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aheathen-conceivably · 11 months

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Josephine had been sitting with Antoine for hours. Her years at the brothel had taught her what to do when someone was drunk and unresponsive; so with great difficulty she had hoisted Antoine off his back and into an upright position. She stayed there next to him, smoking an endless chain of cigarettes as she monitored his breathing and occasionally attempted to wake him again.

Her brother’s physical presence didn’t make her feel any less alone there. Giorgio was gone, almost all of her friends were gone, even Zelda was gone. She was only thankful that Violette wasn’t here to see this.

Jo hadn’t seen her brother drink this way in almost a decade. Sure, they had drank far more than they should throughout their youth, who hadn’t? The halls of Storyville were practically flowing with champagne, and she wouldn’t see a John or get on stage without at least a bottle.

And all their lives she and Antoine had liked drinking. Even before she had started working, they would often galivant through the clubs of Storyville together as teenagers. Dressed in whatever clothes they could gather from the pieces men left at the brothel, they would pretend to be upstanding, paying gentlemen.

Of course the owners of the clubs all knew who they were. Delphine’s little ones. So late at night, when couples began to pair off and the men were too drunk to notice the interlopers, the bartenders passed them shots of whiskey or champagne and let them dance to the piano without paying the cover fee. It was how Antoine has learned how to play, how he had heard Jelly Roll and Tony Jackson in their primes.

Josephine realized that looking back now, it was perhaps a bit sad: two teenagers given free reign of the vice district as their mother worked. But in the moment she only remembered them feeling free and happy, and having each other amidst the heavily gilded debauchery all around them.

But once he got back from the war, it had all changed. Antoine never drank for fun after that. Only to forget, or to rage and get into fights; only to pass out on the floor of the club, disappointing their mother and teaching Josephine how to rouse him from yet another drunken episode.

Josephine was pulled from her memories by a groan at her side.

“Jo?” He asked, lifting his head, “Fuck, was that you? Had you been here all along?”

As she shook her head yes, he rubbed his temples, the hangover clearly already settling in, “Did you hear all that? Everything I said?”

“Some of it,” she answered, unwilling to say how much. She had always assumed that he wouldn’t want to leave, always assumed it wasn’t worth telling him about Giorgio’s offer, just as he had never told her that Gio had offered him part ownership in the farm.

Neither of them wanted to be the first one to jump ship, to abandon their home or their mother’s memory; but at that moment they both knew that they were ready, both thought it separately without wanting the other to know.

Instead Antoine cleared his throat, doing his best to hide his thoughts from his sister, “Have you heard from Zelda? She should be home by now, shouldn’t she?”

Josephine shook her head, not wanting to acknowledge her own fear that perhaps Zelda wasn’t coming home at all. Each day they woke, expecting a telegram with the information of her return ship; yet each day it didn’t come, until weeks became months and its arrival seemed less and less likely.

Josephine buried her fears and stood on unsteady heels. She offered her hand to her brother, “Come on, let’s get you some food.”

Antoine took her hand, the room once again beginning to spin as he rose to his feet. Jo put her arm around his waist to steady him and they crossed the now empty dance floor. Unbeknownst to her, the wisps of phantoms still danced there, threatening to pull Antoine under once again. He leaned his weight onto his sister, trying to ignore their calls and bury the whole ordeal deep in his mind.

Part 2/2

#1929 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #the darlingtons #1920s #antoine duplanchier #josephine duplanchier

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citylighten · 7 months

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PUSH IT TO THE LIMIT

#simblrween #scarface #ts4edit #oc: tiago #Spotify

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droughtofapathy · 5 months

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The Gilded Age of Broadway Divas: Duets, Trios, and Other Crossovers

While I wait for my matinee show to start, here's our final compilation just six hours before our season finale. If you've been following along with this series, you'll notice how much overlap there is in the theatre. Everyone has been with, or sung with, or played the same role as everyone else. Here is just a taste of the sublime combined talents of our favorite Broadway Divas. And yes, this is my petition to have a musical episode.

#1: "Lily's Eyes," (The Secret Garden) Miscast 2022 - Audra McDonald and Kelli O'Hara

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I watched this, and my soul transcended space and time. Performed at MCC's 2022 Miscast gala honoring Christine Baranski (of course), Audra and Kelli have a brief tiff about which soprano is worthy of Soprano Island before joining together to sing the most resplendent duet you will ever experience in your life.

The Secret Garden opened on Broadway in 1991 starring Rebecca Luker as Lily. Kelli and Audra are singing the parts of Lily's husband and brother-in-law respectively. And like Lily, Rebecca Luker has since passed away. Knowing that they are singing not only to honor Christine, but also to Rebecca, their dear friend and fellow soprano, is yet another layer of heartbreak. I love this song.

#2: "Move On," (Sunday in the Park with George) Princetown concert 2022 - Audra McDonald & Michael Cerveris

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Former co-stars reunited in Princetown last year to sing this impromptu duet from the Pulitzer-winning Sunday in the Park with George. Sunday is filled with sublime music, and "Move On" is one of the best. In it, Dot appears to George, the grandson of Georges Seurat, and encourages him to move on with his artistry and stop worrying about perfection. The show itself is beautiful and complex, and a proshot is available for your convenience.

Audra and Michael had previously done a three-day, semi-staged production of this show in 2004, also featuring Patti LuPone as Yvonne/Blair Daniels (the role Christine Baranski created in the original pre-Broadway workshop). Interestingly, this trio would move on to take part in the Lincoln Center Broadcast of Passion in 2005 with Audra as Clara (the Marin Mazzie role), and Patti as Fosca (the Donna Murphy role).

Michael Cerveris would play Giorgio multiple times in his career, including the 10th Anniversary concert with Marin and Donna.

#3 Tonight: Quintet (West Side Story) - Lucky to Be Me: The Music of Leonard Bernstein (2010) - Kelli O'Hara, Donna Murphy, Michael Cerveris

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Speaking of Michael Cerveris and Donna Murphy, and joined by Kelli O'Hara, this audio comes from a 2010 concert celebrating the music of Leonard Bernstein. The youtube video incorrectly attributes this to a 2012 concert, but it is not.

"Tonight (Quintet)" is, of course, from West Side Story, where Bernstein wrote the music, and Sondheim wrote the lyrics. Because this was a concert, certain singing parts are taken by those who would not sing such parts in a full production...anymore. (Lest we forget Natalie Wood in the movie.)

Donna sings Anita, and Kelli sings Maria, the two young Puerto Rican women in the show. And I think we'll leave that there. Michael Cerveris sings the part of Riff, and they are joined by Cheyenne Jackson as Tony.

Also featured in this concert is the amazing, incredible, beloved soprano Victoria Clark, who has starred opposite all three of our Gilded Age actors at one point or another. As the Margaret to Kelli's Clara (Light in the Piazza), the Sally to Donna's Phyllis (Encores! Follies), and in Titanic with Michael Cerveris. Theatre, it's all connected.

#4: LoveMusik (2007)

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A little more on LoveMusik. While I've already detailed a little on my Donna Murphy post, here's some more about Michael Cerveris, two-time Tony winner. As Kurt Weill, Michael was nominated for a Tony, Drama Desk, Outer Critics Circle, and Drama League Award, but did not win any. While the show itself was given mixed reviews, the performances of Donna and Michael were almost universally praised.

The 2007 Tony Award for Best Leading Actress in a Musical included three Gilded Age nominees. Debra Monk (Curtains), Audra McDonald (110 in the Shade) and Donna Murphy (LoveMusik). All three lost to Christine Ebersole of the Grey Gardens variety. Fair. I suppose. However, Audra and Donna tied for the Drama Desk. And there WAS a wonderful clip of their award ceremony online for years, except now that I need it for this, it's been taken down. Of course.

#5: "At the Ballet," (A Chorus Line) - Audra McDonald & Kelli O'Hara

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Joined by Megan Hilty, Kelli O'Hara and Audra McDonald performed "At the Ballet" from A Chorus Line at a Lincoln Center Marvin Hamlisch tribute in 2013. Audra showcases a robust lower range I simply adore. Unfortunately the lower key change leaves Kelli's soprano in an awkward place, but I love her anyway.

A Chorus Line is one of the musical theatre greats, and while "At the Ballet" is often overshadowed by "What I Did for Love," it's my personal favorite. The original stage show ran for 6,137 performances, and was nominated for twelve Tonys, winning nine. After Follies, this is the show I most want to see fully staged. A 50th Anniversary revival was rumored back in 2016 for 2025, but I'll believe it when I see it.

#6: The Ladies Who Lunch (Company) - Take Me to the World: A Sondheim 90th Celebration - Christine Baranski & Audra McDonald (ft. Meryl Streep)

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Legends. Icons. Divas. What more can I say about "The Ladies Who Lunch," performed by Christine Baranski, Audra McDonald, and Meryl Streep, mother to Louisa Jacobson? As the story goes, they had done so many takes that by this time, they were well and truly on their way to being drunk. And yet, Audra McDonald still sounds more exquisite than anyone on earth.

I watched this when it premiered "live" on YouTube during the early days of the pandemic. Several Broadway stars who would go on to The Gilded Age are featured, including Kelli O'Hara, Laura Benanti, Nathan Lane, and Michael Cerveris.

It has been almost four years, and I have still not recovered from this song's placement in the concert. Picture it: you have just been emotionally wrung out by Donna Murphy's revelatory "Send in the Clowns," sung whilst seated in front of an Al Hirshfeld print of Passion, with her cleavage out in true Mrs. Astor fashion. And then suddenly there's jaunty Company music, and an illustration of the great Elaine Stritch with her martini glass high. And then there is Christine Baranski in a bathrobe and a truly massive glass of red wine. And you think it cannot get any better. And then the second verse hits and there's Meryl Streep with a cocktail mixer. AND THEN Audra Fucking McDonald. They put those two songs back-to-back and expected me to recover one day? As if.

Bonus: "Lips Together, Teeth Apart" (2018) - Nathan Lane & Christine Baranski

While not a musical performance, I would be remiss if I didn't direct your attention to this masterpiece. Did you ever think you'd hear Aunt Agnes gunning to see Ward McAllister's dick? No? Well, here it is. Terrence McNally wrote "Lips Together, Teeth Apart" specifically for his 1991 original cast which included Christine as Chloe and Nathan Lane as her brother Sam. And they are going through marital troubles with their respective spouses. Nathan and Christine reunited in 2018 to perform this scene for McNally's 80th Birthday.

But the Gilded Age connection doesn't stop there:

In 2019, The New York Times Magazine ran a special "America 2024" issue, as a tribute to Terrence McNally. The whole thing is a fantastic read, and I'd recommend it. In it features photoshoots depicting scenes from several of McNally's plays, including "Lips Together, Teeth Apart." And look who's here: Donna Murphy as Chloe (the Christine Baranski role), Broadway's Leading Man Brian Stokes Mitchell, Michael Shannon as Sam (the Nathan Lane role), and Katie Finneran.

And on one of four covers for this issue, Celia Keenan-Bolger.

With that, the conclusion to my little Diva miniseries. I hope you've found this as entertaining as I have. And if you'd like me to go into more detail about anything you've seen throughout this series, let me know, because I have so much more gossip and drama that I had to restrain myself from adding.

LINK TO MASTERPOST

#the gilded age #aurora fane #dorothy scott #lina astor #agnes van rhijn #ward mcallister #mr. watson (gilded age)#kelli o'hara #audra mcdonald #donna murphy #michael cerveris #christine baranski #nathan lane #sondheim #terrence mcnally #broadway #musical theatre

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schizografia · 5 months

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In memoria di Toni Negri

Due notti prima che mi giungesse la notizia della morte di Antonio – di Toni – Negri, l’ho sognato a lungo e la sua presenza era così viva che, al risveglio ho sentito il bisogno di scrivergli. Il mio messaggio al vecchio email che non usavo da anni non ha potuto raggiungerlo. Quando le ho raccontato del sogno, un’amica mi ha detto: «ha voluto salutarti prima di andarsene». Pur nelle divergenze dei nostri pensieri, col tempo sempre più chiare, qualcosa ostinatamente ci legava, qualcosa che aveva innanzitutto a che fare con la sua generosa, inquieta, puntigliosa vitalità, che avvertii subito quando lo incontrai per la prima volta a Parigi nel 1987.

Con la scomparsa di Toni sento che qualcosa mi manca – dentro di me, sotto i miei piedi, forse soprattutto dietro di me, come se una parte del mio passato si facesse bruscamente presente e mi apostrofasse mancando. E questa mancanza non riguarda solo me, ma tutto il nostro paese e la sua storia, sempre più falsa, sempre più ignara, come mostrano gli odiosi necrologi, che ricordano solo il cattivo maestro e non il cattivo, atroce paese in cui gli era stato dato di vivere e che cercava, forse sbagliando, di rendere migliore. Perché Toni, a partire dalla tradizione marxista a cui apparteneva e che lo ha forse condizionato e tradito, ha certamente cercato di misurarsi col destino dell’Italia e del mondo nella fase estrema del capitalismo che stiamo attraversando verso non si sa quale sciagurata meta. E questo è quanto coloro che continuano a oltraggiarne la memoria né osano né sarebbero mai capaci di fare.

18 dicembre 2023

Giorgio Agamben

#giorgio agamben #quodlibet

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bruhbenton · 1 year

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PIZZAHEAD BRAINROT!!!! [this gets updated regularly]

HI GUYS I'VE BECOME OBSESSED WITH PIZZAHEAD FROM PIZZA TOWER SO I'VE SORT OF CREATED A HEADCANON/AU STORY OF HIM

OK SO PIZZAHEAD ISN'T ACTUALLY PIZZAHEAD'S FULL LEGAL NAME IS "Totino Pagliaccio Enzo" (Totally did not take the name "Enzo" from @very-normal-pizza-tower-askblog)

Totino is from a dimension where people and creatures are made from pizza-like ingredients. Ex: Himself, Cheese-slimes, Toppins, Pizza Granny, etc...

Totino specifically lives in a country called Gaetacione.

His dad is Pizzaface, who've I've given the name Giorgio, and he has a younger brother, whose name is Tonio, or Tony for short, and he has a mom who I haven't made any type of design or name for yet.

The country of Gaetacione, Giorgio is the ruler, which would make Totino next in line when Giorgio dies or something, however, Totino [along with his brother] is stuck in Peppino's dimension, and Totino probably doesn't wanna deal with that shit, so someone else in the Enzo family will probably take Giorgio's place

Totino and his dad don't really get along. His dad really only cares about his reputation and is obsessed with making Totino and Tonio be perfect and proper and shit like that. Totino has a very small circle of friends because of it, and would frequently sneak out of the estate when he was living there because his dad is honestly a fucking prick. That and Giorgio literally sent him to a dimension where people eat pizzas, made him build a whole-ass tower AND death ray AND a robot of himself with no outside help, THEN Totino got the shit kicked out of him for it and nearly died in the tower collapse.

One day Giorgio learned about the dimension that Peppino is from, and learned out that pizza chefs like Peppino create pizzas, and sell them for people to eat. Giorgio thought that these pizzas were sentient like him and Totino, so Giorgio informed his immediate family about it, and basically left Totino alone in Peppino's dimension to build the Pizza Tower and blow up his pizza place. Totino created the robot based off of Giorgio's face as a way to just say "fuck you" to him.

So, Totino basically got the shit kicked out of him, tower got destroyed, and Totino basically got really fucking injured from the wreckage/debris from the tower, fled to the woods to try to avoid being noticed by others, Gustavo eventually found him and took him in because he felt bad for Totino.

Peppino feels that Totino's already got what he deserved (cause he got the everloving shit got beaten out of him, and probably had a few chunks bitten out of him by wild animals), so they're on speaking terms. Totino and Peppino generally get along, they're sort of neutral.

Totino stays in the dimension that Peppino is in, because he doesn't really know how to get back. His brother, Tonio, ran away from home a few years after Totino went to build the tower, due to family conflict. Tonio and Totino have now (as I'm writing this, April 22nd, 2023) have been reunited [yippie!!!] Totino is probably scared to go back to his home dimension because he would have to tell Giorgio [his dad] that he failed, and the fact that he didn't beat Peppino lol, that and as mentioned above, he doesn't know how to get back. He doesn't really feel a necessity or urgency to get back because he's back in contact with his brother.

Pizzahead just sort of hangs out with the Pizza Tower crew (Peppino, Gustavo, Mr. Stick, Noise, etc...), and Peppino just simply tolerates his goofy shenanigans.

Fun fact headcanons:

Pizzahead's home dimension is permanently just stuck in the mid 1930s lol

Pizzahead's home dimension is a monarchy. Giorgio (Pizzaface) is the current ruler.

Pizzahead sounds like Gene Wilder while talking and singing. [specifically his role in Willy Wonka]

Pizzahead is childhood friends with Pepperman and Vigilante. I haven't given them real names yet because I can't think of any rn lol!!!!!

Pizzahead is probably around 25-30 years old, his birthday is June 2nd.

Pizzahead doesn't mind being called Pizzahead. He actually thinks it's a funny nickname.

Pizzahead mostly listens to older music, stuff like The Chordettes and Al Bowly, Vera Lynn, Irving Berlin, stuff like that.

Pizzahead will get mad and nauseous if someone eats pizza in his vicinity.

Pizzahead is scared of humans, mostly because some humans will try to eat his fucking limbs most of the time.

Pizzahead isn't very durable. His skin (cheese) will start melting off at temperatures above 95-100 degrees. His limbs will also easily break or dislocate because they're literally made of baked dough. He can technically be eaten, but he can regenerate over time, or be fixed quickly by being put in an oven. If he is damaged too much, like a large portion of his limbs getting removed, or his head being decapitated, he will have to be re-made, probably by a pizza chef like Peppino. He also bleeds pizza sauce.

Pizzahead is literally a walking cartoon character. He can make random things appear, like comically large wooden mallets or a stick of dynamite. He also moves like a rubber-hose animation character.

Pizza people (such as Pizzahead) are vegetarians. They won't eat anything that is on pizza, like bread, cheese, tomatos, etc. They mostly eat random houseplants, and random plants in the wild. They technically can just eat wood from trees, too, which is a really fucking funny image to me.

Pizzahead is VERY tall. He is 8'5. His younger brother, Tonio, is 7'8. Giorgio is 10'2.

Peppino and Pizzahead somewhat get along. Pizzahead just likes to annoy him and play pranks on him.

#pizzaface #pizza tower #pizza tower headcanon #pizzahead #pizza tower peppino #peppino spaghetti #GaetacioneAU

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grandhotelabyss · 11 months

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It's fkn insane that Toni Morrison, shouldering most of the responsibility, successfully raised two children, while publishing The Bluest Eye, Sula, Song of Solomon, Tar Baby, and starting on Beloved, all before they turned 20 lmao. HOW. But in general, for men, is good writing incompatible with good parenting? Joyce seemed more cruel to Stanislaus than he did to his children, if he was ever cruel to Giorgio or Lucia. He may have been blind like Milton, and a drunk like Faulkner, but he wasn't a mean blind, nor a mean drunk. (A mean blind would have made for a great O'Connor character.)

Yes, she was prodigious. The 9-to-5 job would have killed me more than the parenting. I've never found creative work and wage work at all compatible, speaking only for myself. The posture of cringing servility into which it forces one, and for mostly worthless purposes, just the soul-dead busywork of a service economy, can't help but spoil the freedom of the imagination all day long. I wasn't born to an economic class whose members are able to avoid the 9-to-5, but I've had to find a way. Of Sontag, who was born into the same class I was, Sigrid Nunez observed that she judged it degrading to take any job. (Aside from Morrison, the great writers with day jobs—Eliot, Stevens, Williams—were lyric poets. And Morrison's novels got longer and looser and denser and more complex once she quit.) Teaching has been the only exception to my personal ban on remunerative labor, but that's not really a job—just talking about books and ideas and making jokes, which I'd do for free. Other people, however, find teaching intolerable vis-à-vis their art, more intolerable than they'd find clerking in a bank or stocking shelves or waiting tables. Everyone's different.

As for Joyce: far be it from me to sit in smug judgment on anyone's personal life, but, as an alcoholic also averse to the 9-to-5 and, still more, committed against commercial literature, he subjected his children to more instability than could possibly have been good for them in their early lives. I respect his quixotic quest—in part I share it—but it's a quest his kids didn't ask to join him on.

I believe there will always be tension between any serious vocation and more settled forms of domestic and/or working life. "Can women have it all?" feminists sometimes debate. Of course they can't. No one has it all. What man has ever had it all? Because everybody's life is different, I don't make specific recommendations to humanity in general—the only thing there's more of online than porn is unsolicited advice—I would just suggest that, since we can't commit to everything, we should choose our commitments carefully.

#literature #creative writing

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mariacallous · 1 year

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Silvio Berlusconi, Italy’s longest-reigning post-World War II leader, wanted nothing more than for people to love him. Whether he was on the global stage or the stage of the cruise ship where he first worked as a singer, the former Italian prime minister, who died Monday at 86, was always working the crowd in a desperate search for approval.

Though Berlusconi officially left politics in a black limousine in November 2011—delivering his resignation to Italian President Giorgio Napolitano in Rome’s Quirinale Palace—he remained highly influential as a political powerbroker until his death.

It was a confidence vote over tax fraud allegations that forced his departure from office. After resigning, the former statesman sat slumped in the back of his dark limo as his driver slalomed through unfriendly crowds that lined the route to his tony villa, the Piazza Venezia. Spectators popped champagne corks in his direction, threw coins, and spat at his car yelling profanities and calling him a mafioso and a thief. A small ensemble played the “Hallelujah” chorus from George Frideric Handel’s “Messiah.” It was a spectacle only Italians could pull off with such flair.

Another government collapse meant little in Italy, but there was something spectacular about Berlusconi’s fall from grace. The “Teflon Don,” as he had been known before finally being ousted, was tarnished by a sex scandal in 2010 involving then-17-year-old dancer Karima El Mahroug, whose stage name was “Ruby Rubacuori” (Ruby Heartbreaker). Berlusconi had sprung her from a Milan police station after she called one of his assistants, who was aware that Ruby knew a lot more than most young women in Berlusconi’s lewd circle. The Ruby scandal started with Berlusconi’s office calling the Milan police station to say the young woman in question was Egyptian leader Hosni Mubarak’s granddaughter, which she was not. What she was, though, was a regular fixture in the “Bunga Bunga” parties the prime minister, also known as “Il Cavaliere” (The Knight), held in the basement of his Villa Arcore near Milan.

Women who participated in the soirees during nights of lap dancing for Berlusconi cronies—including strippers costumed as nuns, popes, and former U.S. President Barack Obama—told the courts during many investigations into Berlusconi that they were handed envelopes with cash and little gold necklaces with butterflies on them as payment at the end of each party.

By this time, Berlusconi had already been accused of what in most countries would be full-blown sex scandals but which are in Italy, for reasons not entirely clear, often empowering. Ruby was somehow different, however, not least because she was under the age of 18. The age of consent in Italy is 16, but the age of legal prostitution is 18, and she was—in the eyes of the law—prostituting herself to Berlusconi and his cronies. His defense was that she misled him about her age.

Berlusconi apparently learned the name “Bunga Bunga” from the late Libyan leader Muammar al-Qaddafi, who often pitched his Bedouin tents in some of Rome’s most lavish gardens on state visits and who was himself accused of abducting underage girls and holding them captive as sex slaves. The two leaders had an unusually close relationship, which led to Berlusconi signing a treaty in 2008 that funneled $5 billion to the North African nation to compensate for Italy’s colonization. In return, Qaddafi stopped the flow of African migrants crossing the Mediterranean Sea from Libya, while warning he could again “turn on the spigot and turn Europe black.” Berlusconi’s face even graced Libyan passports in the years before Qaddafi was killed during Libya’s civil war.

Berlusconi’s legacy ebbed and flowed as those he chose to embrace rose or fell into disgrace. He was considered U.S. President George W. Bush’s “second-best European friend” and stood up for U.S. President Bill Clinton when he was found to have had a sexual relationship with White House intern Monica Lewinsky. But it was his relationship with Russian President Vladimir Putin that would prove his most difficult and most damaging.

The two men made headlines when an escort wrote in her 2008 tell-all book that she had sex with Berlusconi in his Rome residence on a four-poster bed he referred to as “Putin’s bed.” The white bed, which she described as “having curtains at the top,” was almost certainly a wink-wink gift from one self-considered stud to another. In exchange, Berlusconi gave Putin a comforter cover featuring a real photo of the two men shaking hands and smiling ear-to-ear.

When Russia invaded Ukraine, it took Berlusconi more than a month to condemn the friend with whom he often shared his holiday homes in Sardinia, spawning an enclave for Russian oligarchs. Shortly after the war began, he told reporters that he thought “Europe must make a peace proposal, trying to get the Ukrainians to accept Putin’s demands.” He finally admitted his old friend Vlad was wrong, saying he was “disappointed and saddened” by his actions.

Not unlike former U.S. President Donald Trump—another “Teflon Don” to whom Berlusconi hated being compared—Berlusconi was the first Italian prime minister to lead the country without ever having served as an elected official. Though the two men shared similar styles, Berlusconi was a highly educated man whose grasp on geopolitics was impressive.

During an interview that former Newsweek foreign editor Christopher Dickey and I did with Berlusconi at his palatial Roman abode, he was flanked by aides and assistants he could have called on to answer any question. Instead, he spoke knowledgeably about Middle Eastern politics, named leaders from far-flung countries, provided insights on U.S. political debates, and gave us a read on nearly every country in Europe—how their leaders were faring and what the biggest geopolitical issues were at the time—all while his aides were left to chew idly on their croissants.

Berlusconi was born to a bank employee and a housewife in 1936. He would spend years taking his mother Rosa with him to meet world leaders, and she was often at his side at state dinners. She died in 2008. His sister Maria Francesca Antonietta died a year after their mother, and his brother and sometimes business partner Paolo is often in the sights of financial police.

One of his first jobs was as a vacuum salesman, and he moonlighted as a cruise ship singer throughout the 1960s. Later in life, between political successes, he wrote songs and published albums of Neapolitan ballads that are still widely played across Italy.

He graduated with honors from law school in 1961 and married his first wife, Carla Elvira Dall’Oglio, in 1965. Though they would divorce, she is perhaps the only woman who never told the tabloids anything about their relationship. She was maintained financially throughout her life, given a monthly alimony payment that has never been made public but which was apparently enough to keep her from succumbing to the barrage of media requests asking her to talk about her ex. The children he had with her, Marina and Pier Silvio, played crucial roles in his extensive media and real estate investments.

In the 1980s, Berlusconi married his second wife, Veronica Lario, with whom he fell in love (by his own account, during his interview with me and Dickey) when she performed topless at a dance in Milan. He went on to have three children with her (Barbara in 1984, Eleonora in 1986, and Luigi in 1988). They divorced amid spectacular scandal in 2009, when she announced in an op-ed for a left-leaning newspaper that she was leaving him because he “consorts with minors.” He was ordered to pay her an annual alimony of $48 million to maintain the lifestyle he had created for her. By then, Berlusconi was a billionaire many times over.

Berlusconi started his real estate business with a housing development for young professionals in Milan’s smartest suburb, aiming to create a posh enclave for a lifestyle-driven clientele. The money for his initial investment remained of questionable origin until his death, with many prosecutors unsuccessfully trying to prove it was driven by the mafia.

He went on to build a media empire off his real estate profits and was the first to introduce American-style sitcoms to Italian audiences through his first television networks, including Telemilano, which he launched in 1974, and Canale 5, which he started in 1980. He created what is now Italy’s largest commercial broadcaster, Mediaset, importing American programs including “General Hospital” and “Dallas,” with which he was obsessed. But he also introduced rampant sexism with programs featuring scantily-clad women pandering to older men—the women rarely spoke beyond introducing commercial breaks or replying that they didn’t know the answer to a question to open up a segment—a style of TV that persists today and which is blamed in part for the country’s strong patriarchal grip on society.

He continued to invest substantial profits in real estate, publishing, commercial stores, and the AC Milan soccer club, which he runs under the umbrella group Fininvest. That group includes more than 150 businesses and has been the target of perhaps as many investigations, trials, and fines for creative bookkeeping.

Seizing on Italy’s obsession with sports, Berlusconi launched his own political party in 1994 called “Forza Italia” (Forward Italy), the cry Italian fans yell at the World Cup and national competitions. He went on to serve three times as prime minister: from May 1994 to January 1995, from June 2001 to May 2006, and from May 2008 to November 2011.

His tenure was peppered by tax fraud accusations, sex scandals, whispers of mafia involvement, and gaffes. He was convicted of bribery, tax evasion, and having sex with an underage call girl—convictions that mostly were overturned during Italy’s generous appellate process. At least twice, his eventual acquittals were the result of his own government changing the laws. In 2014, he served community service for a tax fraud conviction the previous year.

Berlusconi frequently said he had done more for women than anyone else in Italy, including appointing a former topless Perilli calendar model as his minister of equal opportunity. But as much of the rest of the world moved to equalize salaries and combat blatant sexism, Italy remains demonstrably far behind most developed countries. Italy consistently scores low in the World Economic Forum’s annual gender report, with fewer women managers and decision makers than other European countries and extremely low paternity leave benefits, suggesting women are the main caretakers for children.

Berlusconi suffered several health issues, including heart problems that kept him in and out of the hospital—this often happened when he had a trial date for one of his many cases on appeal—and he suffered serious COVID-19 symptoms early in the pandemic. He also suffered multiple lacerations and a fractured nose when someone threw a souvenir statue of the Milan Duomo at him in 2009 as he signed autographs at a campaign rally. In April 2023, he was diagnosed with leukemia.

Yet he remained a powerful figure until the end, even winning a seat in the Italian Senate in 2022. But he will likely be remembered most for his gaffes and scandals, including when he famously called German Chancellor Angela Merkel “unfuckable” on a hot mic and publicly called Obama’s Black skin a “tan.”

Some of his adoring followers called for a state funeral long before he died. His foes blamed him for Italy’s ruinous economic state and hard-to-deny struggle with following rules. For many, it might be tempting to think of him as a pathetic joke, but he was far too wealthy and powerful for that.

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