Pasolini’s Ambivalent Love-Hate Poetry in “Fabulation”, “Orgy” and “Pigsty”

Author di Andrew Korn

This article examines the poetry of ambivalence in Pier Paolo Pasolini’s verse plays Affabulazione (Fabulation, written 1966-69), Orgia (Orgy, written 1966-1969) and Porcile (Pigsty, written 1967-1969)[1]. Pasolini began writing these plays, along with three others – Bestia da stile (Beast of Style, written 1966-1974), Pilade (Pylades, written 1966-1968) and Calderón (written 1967-1973) – after his ulcer attack in 1966. He continually revised the texts until 1974, finalizing only Calderón for publication in a volume in 1973 before his assassination two years later. His plays are “bourgeois tragedies”. “Bourgeois”, because he writes them about and for this class: the «addressee is my enemy, it is the bourgeoisie that goes to the theater»[2]. By the mid-1960s, imborghesimento, or “bourgeoisification” – advanced capitalism’s triggering of the peasantry’s, subproletariat’s and proletariat’s assimilations to the petite bourgeoisie – had become too pervasive for Pasolini, making his critique of it even more pressing. For him, modernity in Italy, and in the West more generally, was not the dawn of what Wolfgang Welsch describes as a progressive “transculturality”, or mutual hybridization of different cultures, but one of petit-bourgeois homogenization or globalization, in which bourgeois cultural hegemony forces minoritarian cultures into crude assimilation[3]. Pasolini could no longer indirectly critique bourgeoisification through his Gramscian “national-popular” art, but had to do it head-on, through his “unresolved” art at the theater – Italy’s bourgeois artistic institution par excellence since the Renaissance.

The classic dramatic genre that acts as the bourgeoisie’s mirror is “tragedy”, because bourgeoisification is a destructive process. For Pasolini, bourgeois subjectivity – an entire way of thinking and being – is continually seduced, haunted and brought to destructiveness by the memories, people and places of the premodern world in which that subjectivity has its origins, both in Italy and in Europe more generally. In Pasolini’s mythification, this premodern world – extending from the countryside to the città di provincia, or province town – possessed a sense of the sacred; that is, the body and nature were more central and integral in human experience. In his interview with Jean Duflot, he explains how «bourgeois civilization» replaced the «sense of the sacred» of the preceding «peasant civilization» with the «ideology of wealth and power» and how, consequently, the «tragic is precisely the definitive break in this [ideology’s] continuity. The sacred’s eruption into everyday life»[4]. After having uprooted themselves from their popular origins, Pasolini’s protagonists reexperience the sacred and undergo conversion: they become aware that their values of extreme rationalism, wealth and power have not provided them with real fulfillment and meaning, but have driven them into states of inter- and intrasubjective emptiness, devoid of love, passion and community. In the interview, Pasolini explains the sacred’s persistence in modernity: being «sacred remains juxtaposed to being desecrated […] I have made, like everyone, thousands of successive overcomings, but the facts of my (infantile) sexuality have remained there, inside of me, exactly the same, despite having been progressively overcome in the course of my history»[5]. His vision of history sees modernization, not as absorbing and eliminating the sacred, but rather as “juxtaposing” itself to the sacred, which remains intact. Correlating this view to one of individual subjectivity, he identifies specifically “infantile sexuality” as a representative of the sacred that civilization displaces, yet never erases. Pasolini’s form of tragedy – his “bourgeois tragic” – is this contrast without synthesis between the premodern world and modern subjectivity that destroys that subjectivity.

Of the six dramas, Fabulation, Orgy and Pigsty most cohesively stage this contrast at the heart of Pasolini’s bourgeois tragic. They are allegories of the uncanny return of the sacred in the bourgeois family. In each play, Italy’s premodern world returns, as a virtual or material reality, and precipitates the protagonist’s tragedy. In Fabulation, the affluent Father has a dream of a homoerotic episode from his infancy, after which he attempts to make love to his son, even if it entails their demises. In Orgy, a middleclass couple, the Man and Woman, struggles to actualize their memories of their childhood loves through self-destructive sadomasochistic rituals. Similarly, in Pigsty, the son of West German industrialists, Julian, has an attraction to their estate’s peasants and pigs that leads to his self-annihilating bestial rituals. The sacred by which these characters are fatally seduced is the flesh, corporeality. It is what Stefania Benini calls Pasolini’s «immanent sacred», which «does not belong to a transcendental horizon but, rather, pertains to a hic et nunc corporeal dimension, which inscribes in the flesh – in its eros and even more in its thanatos, in its scandalous finitude – the presence of the real»[6]. It is the flesh’s very material presence, its sensuality, which Pasolini’s characters consecrate, and also desecrate in these texts.

To a certain extent, Pasolini defines the sacred as Freudian infantile sexuality. Freud’s influence on Pasolini is well known, and the author even cites the father of psychoanalysis in Fabulation and in Pigsty’s screenplay[7]. For Freud, as for Pasolini’s protagonists, infantile love is always affectionate and carnal, excites the desire to touch, is polymorphously perverse and can be an alloy of the sex and death drives, displaying sadomasochistic qualities[8]. His protagonist endures bourgeoisification like Freudian repression: it displaces the individual’s love, continually provoking him or her to retrieve his or her lost oneness with the mother’s womb or, for Pasolini, even the father’s arms, and producing his or her ambivalent attitude, where he or she is «constantly wishing to perform this act [of love] […] and detests it as well»[9]. The protagonist’s hate towards his or her love-object begins to overshadow his or her original aim of amorous union, increasingly transforming it into destructive union. The protagonist’s civilization that repressed the sacred and represses its return only exacerbates his or her infantile desire, propagating his or her love-hate and destructiveness towards love-objects. Marcuse, in Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud (1955), theorizes how this exacerbated sexuality manifests itself. Marcuse’s impact on Pasolini is also well documented, and the author even cites the theorist’s text in his production’s program as partially informing Orgy’s ideology[10]. Marcuse elaborates Freud’s conclusion in Civilization and Its Discontents (1930) that sexuality and, analogously, subjectivity and civilization are products of the dialectic of the sex and death drives, explaining repression in terms of Eros and Thanatos. For him, the mid-twentieth century’s late industrial civilization is especially illustrative of one that efficiently builds itself by sublimating Eros’ creative energies, consequently desiccating Eros and its capacity to counterbalance Thanatos and its destructive energies[11].

While Eros continually renounces its original objectives for sublimation as socially productive interpersonal relations, sexuality and labor, what remains is Thanatos – destructiveness «not for its own sake, but for the relief of tension. The descent toward death is an unconscious flight from pain and want»[12]. Pasolini’s protagonist has this frustrated sexuality, which the sacred’s return then radically desublimates, revealing his or her sexuality’s extremeness. Marcuse explains that, when drastic desublimation takes place within repressive civilization and its repressed subjectivity, this «dominion […] explodes suppressed sexuality […] and [that sexuality] manifests itself in the hideous forms so well known in the history of civilization; in the sadistic and masochistic orgies of desperate masses […] Such release of sexuality provides a periodically necessary outlet for unbearable frustration; it strengthens rather than weakens the roots of instinctual constraint […]»[13]. To sate his or her desiccated eros, Pasolini’s protagonist obsessively repeats the sexual act; to placate his or her aggravated thanatos, he or she exhausts his or her love-objects to eliminate frustration and reach quiescence. These two factors collide, and any kind of purer love – one that is spontaneous, reciprocal or joyful – regresses into an ambivalent love-hate, into morbid possessive ritualization. Here, sexual aggression, both sadistic and masochistic, is, for Freud, Marcuse and Pasolini, a regular component of sexuality in all societies, and not solely bourgeois society’s creation. What this society does to this component in particular is exacerbate it to the point of becoming extremely violent.

This article examines how Pasolini’s three tragedies versify their protagonists’ split desires. To describe their reunions with the sacred, his characters employ an ambivalent love-hate poetry: they pronounce a language of the flesh, articulating their original infantile desire to touch and experience the flesh, but also a language of possession, voicing their exacerbated adult sexualities that objectify and ultimately destroy that same flesh. It is important to note that sexuality and its exacerbation only partially define Pasolini’s sacred and his protagonists’ demises that its return precipitates. In truth, the sacred will encompass the entire premodern world, of which sexuality, though essential, is only a part. In these works, sexual desire is inconceivable apart from all of the other experiences of premodern Italy. For instance, in Pigsty’s screenplay, Julian succinctly states that between his Italianate villa’s «countryside and that sun and dreams, and sexual pleasure, there is no discontinuity»[14]. This article thus analyzes the sacred’s specifically sexual dimension.

Of the three plays, Fabulation most unambiguously versifies this split desire, as the Father relives the primary transformation of his infantile love into adult love-hate. One afternoon at his country villa in Brianza, north of Milan, the wealthy industrialist wakes up screaming after a dream of his infancy: he was three years old in a province town and wanted to touch the body of an older boy, who, in the dream, was simultaneously also his father. After awakening, his sacred vision materially extends into the mysterious flesh of his nineteen-year-old son, to whom he becomes desperately attracted. The text endows the Son with a sense of the sacred: he is not yet responsible for his father’s industries and he incarnates a popular-class virility. The Father’s repressed love for male youth and his father resurfaces and seeks reunion in the Son, who synthesizes male youth’s mysterious corporeality and paternal potency and authority. His dream provokes his rebirth, and he acts as if still dreaming, as if still three years old – the key age at which, for Freud, a child enters sexual life. In his first movement towards his son, the Father expresses an original love largely devoid of hate and looks to experience his son’s corporeality. He restages the Freudian primal scene as a solo act of masturbation, where he invites his son to join him. Without his wife beneath him, in absence of heterosexual intercourse, he believes masturbation will assert his resemblance to his son, as it is the sexual act par excellence of mysterious male youth:

Vedrà il mio sesso… la cui funzione, dunque,
sarà pura… senza utilità… come nelle masturbazioni del ragazzo, appunto… quando il ragazzo si sente,
nel pugno, un sesso di padre, ma privo
del privilegio e del dovere di fecondare […][15].

[H]e will see my sex… whose function, therefore,
will be pure… without utility… as in the masturbations of the boy, just like… when the boy feels,
in his fist, a father’s sex, but devoid
of the privilege and the duty to procreate […].

Imitating the «masturbations of the boy», the Father believes his son will find a male companion in him, like one of his friends with whom he undresses in the «locker rooms of the soccer fields» and erotically comes together»[16]. For the Father, his restaged scene is neither heterosexual nor incestual, but a homoerotic one between peers. He articulates his eros through imitation and in carnal terms, as the feeling of the boy’s penis, uncorrupted by social “privilege” and “duty”. However, upon seeing his nude father, the Son runs away, dissipating much of his father’s dream, frustrating his love and making him realize that loving his son is as impossible as it was to love the older boy and his father. The Father gradually abandons his sacred desire to experience his son’s penis in amorous union, desecrating it into one to possess, or to be possessed by his son’s flesh and phallic power in destructive union. Yet he never completely abandons his love, as it does not totally become hate, but is only increasingly overshadowed by it.

In his final movement towards his son, the Father takes up the knife and destroys him. He now arranges the archetypal primal scene between his son and his girlfriend, where he (now Oedipus) will meet the potency of his son (now Laius) at the threshold of their rivalry. When he bursts into their bedroom, he does not simply stab his son to death:

[M]i sono chinato sul suo corpo,
ancora caldo, e gli ho abbottonato i calzoni:
non volevo che lo trovassero in quel modo. Ho toccato, così, la piccola sfinge rinchiusa in quel grembo glorioso:
e ho capito che il suo mistero era rimasto intatto[17].

[I] bent over his body,
still hot, and buttoned up his trousers:
I did not want them to find him that way. I touched, like that, the little sphinx locked in that glorious lap:
and I understood that his mystery had remained intact.

He figures his murder as a sadistic act of love and hate: he dominates his son’s flesh, attempting to bring it to resolution, like Oedipus, as if his penis were merely a “little sphinx”, but he then reverses that hate, touching his son’s penis and experiencing his intact “mystery”. All three tragedies will figure destructiveness through these ambivalent gestures to elucidate the unconscious drive towards amorous union that that destructiveness still nevertheless implies.

Orgy and Pigsty no longer display this primary prohibition of infantile love, as their protagonists have found the means to draw out, to ritualize their reunions with the sacred, thus tainting their verses with adult love-hate through and through. Inside their apartment on the outskirts of Bologna, Orgy’s petit-bourgeois Man and Woman reminisce every night on their popular-class childhoods and past loves: he grew up in a province town, and had a love for his mother and a sadistically-colored one for another boy; she was born in the countryside, and had a love for her mother and a masochistically-inflected one for her father. Like Fabulation’s dream, the couple’s memories provoke them to revive their old loves, this time via the other’s flesh. Though they strive to recreate their pasts’ Eros-oriented «language of the body», they ultimately engender a Thanatos-dictated one, an extremely violent and destructive sadomasochism[18]. For instance, to reexperience this past corporeality, the Woman allows her husband to bring home gangs of young men to rape her, stating the following:

[M]i parlano con la lingua della loro carne.
Dalla forma… dal modo… dal tempo… dall’intensità con cui, entrati dentro di me,
hanno la loro lunga e breve confessione;
[…]
dai colpi regolari che, con le reni,
mi danno, oppure dalle loro spinte scomposte; dall’insinuante e dall’esasperante ostinazione con cui si contorcono; oppure dall’unica, lunga pressione […]
[…]
Da esse comprendo, senza bisogno di parole,
le anime, i caratteri di quei miei amori di pochi minuti[19].

[T]hey speak to me with the language of their flesh.
By its form… by its manner… by its tempo…
by the intensity with which, having entered inside of me,
they have their long and brief confessions;
[…]
by their regular beats that, with their kidneys, they give me, or by their uneven pushes;
by the insinuating and exasperating persistence
with which they twist themselves; or by the one, long thrust […]
[…]
From these I understand, without needing words,
the spirits, the personalities of those loves of mine of a few minutes.

Like all of the couple’s ambivalent accounts of their orgiastic pleasure, the Woman’s description expresses her masochistic childhood desire to feel the diversity of the movements of the male body in intercourse – its “regular beats”, “uneven pushes,” “twist” and “thrust” – but that desire is exacerbated by an adult voraciousness that leads to her self-objectification and -destruction.

She abruptly stops her heartrending monologue and admits that her amorous unions take place through rape, conceding to her husband that her «loves of a few minutes» will, in truth, understand neither her spirit nor her personality: «I do not exist for them./ I exist only for you: because you are my master»[20]. Products of the same Eros-Thanatos dialectic, civilization, subjectivity and sexuality are, to a great extent, reflections of one another, and so it becomes impossible for the couple to reproduce their more sustainable premodern sexualities within their imbalanced modern society and identities.

In Pigsty, Julian grew up in his family’s country villa in Godesberg, far from their factories in Bonn and Cologne. He fell in love with the world of the Italian peasants who work on their estate, especially with their pigs. Julian has maintained his sense of the sacred, but, unlike Fabulation’s Son, he is twenty-five years old and now responsible for his family’s industries. While his parents demand that he continue their dynasty, his friend Ida begs him to join the antibourgeois student protestors of the time. Recognizing both positions as repressive and ultimately affirmative of bourgeois society, Julian flees their appeals, increasingly recluding into the pigsty. Though the pigsty may have once been home to a sustainable childhood sexuality, it has now become the place where his more suppressed adult sexuality explodes into sadomasochistic orgies, as it has been continually sublimated and exacerbated. He describes his bestial rituals to Ida:

Tu sai, ottenuto l’orgasmo, sparso il seme, il mondo si presenta sotto un altro colore.
Ah, quanto seme io devo gettare! Quanta carne
in fondo al mio grembo deve provare lo spasimo nel lurido miracolo meccanico, che per gli altri ha un così circoscritto valore!
Dio non mi ha attaccato in fondo al ventre un piccolo piolo, lesto al suo dovere,
dal coito rapido come una sparatoria.
Ma un palo caldo, dolce, acido e mollemente rigido, che è schiavo della sua enormità:
e io sono suo schiavo.
Dopo l’amore, perciò, i diversi colori del mondo sono colori intollerabili – il cielo dello scoppio
di una bomba atomica […][21].

You know, having reached orgasm, spread my semen,
the world presents itself in another color.
Ah, how much semen I must toss out! How much flesh at the bottom of my lap must feel the spasm
in the lurid mechanical miracle, which for others
has such a circumscribed value!
God did not attach at the bottom of my belly a small peg, quick at its duty,
with a fast coitus like gunfire.
But a hot, sweet, sour and softly rigid pole, that is a slave to its enormity:
and I am its slave.
For this reason, after making love, the world’s various colors are intolerable colors – the sky of the explosion
of an atomic bomb […].

In ambivalent terms of love and hate, Julian relates his childhood desire to feel the sensations of his penis and orgasm, but that desire is increasingly overrun, like that of Orgy’s Woman, by an adult rapaciousness that leads to his self-objectification and -annihilation. His eros becomes obsessive: «Ah, how much semen I must toss out!». And his thanatos becomes extremely violent to reach quiescence: «I am its slave». He calls his penis both “sweet” and “sour”, “soft” and “rigid”. Orgasm is simultaneously “miraculous” and “mechanical”. The language of the body that he recreates is an increasingly death-oriented one, in which lovemaking paradoxically promises the vision of nuclear holocaust.

These passages of Pasolini’s ambivalent love-hate poetry in his tragedies provide a revealing versification of his protagonists’ desecrated desires, irresolutely torn between experiencing and dominating the flesh. Though these works demonstrate bourgeois subjectivity’s potential to revolutionize itself by reuniting with the sacred, in the end this potential is lost, as each protagonist’s reunion finishes in his or her social and/or physical death. Pasolini ultimately points out the imperative for the bourgeois individual to reconstruct a bond with the sacred that can resist and progress beyond this destructiveness. To return to Welsch’s terms, this individual’s task becomes the achievement of transculturality: the creation of a hybrid subjectivity that carries the premodern into a genuinely reciprocal interaction with the modern, stimulating the potential for the radical diversification of petit-bourgeois homogenization.

References:

  • S. Benini, Pasolini: The Sacred Flesh, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 2015;
  • S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla letteratura e sull’arte: Tomo secondo, Milan, Mondadori, 1999;
  • Eid. (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro, Milan, Mondadori, 2001;
  • Eid. (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla politica e sulla società, Milan, Mondadori, 2012;
  • S. Freud, Totem and Taboo, New York, W. W. Norton & Company, 1989;
  • Id., Three Essays on Sexual Theory, in The Psychology of Love, New York, Penguin, 2007, pp. 111-220;
  • Id., Civilization and Its Discontents, New York, W. W. Norton & Company, 2010;
  • H. Marcuse, Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud, London, Routledge, 2006;
  • P. P. Pasolini, Freud conosce le astuzie del grande narratore, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla letteratura e sull’arte: Tomo secondo cit., pp. 2404-2408;
  • Id., Affabulazione, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 467-573;
  • Id., Note e notizie sui testi, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 1111-230;
  • Id., Orgia, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 243-312;
  • Id., Porcile, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 575-658;
  • Id., Prologo [dal programma di sala], in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 318-21;
  • Id., Anche Marcuse adulatore?, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla politica e sulla società cit., pp. 156-58;
  • Id., Il sogno del centauro: Incontri con Jean Duflot [1970-1975], in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla politica e sulla società cit., pp. 1401-550;
  • Id., Se nasci in un piccolo paese sei fregato, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla politica e sulla società cit., pp. 1612-22;
  • W. Siti, F. Zabagli (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Per il cinema: Tomo primo, Milan, Mondadori, 2001;
  • W. Welsch, Transculturality: The Puzzling Form of Cultures Today, in M. Featherstone, S. Lash (Eds.), Spaces of Culture: City, Nation, World, London, Sage, 1999, pp. 194-213.

  1. The original draft of this article was presented on April 13, 2018 at the Northeast Modern Language Association Annual Convention in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania for the panel Il teatro e il cinema di Pier Paolo Pasolini: Interpretazioni e analisi. This article stems from ongoing research for a book project on Pasolini’s tragic plays. For bibliographical information on these plays, see P. P. Pasolini, Note e notizie sui testi, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro, Milan, Mondadori, 2001, pp. 1111-230: 1147-1212. ↑

  2. P. P. Pasolini, Se nasci in un piccolo paese sei fregato, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla politica e sulla società, Milan, Mondadori, 2012, pp. 1612-22: 1622. Quotations of Italian texts are given in translation only, except block quotes of the plays, where the original precedes the translation. Translations of Italian texts are my own. Emphasis in quotations is original. ↑

  3. See W. Welsch, Transculturality: The Puzzling Form of Cultures Today, in M. Featherstone, S. Lash (Eds.) Spaces of Culture: City, Nation, World, London, Sage, 1999, pp. 194-213: 197-205. ↑

  4. P. P. Pasolini, Il sogno del centauro: Incontri con Jean Duflot [1970-1975], in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla politica e sulla società cit., pp. 1401-550: 1483-84, 1506. ↑

  5. Ivi, p. 1473. ↑

  6. S. Benini, Pasolini: The Sacred Flesh, Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 2015, p. 8. ↑

  7. See P. P. Pasolini, Affabulazione, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 467-573: 526; Id., Porcile, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 575-658; Id., Per il cinema: Tomo primo, Milan, Mondadori, 2001, p. 1167. For Freud’s influence on Pasolini, see, for example, P. P. Pasolini, Freud conosce le astuzie del grande narratore, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla letteratura e sull’arte: Tomo secondo, Milan, Mondadori, 1999, pp. 2404-2408. ↑

  8. See S. Freud, Three Essays on Sexual Theory, in The Psychology of Love, New York, Penguin, 2007, pp. 111-220: 167-68; Id., Totem and Taboo, New York, W. W. Norton & Company, 1989, pp. 37-38; Id., Civilization and Its Discontents, New York, W. W. Norton & Company, 2010, p. 107. ↑

  9. S. Freud, Totem and Taboo cit., p. 38. ↑

  10. See P. P. Pasolini, Prologo [dal programma di sala], in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 318-21: 319-20. For Marcuse’s impact on Pasolini, see, for example, P. P. Pasolini, Anche Marcuse adulatore?, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Saggi sulla politica e sulla società cit., pp. 156-58. ↑

  11. See H. Marcuse, Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud, London, Routledge, 2006, p. 83. ↑

  12. Ivi, p. 29. ↑

  13. Ivi, p. 202. ↑

  14. P. P. Pasolini, Porcile, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 575-658; W. Siti, F. Zabagli (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Per il cinema: Tomo primo, Milan, Mondadori, 2001, p. 1160. ↑

  15. P. P. Pasolini, Affabulazione, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 467-573: 507. ↑

  16. Ivi, p. 487. ↑

  17. Ivi, p. 545. ↑

  18. See P. P. Pasolini, Orgia, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 243-312: 268. ↑

  19. Ivi, pp. 266-67. ↑

  20. Ivi, p. 267. ↑

  21. P. P. Pasolini, Porcile, in S. De Laude, W. Siti (Eds.) P. P. Pasolini, Teatro cit., pp. 575-658: 626. ↑

(fasc. 44, 25 maggio 2022, vol. I)