Zerocalcare: "My limit is not to do anything with fascists or with those who want to imprison my friends."

BarcelonaThe queue of readers wanting to get the signature of Italian cartoonist Michele Rech (Arezzo, 1983) at the Universal bookstore on Sant Jordi was 150 meters long. Perhaps part of this can be attributed to the Italian colony in Barcelona, ​​​​but we can no longer speak of it as a whole. Zerocalcare -his stage name- as an Italian phenomenon, if not a global one. And this is largely due to the success of the animated series he's created for Netflix: Strappare lungo and edge[Cut along the dotted line] and This world is not my rendering cattivo [This world won't make me a bad person.] However, the excuse for the visit to Barcelona was his new comic: When you die it will be for me (Polen Edicions / Reservoir Books), which explores the difficulties of the father-son relationship during a trip with his father to the family home in the Dolomites. This is one of the most personal works by an author who effortlessly intertwines political commitment—he's a leading figure in social movements in Italy—and conflicts of a personal nature.

His work often addresses male communication problems, but in this comic, he focuses on the relationship between fathers and sons. Why is it so difficult to communicate emotions between fathers and sons?

— Our generation and previous generations have grown up with the idea that showing emotions makes us vulnerable. And this is unacceptable for a man in Italian culture, and I think in yours as well. The masculine model we had was that of a person capable of solving external problems, but internal problems are never discussed because they belong to the feminine sphere. And it's a model that even progressive people who disagree with it have internalized.

It also explores the family's transmission of these values. In fact, in the comic, his father boasts of having broken the chain of emotional repression his children endure, yet the lack of communication remains intact.

— I don't know if breaking this model is a change that can be achieved in a single generation. My father has made part of the journey, but I still have a lot of trouble talking to him. I have tried to change the way I communicate with the rest of my family. It's very difficult to dismantle such an old and ancestral construct. We think the new generations are better, and that's partly true, but only for certain segments of society. In the majority of my country, in the outskirts and provinces, young people still have a lot of difficulty expressing their emotions.

And talk about all these topics in When you die it will be for me Has anything changed in your relationship with your father?

— [Bursting into laughter] No. My father has read the comic, but he didn't say anything to me. He did talk to my mother, from whom he's been divorced for 35 years, but he said he didn't understand anything. And after reading it a couple more times, he said he really liked it. But only my mother, right? He's never spoken to me, and I won't ask him; I'd be embarrassed.

Exploring all these themes leads you to reflect in the work on not having had children. Has your position changed after writing the comic?

— No, because I don't make comics to change my future; they're just a snapshot of my present. But I have to say that since the comic came out in Italy a year ago, some things have changed: I'm trying to prioritize work less, and I've also adopted a dog, which for me is almost like having a child. I'm taking it slow. At 70, I might be [laughs].

By the way, how do you get your parents to portray you as birds?

— At first they weren't very happy, but they are very similar to the characters, so they ended up accepting. My mother has a very strong, determined and protective character, like a hen, and my father is very similar to the father of Kung Fu Panda, a slightly clumsy goose.

When you hear the dialect of your father's village, you're reminded of the criticism you yourself received for your Roman accent on Netflix series.

— I think the problem with understanding is related to the fact that I speak very quickly in the series, but not in Romansh. In Italy, Romansh is understood by everyone; it's not even a dialect. The controversies my way of speaking sparked were instrumental. I always say that if you can do your shopping alone, you'll also understand the series.

During a trip to the Dolomites with his father, he discovered that figurines of his characters were even sold at gas stations. How does an anti-capitalist like you cope with the brutal commodification of your work?

— Mal [laughs]. To manage all of this, I decided I would never let the commercial aspect alter what I created. As long as I can have a radical discourse in comics or Netflix series, what the market does afterward doesn't matter to me. Also, I donate all the profits from the figurines and also from some Netflix products to social causes. What I would never do is self-censor myself to access this entire market. That said, I'm starting to have my doubts about whether it's all worth it.

I don't know if you know the case of Bill Watterson, the creator of Calvin & Hobbes, who demanded that no derivative product be made from his work, despite losing millions.

— Yes, but he has an almost sacred vision of art, while I am a nerd who buys figurines of the things I like.

What led you to want to tell your stories in the form of animated series? You were the best-selling author in Italy, so money wasn't a necessity.

— No, it was basically to force people to listen to the music I wanted in every scene. That's the real reason. It was only later that I realized that the audiovisual audience is much larger than that of comics, and that I can reach a lot more people this way. But the way of working is very similar. With Netflix, I did the same thing as with the comics: start with an intimate, personal story that everyone can relate to, and once people get into the characters, talk about more controversial topics, like racism in working-class neighborhoods.

For someone committed to self-management, social struggles, and anti-capitalism, didn't working with Netflix create a contradiction?

— Everything creates a contradiction in my life. Starting with the fact that I'm interviewed in a newspaper where two pages before, someone calls for sending some of my friends to jail, or the way much of the press has covered the Gaza issue in recent months. But if you want to do this work, you have to decide what your limits are, and mine are to do nothing with fascists or with those who want to imprison my friends, and also to not hold campaign rallies.

There's a moment in the comic where your father asks you to buy him a boat "with all that Netflix money," and you reply that your money "is only for doctors or lawyers." Hasn't financial success changed your life?

— The money has allowed us to fix some family situations that were somewhat complicated, but we still live in the same neighborhood. I bought an apartment in Rebibbia [north of Rome], but our lives are very similar: I drive the same car, wear the same clothes, and I don't travel as a tourist.

However, I imagine it won't be easy to manage spending your whole life fighting for a collective solution for progress and, in the meantime, achieving tremendous economic success individually through art.

— All of this is a great source of contradictions for me. I try to make my more political comics, like the ones I do about Kurdistan or a social cause, are the product of collective work, so that we can all think together about what we want to explain. And the benefits go to the social cause, of course. I also try to ensure that they can be reproduced in a pirate So that social movements can sell them themselves and raise funds. But from a more personal and existential perspective, I still don't know how to resolve the contradiction I feel when I'm with my 40-year-old friends who have no money and very precarious jobs.

You're from Rome. What was your opinion of Pope Francis?

— [Shrugs] He's a pope. I recognize that he's done some positive things, even some little-known ones, like allowing the homeless to sleep under the arcades of St. Peter's. Other popes never allowed that.

Two years ago he shared a talk in Barcelona with Fermin Muguruza, with whom he surely shares more things.

— Yes, I'd known his music since I was 14. I grew up with Kortatu and Negu Gorriak; he's one of my greatest influences. And his friends in Rome are my friends. So when they asked me to do something with him, it was like asking a young director to collaborate with Stanley Kubrick.

Imagine telling the story of how a boy from Rebibbia fell in love with Lords of the Universe ends up becoming the most popular Italian author of his generation. What would be the first scene of this story?

— I was three years old, with my cousin Francesca, who babysat me. After our first afternoon together, I told my mother: "Look, Francesca is very nice, but I have to draw, and I can't spend the afternoon entertaining her."

What is your best memory related to drawing?

— One day, while I was signing copies in my neighborhood, a guy I'd never thought was interested in comics showed up in line—one of the neighborhood's most notorious guys, whom I'd never spoken to before. Having him ask me for a drawing was incredible, and for me, it's better than any financial, social, or literary recognition.

And one that you would like to forget?

— Every festival I attend is riddled with controversy. And I, personally, feel like I'm required to maintain a level of purity and integrity that no one else is. It's something I've been finding difficult lately.