Paolo Bonacelli, a man who has remained indelible in the memory of cinema, television, and the stage, died last night in Rome at the age of 88.

Born in Civita Castellana on February 28, 1937, a graduate of the Academy of Dramatic Arts in Rome, and called to debut by Vittorio Gassman in "Questa sera si recita a soggetto" with the Teatro Popolare in 1962, Bonacelli immediately proved a formidable stage animal. His powerful voice made him noticeable even by those sitting in the back row, his corpulent yet agile physique opened up a range of very different characterizations, and the flexibility of his voice, with a sanguine diction and tones that effortlessly shifted from persuasive to resounding, allowed him to bring to life the great protagonists of the theater, from Shakespeare to Pinter, from Sartre to Moliere, even if he was always linked to modern, alienating, ironic and surreal characters bordering on the absurd.

His is the generation of Glauco Mauri, Gianni Santuccio, Massimo De Francovich, and Romolo Valli: protagonists capable of filling the stage without the posturing of old-time theater managers, but with a charisma that becomes art. Paolo Bonacelli remained attached to the theater his entire life, also for that subtle pleasure of life "in company," a different city every night, which for him, a refined gourmet, often translated into searching for the restaurant where "you can eat well," getting angry with colleagues and friends if he found it closed after the show . To immediately understand the kind of person and artist he was, it's worth revisiting his reading of "The Three Musketeers," conducted in its entirety for Radio Rai. Here, one immediately understands how Bonacelli could simultaneously be the Gascon D'Artagnan, the elegant Aramis, the tormented Athos, and the hedonistic Porthos.

He was everyone and no one, having always rejected the identification between actor and character.

"I am not the one I bring to the stage," he said, "rather, I am the companion of the author's imagination, which I read in the words of the text and strive to bring to life for the audience. But when the curtain falls, I am left only Paolo, with my life and my passions." If the theater was Bonacelli's "wife," it is thanks to a generous "lover" like cinema that his face became popular in Italy and around the world.

Today, everyone remembers him as the lawyer in "Johnny Stecchino" with his friend Benigni, with that memorable scene of the car and traffic that ruined Palermo; the sailor in "Comandante" with Edoardo De Angelis; and, above all, the terrifying fascist in "Salò," Pier Paolo Pasolini's prophetic last film. As a young man, Bonacelli had already arrived on the set in the early 1960s and had caught Mario Mattoli's attention with a classy role in "Cadavere per signora" in 1964.

Since then he has worked with all the greatest, from Scola to Montaldo, from Bologninj to Liliana Cavani (in a memorable "Francesco" alongside Mickey Rourke), from Rossellini to Francesco Rosi (unforgettable in "Christ Stopped at Eboli") ; Antonioni and Bellocchio wanted him, but he never turned away from popular cinema and can also be found in comedies such as "Rimini Rimini" or "Io speranza che me la cavo". While in recent years he had rejected several proposals for TV dramas, the history of Rai is dotted with his appearances, from "I racconti di Padre Brown" with Renato Rascel (1965) to "Promessi sposi" by Salvatore Nocita, often relying on TV veterans such as Daniele D'Anza or Sandro Bolchi, but also on film authors such as Damiano Damiani or Carlo Lizzani.

Paolo Bonacelli's total filmography far exceeds 100 titles . He was last seen at the Venice Film Festival with Julian Schnabel's "In the land of Dante".

(Unioneonline)

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