I don’t wont to take part in this struggle because, you’ve to know, it’s a struggle between two sides. When I was a child, I was with the cow boys against Sioux, I was with Mickey Mouse against the Beagle Boys. Now that I’m older, just a little bit, probably I’ll have a chance to understand that borders are often smooth and made to be broken.
I don’t wont to take part in this struggle, I don’t really know if barolo history has been made by the “olds” with the big barrel or by the “youngs” with the barrique, by the fathers of the “big quantity” or by the “sons” who cut the grapes and leave them fall on the ground. Probably history, as history itself would be able to explain, take origin from a synthesis…and a synhtesis is always full of pain.
Neverthless I can’t stop to be fascinated, I can say this without any kind of fear, by Elio Altare’s words. I can’t stop to be fascinated by that age, that strain, that “affronto” as he defined it in the movie. And I don’t absolutely care if his barolo is better than his father’s one, or not. What is important for me is wine, that once more tells us about life, about times, about evolution. Our evolution.
So Barolo Boys simply were what we all were one time ago. What we were in that wonderful and painful moment when we had to decide to leave our house our nest and to fly, to live. When we had do decide what to do and what to be.
Because, as I often said to myself, to leave and to change, doesn’t not mean to abandon or to repudiate. And I think there are only two ways to die: not moving or moving without having inside what others before us teached to us.
So, probably, before “Barolo Boys” they were, simply, boys.