Oliviero Olivari (1882–1975)

Olivari was born in the province of Mantua and moved to Genoa in 1908, where he was a municipal clerk in the registry office for more than forty years. From a young age he wrote for newspapers; he later discovered his passion for theater as early as 1920 with Feua de colisse for Rosetta Mazzi’s company, then with Ægua ciæa a n’ammaccia in 1923 for Riccardo Pittaluga, and O vexin (1927) for Gilberto Govi, up to the one-act plays of half an hour each, broadcast by RAI after the war, such as O fæto de çioule (1956) and Pittaluga and Sciaccaluga (1966). Olivari’s name is linked precisely to the custom of the whole family gathering around the radio every Sunday at two o’clock after lunch, to “hear Genoese being spoken” at least once in a while, a custom that lasted until 1970, when RAI suppressed the broadcast, for various reasons. Among other names from those years that kept us glued to the radio during holidays we must also remember V. E. Petrucci, C. P. Pessino, E. Balbi, L. Anselmi, G. Marzari, P. Guidoni. In order to give his writing a more lively and forthright intonation, Olivari worked alongside his friend Eugenio Monchiero, and it must be said that the quality of the Genoese they used is remarkable (apart from the usual spelling fluctuations). The plots of Olivari’s comedies are exceedingly simple and the characters often lapse into stereotypes, but there is no denying that – reading and listening to them again – a certain flavor of the Genoa of yesteryear lingers in the air and in the memory.

Merli e roscigneu (1946)

Two hunters who are prone to telling lies spend the night in an inland town, where everyone has a passion for opera. To bum a dinner from them they lead them to believe that they are two opera singers, but in doing so they find themselves forced to promise them a performance for the following evening, and they even raise the hopes, not only artistic, of a failed singer, the pharmacist’s wife. They do not know how to get out of trouble elegantly, but chance will come to their rescue.

Leonöra

Oh, ma eccellense… scià me permettan, in nomme de l’arte, a libertæ… e pöi, mi scignoa e loro cavalieri… sciâ compatian, veo? (solenne) Ma… scià ô san ben che è pericoloso e nocivo accingersi alle nobil fatiche del canto con un steumago pin de çibbo…

Nicòlla

Mai ciù… mai ciù… vea, Doardo? … pe noiatri, ançi…

Doardo

… ançi, ciù gh’emmo o trippin inscio de röba, e cantemmo ancon ciù ben!

Nicòlla

(sottovoce) Oua stà à sentî cöse ghe conto! (ad alta voce) Scià se figure, sciâ Leonòra, che unna vòtta a-o Carlo Feliçe son montou in scena into Trovatore che aveivo collou un grilletto coscì de trenette co-o pesto… un quarto de bibin à ròsto, formaggio, dosci, fruta e unna bottiggia de barbera… e ghe garantiscio che n’ò mai cantou coscì ben «Di quella pira l’orrendo foco», con quello «dò» che à momenti o fa deruâ o tiatro da-e cioccate de man… Mi creddo che o segge stæto o bibin à dâme quello bello sponcion de «dò» de peto!

Leonöra

Oh, ma comme scià l’é spiritoso!… mi me demoo un mondo!

Doardo

(c. s.) Stà à sentî, Nicòlla, che bomba te ghe sparo mi oua. (ad alta voce) Se sciâ savesse, sciâ Leonöra, cöse m’é capitou à mi à Milan. Cantavo o «Barbiere» a-a Scala. I amixi zeneixi e milaneixi m’an vosciuo à çeña con lô. Risòtto co-e triffoe, cappon in gelatiña, pescio con maioneise, formaggio, træ fette de panetton, fruta, vin in abondansa, licori, cafè… Quande son montou in palcoscenico boffavo comme unna machina da ferrovia, segge pe-o cado che pe-a pansa piña… Eo rosso comme un biscion… O direttô d’orchestra gh’é vegnuo mezo açidente… e o l’avià dito: questo chì o l’é imbriægo desfæto… o direttô de scena gh’é vegnuo da patî into sbirciâme… E ben, caa sciâ Leonöa, o l’é stæto un trionfo mon… dia... lee! A famosa cavatiña l’ò dovua non bissare… e manco trissare… ma quadrissare!

Leonöra

Oh, ma che spiritosi!… e quande a l’é coscì, bon appetitto, eccellense, e per molti anni!