Pinocchio

“They love me! They accept me!” - exclaims Benício del Toro's Pinocchio on Netflix.

Pinocchio repeatedly moves away from his father, Geppetto, until his happy ever after ending.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés briefly talks about Pinocchio in a rare article. Pinocchio represents man's search for love with his tools, but she explains it better.

But Benício del Toro's Pinocchio on Netflix comes packed with those emotional cues that screenwriters, filmmakers, and artists apparently master.

Pinocchio seeks acceptance on stage - “they accept me” - shortly after Geppetto still compares Pinocchio to Carlo, his flesh-and-blood son lost to the war.

“I will be like Carlo!” - exclaims Pinocchio bravely, excitedly, when he sees this chance to receive love from his father.

But if to be loved one needs to be someone else - perhaps the best swimmer, the tireless student, more of that, or never enough of this - Pinocchio promptly gives in to the impresario who wants to give Pinocchio fame, by being his manager. Pinocchio can be loved for who he is.

But not at home, by his father. And/or by his mother. Or an aunt. Someone close.

No: the circus! Hollywood! Olympics! Views.

Resemblance to reality is the goal of cinema.

To help the seemingly fair relationship between the impresario, who takes the risk, and the managed artist, who wants to be accepted (for what he “is”: a puppet?), the impresario still offers endless popcorn, hot chocolate, ice cream.

The same hot chocolate that the impresario and circus offer in infinite quantities to Pinocchio is the cup of hot chocolate that Geppetto DOES NOT offer to Pinocchio in one of his first demonstrations of inability to love his son.

It's no coincidence that hot chocolate appears here and there. As I just wrote in The Best Coffee, "hot chocolate" is NOT a warm sweetened liquid going down the throat. Nothing of the sort. It's pure love.

When Pinocchio is in the circus, he can no longer stand popcorn, ice cream, or hot chocolate. He can no longer stand “the warm sweet creamy liquid”, because it wasn't popcorn, ice cream, and hot chocolate that he really wanted, it was pure love.

And the curtain opens, and he receives applause.

And now? Now he is accepted for what he is - an artist? -, so is he loved?

The impresario, before opening the curtains, gives another emotional hint: “those idiots watching”.

And now? Did Hollywood (or rather, Netflix) get it right or wrong?

These screenwriters are phenomenal. Do they act on intuition or are they super-psychologists? Or is this part of the ancient story that is also based on our rich culture of ancient stories, as Clarissa Pinkola Estés teaches us?

Whatever the sources of wisdom, is the audience “idiotic”?

We know that Pinocchio does not receive the love he wants until he receives it from Geppetto his father, after long errors followed by improvements.

The audience's love was not enough for Pinocchio.

Why?

Why should I end paragraphs with this why?

Because the fame of likes can bring Pinocchio's impresario within reach of each one of us.

Are we loved? By idiotic audiences? Or by our father? (Since I'm talking about Pinocchio, I'm skipping the mother, but Love applies in any case).

Let's return, then, to find out if audiences are idiotic and if their love is low or non-existent.

Here comes the important question of those tiny football players who are pushed into fame - playing on TV screens - with less and less fun and more “will I be cut?” by a coach/manager who is also demanded for victories and good choices. Initially, fun is offered. “Hot chocolate”. Playing without big demands. Until - for some very early, for others shortly after - you become a machine that cannot make mistakes. Go to an Under-20 or Under-17 game and you will see the fun practically gone or disappeared from the field. They are flesh-and-blood robots observed by a coach worried about his job. Are audiences idiotic? That's the question Pinocchio answers “yes!”.

The low-income family that “needs,” “needs,” “needs” their little child to become a millionaire can now be replaced by the high-income family whose child “needs,” “needs,” “needs” to maintain the father's level, performance, and tireless dedication. (Since it's about Pinocchio, I'm focusing on the father). Here we go again: initially (a bit of) fun, followed by many, many, many studies and, finally, being the CEO of CEOs. An athlete! A puppet? In search of love? Love from idiotic audiences?

Does Hollywood/Netflix hit the nail on the head or are they crazy guessers?