Top Dog, Carnevale, This Afternoon

By Candlelight and Satellite, Tonight

Your Chance to Visit an 18th Century Casino (and This Year's Carnevale) Online

Alessandro Bressanello (left) and Bruno Spolaore

Though every Venetian I've ever talked to about Carnevale's rebirth in 1979 has fond memories of its early years--each person inevitably refers to Carnevale in that period as being distinguished by a community spirit long since vanished--there are very few residents over the age of 8 or so who admit to taking much interest in it these days. Almost without exception it's seen as something for tourists, with almost nothing to offer those who live here.

Last Sunday, however, I was reminded by a marvelous production put on at the Museum of Palazzo Mocenigo that there are notable exceptions to this tourist orientation. Il Giocatore di Biribissi was an engaging, funny, and, yes, educational two-man play about a charismatic and voluble gambler (memorably played by Alessandro Bressanello) and his faithful servant and foil (played with an equal if necessarily more simple-hearted charm by Bruno Spolaore).

During the course of the performance the audience was introduced to and invited to play the two games of the Ridotto: the biribissi of the title (a forerunner of roulette, with illustrations rather than numbers on which to place your bet, and winning cards drawn out of a bag), and the card game basetta. In fact, the performance ultimately presented, and evoked, nothing less than the history of state-sanctioned gaming in Venice: from the first tables set up between the twin columns on the Molo by the man who'd finally devised a way to raise upright the massive trophies looted from the East, through the establishment of the Ridotto (the state's own gambling house) in 1638, to its closure in 1774 (in the interest of protecting, or vainly trying to re-establish, the city's moral sense).       

There's a lot for the actors to accomplish in less than an hour--character development, history, demonstrations and audience participation, allusions to present-day Venice--but everything was held together by the rapport of Bressanello and Spolaore as they developed the over-arching story of a gambler whose own time has passed living in a Republic that's pretty clearly on its last legs.

You can watch a video of this production on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UW_kUMCpkgg. Most of the audience participation and other elements not essential to the plot are deleted to leave it with a brisk running time of under 28 minutes. 

For those interested in an evocation of Carnevale and of Venice's past--and even if you don't speak Italian, or Venetian (also used)--it's worth a look. The actors's performances are likely to carry you along even if you don't know what they're saying.

Moreover, a demonstration of basetta can be found at the 4:40 mark, and of biribissi at 16:10.

More generally, this video is a good reminder that some of the most compelling events of Carnevale occur away from Piazza San Marco and its crowds: often in the city's museums, and often in Italian. They're worth seeking out. 

Bressanello introduces audience members to the game of basetta

An inveterate gambler is no stranger to all kinds of pain...

...but a purse filled with schèi (money) is a great restorative

A biribissi board is visible atop the table

Today's Flight of the Angel, and The Glory of Ancient Rome

The flight of the angel, as viewed through a window of the Museo Correr

And after admiring works from antiquity in the National Archaeological Museum of Venice (now part of the Museo Correr), I walked out to find ancient Rome in the living flesh

Low and Dry: Bacino Orseolo, This Evening

What comes in, must go out--and sometimes it really goes out.

Located just a few meters north of Piazza San Marco, this basin is usually one of the busiest gondola departure points in the city. This evening it was just a deserted puddle. 

Carnevale Is Launched Once More in the Light of Day

As always, the giant rat leads the way

I found out this year that, because of the curve of the Grand Canal, it's possible to watch the entire opening corteo of Carnevale twice over: the first time from near the San Silvestro vaporetto stop, and then again, after not much of a walk, from near Ca' Pesaro.

Anyone who happened to see my post on last year's opening corteo is likely to have their own experience of déjà vu, as a couple of the crews below were also pictured last year. But for those members of the local rowing clubs who participate in the event, as well as those residents who see it each year, repetition is part of the ritual.

A vaporetto crew resorts to oars for one day only

I'm pretty sure that the man dressed as a baker up front really is a baker--I've seem him teach a kids' workshop on bread-making. But I doubt that the person dressed as a plague doctor behind him actually practices that profession.

What would the Carnevale season be without its pastries?

Taking to the air on water

Lodge on the Grand Canal and you can watch the opening parade in your pajamas, as above. A waggish fully-costumed rower participating in the corteo shouted his compliments up to this woman for her own choice of costume.

A vaporetto tilts rather alarmingly as its passengers press to one side to see the passing corteo

Rowers in this caorlina are dressed as the water gates of the MOSE barrier system, but to truly represent that project they would have had to somehow flounder incompetently in place while simultaneously robbing everyone around them.   

Speaking of crowds...

Carnevale Opens Tonight with Boats--and Overwhelming Crowds (updated Jan 29)

A glimpse of the water parade

"I live in Venice, it's not only for tourism!" an older woman with a shopping trolley in tow announced angrily (in Italian) to no one in particular as she squeezed past us along the wall of a narrow calle, struggling upstream against the traffic flow. Or, well, flow isn't quite the right word, as this occurred during one of the many times tonight when we found ourselves packed in tight with countless others at a dead standstill.

Though she deserves points for her defiance, I doubt the woman herself believed what she was saying. She was whistling into the face of a hurricane and she, like every other resident here, couldn't help but know it: Venice is all about, and almost only about, tourism.

In any case, the Russians and Germans and Americans and French crammed in around us had no idea what she was saying.

My main take-way from this evening's opening water parade--which was both far more crowded and considerably less inspired than the one I attended three years ago--was that city authorities can surround the area where it was held (Rio di Cannaregio) with all the security personnel and barriers and signage, doing their utmost to regulate traffic flow, and still end up providing attendees with a pretty poor experience. Or at least poor if your goal as an attendee was to actually see anything on the water.

I suppose my other take-away from the water parade (or any similar Carnevale event) is that if you're planning to go you should arrive very early. Perhaps this is obvious, but it bears a mention. The parade is performed twice on opening night--at 6 and 8 pm--and it seems the 6 pm performance was no less packed than the 8 pm one we attended, according to a new post by Gregory Dowling (a novelist, literary scholar, Ca' Foscari professor, and long-time Venice resident, whose two Venice-based historical mysteries deserve a place on the reading list of anyone interested in the city: http://gregorydowling.com/books/):

It had been decided beforehand that no more than 20,000 would be allowed access to the area, with everyone required to show photo-ID. The show was due to start at 6pm; by 5.20pm that number had already been exceeded. There were far more people outside the privileged zone than there were inside and the narrow street between the station and the Canal was soon jammed solid. (Please click here to read his full account.)

But the overcrowding of tonight's parade is just another example of the overcrowding to which much of the historic center is subject during Carnevale. An owner of one of the few shops on the Ruga Rialto that sells anything residents might actually need, told me last year that on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, as well as special days like Fat Tuesday, the calle was so crowded as to make it hard to pass from one side to the other. (Though, alas, all that foot traffic didn't translate into increased sales for him.)

Tonight was the first attempt by city authorities to regulate traffic during Carnevale--they are also talking of closing off Piazza San Marco, for example, after a certain number of people arrive there (an idea which is long overdue). But the dangerous overcrowding, and the potential for a real disaster in the event of any kind of mass panic, is not limited to just Piazza San Marco. A danger to which (as tonight showed) authorities have yet to find an solution--even as they've consistently resisted various strategies for limiting crowds pouring into the city.

City officials have shown little concern (actually, no concern) over the problems such overcrowding causes residents like the woman with the shopping cart tonight. But it's not only residents like her who have noticed the problem, as can be seen by the publication just a few days ago of a CNN piece entitled 12 Destinations Travelers Might Want to Avoid in 2018.* And for a city that's all about tourism, this is the kind of bad press that should concern them. 
 

If you're a people person--specifically of the sort who loves to find yourself trapped blindly in densely-packed crowds--you would have loved tonight's festivities. 

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NOTE
*Like nearly every English-language publication I've seen, this CNN article propagates the false claim that "in fact, there are now plans to prevent cruise liners sailing up the Giudecca canal."

The new plans would allow cruise ships of 55,000 tons or less to continue to pass through the basin of San Marco past the Palazzo Ducale--which is a very different thing from "preventing cruise liners" from taking that route.

As a visual guide to what an approximately 55,000 ton ship looks like, consider the image below of the 55,820 gross-ton Pacific Aria.