Numero zero

A huddled editorial team that prepares a newspaper destined, more than for information, for blackmail, for the mud machine, for poor services for its publisher. A paranoid editor who, wandering around a hallucinated Milan (or hallucinated for a normal Milan), reconstructs the story of fifty years against the backdrop of a sulphurous plane built around the putrefied corpse of a pseudo Mussolini. And in the shadows Gladio, the P2, the assassination of Pope Luciani, the coup d’état of Junio Valerio Borghese, the CIA, the red terrorists manipulated by the confidential affairs offices, twenty years of massacres and misdirections, a set of facts inexplicable that seem invented until a BBC broadcast proves that they are true, or at least that they are now confessed by their authors. And then a corpse suddenly enters the scene in the narrowest and most infamous street in Milan. A slender love story between two protagonists who are losers by nature, a failed ghost writer and a disturbing girl who dropped out of university to help her family and specialized in gossip about affectionate friendships, but still cries over the second movement of the Seventh by Beethoven. A perfect manual for bad journalism that the reader gradually doesn’t know if invented or simply taken live. A story that takes place in 1992 in which many mysteries and madnesses of the following twenty years are foreshadowed, just as the two protagonists think that the nightmare is over. A bitter and grotesque story that takes place in Europe from the end of the war to the present day.