, which would make anyone with any Italian lineage fully Italian. Furthermore, it represents another example of the ‘contamination’ of Italian literature by a foreign literary genre. From this brief survey of serialised novels published on page 10 in 1937, it can be noted that out of a total of six, four of them were crime fiction (if we include Soldati) and three were translations (two from English; one from German). This is particularly noteworthy considering that in the second half of the 1930s the dictatorship was committed to limiting the circulation of crime fiction. Starting in 1937, the Ministry of Popular Culture approved a series of restrictions on the genre, from ordering that the culprit must not be Italian to finally banning crime fiction in 1943.⁵⁹

Between January 1938 and January 1939 most novels serialised were again by foreign authors, with a prominent presence of American writers. There were only three novels by Italian authors, all three key figures in this generation of Italian literature: I nemici [The Enemies] by Corrado Alvaro; Gli anni perduti [The Lost Years] by Vitaliano Brancati; and Lo strano viaggio di Domenico Molo [The Strange Journey of Domenico Molo] by Dino Buzzati (who wrote in Omnibus using the pseudonym Giovanni Drogo). The other seven novels published before the closure of the magazine were all by American authors: La spilla [The Brooch] by William Faulkner; three crime novels by Ben Hecht – Delitto senza passione [Crime Without Passion], Il fantasma del vecchio albergo [The Ghost of the Old Hotel] and Sangue di attore [Actor’s Blood]; Il campione [The Champion] by Ring Lardner; Le orecchie dell’orso [The Ears of Johnny Bear] by John Steinbeck; and I coniugi [The Spouses] by James T. Farrell.⁶⁰ Nevertheless, in 1938 crime fiction was not the predominant genre anymore: only Marengo and Hecht’s novels are detective novels, whereas the others can be categorised as examples of the Bildungsroman. However, the presence and impact of crime fiction as an Anglo-Saxon literary genre which deeply influenced Italian culture still allow an insightful analysis. Its popularity is demonstrated by the sheer number of detective novels which circulated in popular magazines, Omnibus representing an emblematic example of this trend in its distribution and its heterogeneity of style and content, as was Mondadori’s book series ‘I gialli’, which was entirely dedicated to the genre. Moreover, Italian authors clearly adapted to the genre, sometimes emulating foreign authors or using an Anglo-Saxon structure or setting. This was the case with the abovementioned Tutta la verità sul caso Motta by Soldati, a novel that challenged censorship and autarchy not only because of its debt to Faulkner, but also because it starts as a detective novel, a genre for which the Fascists’ tolerance was decreasing.⁶¹ Despite the fact that the authorities considered crime novels to be morally harmful, the majority of novels serialised in Omnibus were detective stories or, like Soldati’s, contained elements of the genre, further pointing to a liking for it among the readers.⁶²

Writing after the war, writer and former contributor to Omnibus Alberto Savinio provides an explanation for both the use of American or British settings for Italian crime novels and the identification of the genre with these countries:

Il romanzo poliziesco è essenzialmente anglosassone. La metropoli inglese o americana, con i suoi bassifondi sinistri e popolati come gli abissi marini di mostri ciechi, le sue squadre di delinquenti disciplinati e militarizzati, le sue folle nere come l’acqua delle fogne, l’aspetto spettrale delle sue architetture, offre il quadro più favorevole, la messinscena più adatta al quadro del delitto. S’immagina male un romanzo poliziesco dentro la cinta daziaria di Valenza o di Mantova, di Avignone o di Reggio Emilia.⁶³

[The detective novel is essentially Anglo-Saxon. The English or American metropolis, with its sinister slums populated like the abysses of the sea by blind monsters, its squads of disciplined and militarised delinquents, its mobs as black as sewer water, the spectral aspect of its architecture, offers the most favourable setting, the most suitable staging for the crime scene. It is hard to imagine a detective novel inside the city walls of Valencia or Mantua, Avignon or Reggio Emilia.]

In his novel La bambola insanguinata [The Bloodstained Doll] (1977), Tito Spagnol expresses a similar position, asserting that:

è solo merito della procedura penale anglo-sassone se esiste il romanzo poliziesco, specialità inglese e americana. Con la nostra procedura, i romanzieri avrebbero poco da esercitare la loro fantasia, giacché da noi, appena si sospetta qualcuno, lo si mette in prigione e allora addio intreccio romanzesco!⁶⁴

[it is only thanks to Anglo-Saxon criminal procedure that the detective novel, an English and American speciality, exists. With our procedure, novelists would have little to exercise their imagination with, since here, as soon as someone is suspected, they are put in prison and then goodbye, novel plot!]

More than the influence of Anglo-Saxon crime fiction on Italian literature, the general presence of American authors in Omnibus, and thus also of Americanised language and even values, is striking.⁶⁵ Short stories by American authors were commonly published both on page 10 and elsewhere: a survey of the thirty-nine issues published in 1937 reveals the presence of twenty-five novels and short stories. William Saroyan leads with three short stories, followed by James Cain and Richard Hughes with two short stories each, translated by different collaborators such as Emilio Ceretti, Elio Vittorini and Giulia Bragiotti. In general, the magazine seems to pay most attention to American and British writers, publishing authors such as D. H. Lawrence and other lesser-known figures such as James Hilton, Manuel Komroff and Albert Halper. Other languages were also present in the magazine. At least three short stories were translated from Chinese and signed by Alberto Moravia; and one Russian novel appeared translated by an elusive ‘A. M.’, perhaps Moravia again.⁶⁶

Omnibus introduced not only foreign authors to its readers but also emerging Italian writers, some of whom published their very first works in this magazine. The most relevant examples are the short stories signed by Giovanni Drogo, a name that became famous in the 1940s as the protagonist of Il deserto dei Tartari [The Tartar Steppe]. Using this pseudonym, Dino Buzzati signed the abovementioned Lo strano viaggio di Domenico Molo and two short stories published in 1937: ‘Notizie false’ [False News] and ‘Il dolore notturno’ [Night Pain].⁶⁷

Besides page 10, other literary features also appear in Omnibus. The popularity and importance of literature for Omnibus are underlined by a contest launched in issue 23 (4 September 1937) that invited readers to send their short stories to the magazine, with the winners to be published on page 6. The first to appear was ‘Il collegio femminile 1911’ [The Girls’ Boarding School 1911], written by Anna Rossi Filangieri, ‘il primo scritto prescelto del concorso permanente di Omnibus’ [the first winning entry in the permanent competition in Omnibus]. This initiative can be seen as proof of the multiple literary interests of Omnibus, reflecting its aim to be a cultured magazine offering sophisticated, but also popular new literature addressed to a wide range of readers. If, on the one hand, it promoted the work of popular authors such as Saroyan and Cain and encouraged readers to participate and challenge themselves to become writers, on the other hand it published sophisticated literary criticism in the column ‘Il sofà delle muse’, in which critics such as Mario Praz, Il Tarlo (Emilio Cecchi) and Arrigo Benedetti discussed new books. This is the section that dedicated most space to Italian literature. It did, however, also discuss other European and non-European cultures, from Czech literature to the latest American books, presenting its readers with different writers, styles and genres, including poetry. Throughout the reviews, and the features containing short stories and novels, Omnibus introduced Italian readerships to an eclectic variety of new writing styles, Italian writers and authors from overseas (especially from the United States), contributing to the dissemination of both well-known and new literary works. The presence of literature in Omnibus confirms its wide scope but also its intense interest in American culture, which is even more evident in the regular feature on cinema, ‘Giorno e notte’.

‘Giorno e notte’

The Italian film industry of the 1930s focused on producing commercial films that followed the entertainment appeal of Hollywood productions. In 1937, our sample year, across the Kingdom of Italy on average 730.1 tickets were sold for every 100 residents, confirming the popularity of cinema as a leisure time activity across the Italian population.⁶⁸ It is thus not surprising that a magazine like Omnibus regularly dedicated an entire section to cinema: ‘Giorno e notte’. Hosted on page 9, it featured a varied content, from gossip to film reviews to analyses of the film industry.⁶⁹ It was written mainly by Mario Pannunzio, author of film reviews for the column ‘Nuovi film’ [New Films], and Antonietta Drago, author of a column focused on film production titled ‘Celluloide’ [Celluloid].⁷⁰ Although ‘Giorno e notte’ was concerned with cinema in general, a particular focus on American films can be noted. Of the thirty-nine ‘Giorno e notte’ sections published in 1937, only one issue did not mention Hollywood, while nine were exclusively dedicated to the American film industry and American films.⁷¹

Consistent with the general format of the magazine, the reader’s attention is first caught by pictures. Typically, two photographs, a close-up portrait of a film star and/or a publicity shot from a film, occupy most of the page. The articles are organised in columns, used as a frame, the different features divided to surround the photographs. Usually, the pictures are linked to the subject of the articles, a sort of visual reference that, with a few exceptions, informs the reader of the content of the column. The articles on film stars, the style of which recalls that of an American fan magazine, are largely focused on Hollywood and are the most distinctive feature of ‘Giorno e notte’.⁷² They contain biographies or interviews that reveal details of film stars’ private lives or comment on aspects of the filmmaking process. The main characteristic of these articles, one rarely found in other contemporary publications, is the presence of fake reports from Hollywood, apparently written exclusively for Omnibus by an American correspondent. These reports were created by the editorial staff of Omnibus, including pieces presented as autobiographies of film stars that even include the name of the Italian translator. Longanesi’s collaborator Gino Visentini recalls how they used to spend nights in the newsroom:

a fare interviste, finte, a Greta Garbo nella casa di Hollywood, oppure a Joan Crawford in studio, creando interviste all’americana, ma inventate di sana pianta da noi, con lo stile americano che deducevamo leggendo Life, altre riviste americane o francesi.⁷³

[writing fake interviews with Greta Garbo in her Hollywood home, or with Joan Crawford in the studio, creating American-like interviews, but completely made up by us, with the style we learnt from reading Life, other American or French magazines.]

On 22 May 1937, for example, ‘Giorno e notte’ published an article signed by Carole Lombard in which the actress talks about her life, how she feels about herself and how she started her career. In another issue, on 12 June 1937, Gary Cooper narrates how he became a famous actor; elsewhere, James W. Bell describes Joan Crawford during a day in the country and Marlene Dietrich’s private life, whereas Allen Alien reveals details of Greta Garbo’s life out of the spotlight.⁷⁴ In May 1937 James W. Bell shares the memory of a winter spent in Dallas in 1935 when he met Jean Harlow’s grandfather; he recalls her fondly telling him: ‘Se andate nel West, fategli una visita; è un uomo ruvido mio nonno, ma se gli parlate di me, ve ne farete un amico’ [If you go out West, go visit him; my grandfather is a gruff man, but if you talk to him about me, you will make him a friend]. The articles signed by Bell specify: ‘Copyright by “Hollywood New Inc.”, and, in Italy, by “Omnibus”’, the same caption as appears at the end of the article on Greta Garbo signed by Allen Alien. A third name, F. James Smith, appears under an article on Gloria Swanson but, although it does not have the caption on copyright, the writing style and the structure of the article are consistent with the others, pointing to the same author(s) and fake correspondence with Hollywood.⁷⁵

It is not clear who was behind these articles, or whether they contained any elements of truth, as no research carried out until now has revealed the identity of James W. Bell, Allen Alien or F. James Smith. They were most probably pseudonyms used by the editorial staff to sign their fake reports, as mentioned by Visentini.⁷⁶ Apart from questions of authorship and authenticity, it was crucial for the impact of Omnibus that the articles on film stars read as if the author were part of the scene and that the impression made on the reader was that the author was a friend of the star (or the star him/herself) and was sharing his privileged, intimate point of view or information with the reader. Not every piece expressed close familiarity with the film star. In the case of an article on Carole Lombard, there is no sign of a close friendship with the actress; James W. Bell describes the scene as if he were part of it, but the piece is shaped more like an interview than a confidential conversation. Another example is provided by two articles, on Marlene Dietrich and Carole Lombard respectively, in which the writer gives the impression of being physically present at the scene being described, although there is no explicit interaction with the actresses.⁷⁷ In both cases these articles are remarkably similar to those published in American fan magazines such as Photoplay (Chicago: Macfadden, 1911–80) and thus point to the influence on Omnibus of American film-fan magazines and the occasional translation of previously published foreign material by the former, as stated by Visentini.

The articles on film stars not only aimed to bring Hollywood stars closer to the readers, but also to reveal that, out of the spotlight, they were not so glamorous as they appeared on screen. Although generally praising Hollywood, Omnibus also exposed the differences between Hollywood and reality, thus in some ways demystifying it. An article on Greta Garbo, for example, reveals the flaws in the popular actress, highlighting the differences between the actress and the woman: Allen Alien discloses what Garbo is like in real life, describing how she spends most of her free time at home reading books and seems to be a lonely, lunatic woman who would benefit from the presence of a man, although, the writer reflects, ‘chi delle due amerebbe il suo uomo, l’attrice che lo schermo rende tanto bella e affascinante […] o la donna che essa è veramente, dal fisico sgraziato?’ [which of the two would love her man, the actress whom the screen makes so beautiful and charming […] or the woman she really is, with her ungainly physique?].⁷⁸ This attitude frequently characterises the pieces on everyday life in Hollywood, which reveal uncommon details about the stars and did not follow the usual exaltation of actresses, suggesting a new side to the star system.

Film stars and details of their lives were not the only element in ‘Giorno e Notte’. As already mentioned, two other columns were included in the page dedicated to the film industry: ‘Nuovi film’ and ‘Celluloide’. ‘Nuovi film’ was dedicated to new releases and written by Mario Pannunzio, who would later become one of the most influential journalists in post-war Italy. In the beginning his column focused only on foreign films and it was only after six months (seventeen issues) that he reviewed an Italian film. The most notable feature of Pannunzio’s writing is that it does not limit itself to a mere review of the latest films: writing about a new release is an excuse to make remarks on other, more general and analytical matters. Pannunzio analyses film as a form of artistic expression, looks at the audience attending the cinema, or discusses the impact of a specific genre on the wider society.

A good example is Pannunzio’s review of the American film Public Enemy’s Wife (La moglie del pericolo pubblico), directed by Nick Grinde (1936), in which the critic uses the opportunity offered by the latest gangster film to state that the gangster genre has had its day and that people had grown tired of it. He also reflects on cinema in general, noting that ‘[i]l cinema ha forse, più di ogni altra arte, il potere di far partecipare lo spettatore alla vicenda rappresentata, quasi fosse un vero e proprio personaggio’ [cinema has, perhaps more than any other art, the power to make the spectator participate in the story, almost as if he were a real character].⁷⁹ In the previous issue, that of 26 June 1937, reviewing The Lady of Secrets (Il peccato di Lilian Day), directed by Marion Gering (1936), the writer tears the director apart and ‘her’ alleged incompetence is a cause for reflection on the (negative) role of women in the Arts.⁸⁰ Pannunzio’s criticisms were also directed towards Italian national productions. One example is represented by his harsh opinion on the white-telephone genre, Hollywood-influenced comedy films very popular among Italian audiences, which he describes as a botched product: ‘[C]ome quei giocattoli che poi si vendono a minor prezzo […] ogni opera ripete gli sbagli della precedente e tutte sembrano sortite dalla medesima mano o, meglio ancora, dalla medesima macchina che sembra abbia negli ingranaggi qualche rotella guastata’ [[L]ike those toys that are later sold at a lower price […] each work repeats the mistakes of the previous one and they all seem to have come from the same hand or, better still, from the same machine, which seems to have some faulty cogs in its gears].⁸¹

In a piece dedicated to La fossa degli angeli [The Angels’ Pit], directed by Carlo L. Bragaglia, Pannunzio criticises the poor directing of the film but also describes in detail a night at the cinema. This detailed account of what happened during the screening is functional to his criticism of the director and actors, but at the same time provides the reader with a vivid portrait of the audience of the day and, therefore, possibly also of the readership of the magazine. Pannunzio describes spectators enjoying Walt Disney’s short cartoon, annoyed by the advertisements but excited at viewing a trailer; he pictures the scene when the lights came on again, as he sees that more than half the audience had left before the end of the screening. The article ends on a bitter reflection on the emptiness of nights spent at the cinema, watching pointless films that are less exciting than a film trailer. Going back to his review, Pannunzio concludes the piece by criticising the Italian film and director, which could not compete even with Disney’s short animation.⁸² The Italian audience is also the object of Pannunzio’s disapproval in his review of the American film They Won’t Forget – directed by Mervyn LeRoy and released in Italy under the Italian title Vendetta in 1938 – in which he highlights the ignorance and superficiality of Italian audiences, who saw the film as crime fiction, failing to understand the deep meaning of a film that he sees as condemning the racist, cruel reality of America.⁸³

A strict limitation on the distribution and screening of American films was approved by the regime in 1938. The role and future of Italian film production were already being debated well before then and Pannunzio contributed to the debate through his articles for ‘Nuovi film’. One example is a piece from 1 May 1937. Reviewing a French film directed by Julien Duvivier, La Belle Équipe (La bella compagnia) (1936), he bitterly highlights the poor quality of European productions and reveals how, even in a good film by an experienced director, ‘tiri di solito una cert’aria, un’aria particolarmente irrespirabile, che ha qualche somiglianza, per esempio, con quella che si avvertiva negli stabilimenti della vecchia Cines’ [there is usually a certain air, a particularly unbreathable air, that bears some resemblance, for example, to that felt in the factories of the old Cines]. He concludes that:

quando anche nelle opere migliori […] voi vedete quell’incertezza, quel fare impacciato, quella povertà nelle invenzioni e nel racconto, non potete non provare una specie di malessere e una sfiducia senza limiti per le sorti di questo povero cinema europeo.⁸⁴

[when even in the best works […] you see that uncertainty, that awkwardness, that poverty of invention and storytelling, you cannot help but feel a kind of unease and boundless distrust for the fate of this poor European cinema.]

In Pannunzio’s opinion, the decline of Italian cinema is part of the wider decline of European cinema, unable to compete with the professional organisation exemplified by Hollywood.

The number of American films reviewed in ‘Nuovi film’ is higher than all other national productions and in most of Pannunzio’s articles Hollywood emerges as a model to follow.⁸⁵ His review of Luciano Serra pilota [Luciano Serra, Pilot], directed by Goffredo Alessandrini in 1938, confirms this view. Luciano Serra pilota was a major film co-authored and supervised by Vittorio Mussolini, the Duce’s son, and represents a clear example of the impact of the American model on Italian culture. According to Vittorio Mussolini, in order to flourish the Italian film industry should have followed the example set by Hollywood: ‘[S]arebbe pericoloso e dannoso per la rinascente industria cinematografica italiana l’accordarsi alla produzione europea, invece di cercar la via e il metodo per eguagliare quella americana’ [[I]t would be dangerous and damaging for the resurgent Italian film industry to conform to European production instead of seeking the way and methods to match American production], he declared in 1936.⁸⁶ Luciano Serra pilota reflects Vittorio Mussolini’s aim to imitate Hollywood: ‘Ero entusiasta dell’organizzazione del cinema americano e desideravo prestare la mia opera affinché anche in Italia si creasse una industria concepita su solide basi tecnico-finanziare’ [I was enthusiastic about the organization of American cinema and wished to do my part so that in Italy, too, an industry conceived on a solid technical and financial basis would be created].⁸⁷ Ultimately, Luciano Serra is the classic stereotype of the humble hero who, in the end, chooses to do the ‘right thing’, turning the film into successful propaganda that made Italians identify with the protagonist and relate to his patriotic choice. Essentially, Serra is crafted to represent an ordinary man who ultimately chooses patriotism and thus Fascism, although there is no explicit connection to the Fascist regime.

Propaganda film or not, Pannunzio believed that in its innovative approach to filmmaking, Luciano Serra pilota finally showed the direction the Italian film industry should take:

[U]n film come Luciano Serra pilota può insegnare molte cose, essendo un’opera ch’è riuscita non solo a scordare le vecchie strade piene di polvere seguite dai più, ma a segnarne di nuove, che si confanno all’indole del nostro pubblico, annoiato di tante nostre commedie sentimentali e insensate, di tanti capricci in dialetto, di tante avventure modeste di tranquilli eroi.⁸⁸

[[A] film like Luciano Serra pilota can teach us many things, it being a work that has succeeded not only in forgetting the old, dusty roads followed by most, but also in marking out new ones that suit the nature of our audience, bored with so many of our sentimental and senseless comedies, so many caprices in dialect, so many modest adventures of quiet heroes.]

For Pannunzio, the film is one of the most successful attempts made by the Italian film industry to imitate Hollywood and this is one of the few positive reviews of Italian films in his column.⁸⁹ Furthermore, the film also offers an example of how American models could be Italianised and used to disseminate national (Fascist) values.

The third section of ‘Giorno e notte’, ‘Celluloide’, was written by Antonietta Drago and its main focus was also the American film industry. It put together foreign newspaper cuttings that showed readers what was behind the production of a film, from funding to production. The subject was cinema in general, not only American, but also European and Soviet, although Hollywood remained at the centre. The most distinctive characteristic of ‘Celluloide’ is the attention it paid to practical aspects of the industrial organisation of film production, in some cases presenting short articles on a specific aspect of the process. On 10 July 1937, for example, the article ‘Proibito’ [Forbidden] explains the problem Hollywood studios had to face because of their own country’s censorship practices and the nationalist policies adopted by importing countries that protected national film industries from the massive quantity of American products. The piece highlights specific features of international film industries, from Singapore to Scandinavia, and anticipates the restriction on American imports to Italy approved shortly after. While the Fascist government was working towards the control of film distribution and screening, which led to the approval of the so-called Alfieri Law (from the name of the Minister of Popular Culture, Dino Alfieri) and the institution of the state monopoly on the import of foreign films, Omnibus kept focusing on Hollywood, in contrast to the regime’s promotion of Italian productions.⁹⁰ As much as in Pannunzio’s reviews, for Drago Hollywood seems to have been the principal point of reference for (good) filmmaking. In 1937 there were three articles dedicated to Soviet film production – published on 22 May, 25 September and 4 December respectively – and although they inform the reader of the state of Soviet cinema in general, concentrating on organisation and funding, even in this case Drago refers to the American film industry as a model:

Se volgiamo lo sguardo agli stabilimenti e ai quadri dell’industria, il panorama è ancora più triste. Circa quattro anni fa, Sciumiatski, di ritorno da un viaggio di studi e di piacere a Hollywood, decisa la costruzione a Jalta, in Crimea, di una Hollywood sovietica. […] Ebbene, sono già due anni che quegli stabilimenti sono in grado di funzionare, e nemmeno un film è uscito ancora da questa caricatura di Hollywood.⁹¹

[If we look at the industry’s establishments and executives, the picture is even sadder. About four years ago, on his return from a study and pleasure trip to Hollywood, [Boris] Šumjackij decided to build a Soviet Hollywood in Yalta, Crimea. […] Well, it is already two years since those edifices have been able to function and not a single film has yet come out of this caricature of Hollywood.]

The attention Drago paid to specific and technical aspects of film production worldwide contributed to making ‘Celluloide’ a column comparable to material in specialist cinematographic magazines, such as Cinema (Milan: Hoepli, 1936–56). However, the tone of Drago’s articles is consistent with the generally sharp, lively tone used in Omnibus and in line with Pannunzio’s critical reviews. Some pieces, for example, are used to highlight what is seen as the ridiculous or negative aspects of film production, such as the system of American censorship created by Will H. Hays that led to a controversy between the Hays Office and Warner Bros. about a short film on ‘l’arte di indossare le calze’ [The Art of Wearing Socks],⁹² or the abovementioned failures of Soviet film production to emulate Hollywood.⁹³ What emerges in ‘Celluloide’ is a deeply ambivalent attitude towards America: Hollywood is praised and considered a model for film production, therefore challenging censorship, but at the same time it is also ridiculed, echoing the Fascist anti-American rhetoric that was a feature of several other parts of Omnibus.

Overall, ‘Giorno e Notte’ provides a clear example of the sustained, but contradictory fascination with America to be found in Omnibus. The articles dedicated to film stars were inspired by American magazines and some of them were, or pretended to be, translations of original American articles and contributed to the spreading of a fascination with the Hollywood star system in Italy. ‘Giorno e Notte’ also confirms the complexity of perspectives in Omnibus: the critical film reviews by Pannunzio and the comment pieces by Drago were consistent with the cultured tone of the magazine, but the strong presence of articles on film stars that read like a gossip column made ‘Giorno e Notte’ also a popular culture section. Together they created a mixture of a popular side and an aspiration to serious cultural comment in which the American model of the fan magazine co-existed with sophisticated or expert critique, making these two ‘cultures’ available for everyone. Finally, in ‘Giorno e notte’ American culture can be found not only as the main subject of the articles, but also as a model for the layout of the column, influenced by the American fan magazines, with photographs of film stars and big, catchy titles attracting the readers’ attention.

Through literature and films, translated articles and comics, American culture was thus a constant presence in Omnibus. Taken together, the images of America disseminated throughout the magazine reveal a deeply ambivalent attitude to American culture.⁹⁴ This is also reflected in the different generations amongst the contributors to Omnibus. Authors such as Elio Vittorini, Mario Praz, Alberto Moravia, Giaime Pintor, Mario Soldati and Emilio Cecchi, who collaborated as translators from English and/or writers of original pieces with links to American culture, also contributed to the dissemination of an ambivalent image of the United States in Italy during the late 1930s. These authors were part of two different generations with dissimilar attitudes and ideas as far as American culture was concerned: authors such as Praz and Cecchi were sceptical of prevalent myths of America, whereas Vittorini, Pintor and Soldati perceived the United States and a certain new American literature as a powerful symbolic presence that conditioned their own work.

A comparison between articles about Hollywood and pieces on American society clearly reveals this ambivalence. In the third issue of 1938, for example, Elio Vittorini’s translation of a short story by William Saroyan – L’uomo col cuore negli altopiani [The Man With the Heart in the Highlands] – is published in columns surrounding a photograph entitled ‘documenti americani’ [American documents] that portrays a woman kissing a dead man in a coffin. The caption reads: ‘Elena Wills Love, di anni 31 accusata di avere ucciso il suo amante, mentre bacia la vittima nella bara’ [Elena Wills Love, thirty-one-years-old, accused of having killed her lover, kisses the victim in his coffin].⁹⁵ Consistent with the use of images in Omnibus, the photograph stands alone and delivers an implicit message denouncing the violence and hypocrisy of American women. There is no connection with Saroyan’s short story, a tale about the encounter of a poor American family with an old actor travelling across the United States whose heart belongs to Scotland. Instead, it offers a clear example of contradictory images of the United States: the space dedicated to American literature, implicitly approved, is counterbalanced by an image condemning American society, depicted in Omnibus as violent, hypocritical and barbarian, clearly echoing the rhetoric of the Fascist regime. Once more, photographs play a crucial role in accusing and revealing hidden aspects of American society, as here or in a photo-story on President Roosevelt, portrayed in grotesque and denigrating poses which undermine his credibility.⁹⁶ Throughout Omnibus, America is thus presented as two separate, co-existing realities: the sparkling world of Hollywood and its stars, a fake world made of life-changing opportunities that can turn a simple secretary into a wealthy wife, contrasted with the ‘real’ face of America, greedy and violent.

This ambivalent attitude can be traced even in positive reviews of films such as Gold Diggers, in which Pannunzio praises the American actors – ‘Gli attori […] giocano su una recitazione esatta, precisa, realistica’ [The actors […] play on exact, precise, realistic acting] – but depicts American society in general as immoral: ‘Traspare anzi qua e là quella frenetica, angosciosa, brutale sete di danaro, ch’è propria degli americani, e che a malapena è velata da un candore e un’ingenuità superficiali’ [On the contrary, here and there transpires that frenetic, anguished, brutal thirst for money that is characteristic of Americans and that is barely veiled by a superficial candour and naivety].⁹⁷ Gossip articles on film stars were used to spread negative images of American society, too. An article signed by James W. Bell, for example, reflects on the fact that the majority of Hollywood stars claim to come from poor families and disadvantaged backgrounds: ‘Ogni attrice è una Becky Sharp e ogni attore un Oliviero Twist. […] [I] genitori, le madri, i padri e gli zii degli attori, sembrano uscire tutti dalla penna di Zola’ [Every actress is a Becky Sharp and every actor an Oliver Twist. […] [T]he actors’ parents, mothers, fathers and uncles all seem to come from Zola’s pen]. According to Bell, the reason behind the unfortunate events that characterised a star’s childhood was the American fascination with ‘gli eroi che salgono alla gloria dalla strada’ [heroes rising to glory from the streets], a myth that suggested anyone could become famous.⁹⁸ Bell explains that, ‘ciò ha la sua ragione sociale, il suo segreto commerciale: ed è che agli americani […] piacciono gli eroi self-made […] [ed] è un’ambizione postuma di tutti i ricchi, quella di essere stati poveri’ [this has its social rationale, its trade secret: and that is that Americans […] like self-made heroes […] [and] it is a posthumous ambition of all rich people to have been poor]. Accordingly, ‘la Crawford era una dattilografa e viveva in una soffitta’ [Crawford was a typist and lived in an attic]; and Marlene Dietrich had to sell her precious violin, a gift from her father who had died in the Great War, in order to save her sick mother.⁹⁹ By revealing how Hollywood stars claimed to come from a poor background just to appeal to the public, Bell highlights the hypocrisy of both Hollywood and American society, in which rich people display a false modesty. Consistent in a way with the contradicting views across the Fascist apparatus, Omnibus celebrated Hollywood but condemned American society as a whole. Its cultural content mirrored the Fascist stance against the United States, exemplified by legislation banning American influences, and an Italian readership fascinated by it; it replicated the same ambivalence on the part of the Fascist regime, which limited imports but built its own film studios following the Hollywood example.

***

In the final issue of Omnibus, published on 28 January 1939, an article on the Italian poet and philosopher Giacomo Leopardi by the magazine drama critic Alberto Savinio prompted the intervention of the Fascist censors and the closure of the magazine. In the official documents the reason for this decision is clearly stated, as Longanesi admits in a letter to Dino Alfieri dated 2 February: ‘[M]i è stato comunicato l’ordine di sospensione di Omnibus per un articolo a firma Alberto Savinio riguardante Leopardi a Napoli’ [I was informed of the order to suspend Omnibus on account of an article by Alberto Savinio concerning Leopardi in Naples].¹⁰⁰ However, there are three different theories as to the exact cause. The first states that Omnibus was closed because Savinio insulted one of Italy’s greatest poets, Giacomo Leopardi.¹⁰¹ The second version, which is the most corroborated, suggests that Savinio offended the Prefect of Naples and his wife by calling them ‘donkeys’: Savinio criticised the closure of the famous café Gambrinus, not knowing that it had been decided by the Prefect himself, who expressed his indignation to Mussolini, who in turn ordered the closure of Omnibus.¹⁰² A third interpretation originates from Francesco Bolzoni, who in his study of Omnibus suggests that it was, in fact, Savinio’s allusion to ‘uno sbrindellato reparto di soldati in partenza per la Macedonia […] che, al modo di una dispettosa fotografia, fermava la voracità e la sconsolata miseria di fantaccini che ci si preparava a inviare di nuovo al fronte’ [a tattered troop of soldiers departing for Macedonia […] who, like a mischievous photograph, exposed the voraciousness and sorrowful misery of the little puppets being prepared to be sent to the front again] which caused the intervention by the censors.¹⁰³ According to this version, the real reason behind the forced closure of Omnibus was Savinio’s derision of the Italian Navy: ‘La maggior divoratrice di gelati è la marina da guerra’ [The greatest devourer of ice cream is the Navy].¹⁰⁴ Whichever is the correct version, each one shows that, despite the margin of freedom of expression which the Ministry of Popular Culture allowed periodicals to enjoy as compared to newspapers, it was ready to intervene and suspend a magazine for the smallest insult to Italy’s prestige or power.

After being notified of the government’s measures against Omnibus, Longanesi tried to appeal directly to Mussolini, reminding him of his longstanding service to the Fascist cause and defending Savinio’s joke about Leopardi – a figure who, being unheroic, was not at odds with the regime’s spirit.¹⁰⁵ On 2 February 1939, however, the final measure against Longanesi was approved in a letter from Alfieri to the Prefect of Milan: ‘Prego V. E. disporre che settimanale “Omnibus” edito Rizzoli-Milano sospenda sue pubblicazioni per revoca riconoscimento del gerente responsabile Leo Longanesi causa atteggiamento tenuto dal periodico in questi ultimi tempi’ [[I] request [that] Your Excellency order that the weekly magazine ‘Omnibus’ published by Rizzoli-Milan suspend its publication due to the revocation of the recognition of editor-in-chief Leo Longanesi due to the attitude of the periodical in recent times].¹⁰⁶ Even Angelo Rizzoli tried to intercede to save Omnibus: ‘L’Editore Rizzoli, che deve rientrare a Milano, insiste per essere ricevuto oggi da Sua Eccellenza Alfieri, cui vorrebbe parlare del cambio della gerenza di “Omnibus”, onde evitare a tutti un danno generale’ [The Editor Rizzoli, who is to return to Milan, insists on being received today by His Excellency Alfieri, to whom he would like to speak about the change in management of ‘Omnibus’, in order to avoid general harm to everyone].¹⁰⁷ In spite of these attempts, Mussolini’s decision was final and Omnibus was never published again.

As early as March 1939 another magazine published by Angelo Rizzoli, Tutto, appeared on the news-stands showing a new look clearly inspired by Omnibus, so much so that it again moved the Ministry of Popular Culture to intervene:

È uscito in questi giorni il primo numero della serie interamente rinnovata del settimanale ‘Tutto’. ‘Tutto’ […] è divenuto dopo questa trasformazione una copia sfacciata del soppresso settimanale ‘Omnibus’: identica è l’impaginazione del nuovo foglio, identico lo stile ottocentesco dei titoli e delle fotografie, identici le rubriche ed i collaboratori (fra i quali è Alberto Moravia, […] e […] Mario Missiroli).

Il direttore responsabile di ‘TUTTO’ è inoltre […] Andrea Rizzoli, il quale evidentemente ha assunto la gerenza del settimanale per eliminare formalmente il nome del vecchio direttore Leo Longanesi.

‘Tutto’ costituisce insomma un’evidentissima seconda edizione di ‘Omnibus’ e perciò una palese contravvenzione all’ordine di soppressione di questo settimanale dato pochissime settimane or sono dal Ministro della cultura popolare.

Il fatto è stato subito notato ed ampiamente commentato non solo negli ambienti giornalistici e letterari, ma anche dal pubblico il quale vede in esso un segno della sopravvivenza di certi giornalisti sordamente ostili al Fascismo.¹⁰⁸

[The first issue of the completely revamped series of the weekly ‘Tutto’ came out these days. ‘Tutto’ […] has, after this transformation, become a shameless copy of the suppressed weekly ‘Omnibus’: identical is the layout of the new sheet, identical is the nineteenth-century style of the headlines and photographs, identical are the columns and the contributors (among whom are Alberto Moravia, […] and […] Mario Missiroli).

Furthermore, the editor in charge of ‘TUTTO’ is […] Andrea Rizzoli, who evidently took over the management of the weekly in order formally to eliminate the name of the old editor Leo Longanesi.

In short, ‘Tutto’ constitutes a very evident second edition of ‘Omnibus’ and therefore a blatant contravention of the order given a few weeks ago by the Minister of Popular Culture to suppress this weekly.

The fact was immediately noticed and widely commented on not only in journalistic and literary circles, but also by the public, who saw in it a sign of the survival of certain journalists deafly hostile to Fascism.]

After its forced closure Omnibus continued to play a role in the Italian periodical press, not only as a model to be emulated, as with Tutto and, after the war, L’Espresso and Il Mondo, founded by Benedetti and Pannunzio respectively, but also as an experience that was profoundly formative for many of the writers and intellectuals who went on to shape post-war Italian journalism. Although foreign elements, both European and American, can be easily traced in Omnibus, Longanesi created a magazine that had its own distinctive Italian features and reflected, directly and indirectly, specific aspects of Italian culture: the Fascist regime and its rhetoric; Italians’ fascination with Hollywood and American culture; and Italian habits, commented on and interpreted through the sarcastic lens of Longanesi.

This explains why Omnibus is often referred to as the first Italian rotocalco. Rizzoli had already produced and printed magazines using the rotogravure printer, with Novella possibly representing the earliest and most successful example. What made Omnibus a prototype of the modern illustrated weekly, then, was not so much, or not only, its use of this new printing technology, but rather its innovative use of photographs and other images, as well as its heterogeneous mix of serious analyses and entertainment, which allowed it to appeal to potentially any kind of reader – from housewives to intellectuals – with cultural or political interests, or just looking for distracting entertainment. Images differentiated Omnibus from any other periodical of the time in their range, type and variety of tone. In this sense, Omnibus reflects and in many ways shaped the Italian concept of the rotocalco as a general magazine for a wide readership covering a broad range of topics from current affairs to culture.