Now that Slavoj Zizek is a movie star and Malcolm Gladwell can fill rock star venues, it’s probably just a lazy short-hand to contend that Pier Paolo Pasolini‘s celebrity is all but inconceivable now. He’s remembered in English-speaking territories for his films–raw spins on Italian life, Christianity, and the sacred and blasphemous pillars of Western literature. In Italy, however, Pasolini was a one-man culture industry. He established himself as a poet, novelist, journalist, intellectual, documentary maker, radical irritant and all-around literary celebrity. PPP burned too brightly to last until his 80s, but if he had, today would have been his birthday.
