In a sense, this project initiated for me in January 2009, when I received a request from Jayne Fargnoli, executive editor at Wiley‐Blackwell, to referee a proposal by Peter Brunette for a Wiley‐Blackwell Companion to Italian Cinema. The request precipitated a pleasant exchange of emails with Jayne. Peter, being Peter, had written a stunning proposal, and I responded to it enthusiastically. However, I referred to the volume as a Cambridge, rather than Wiley‐Blackwell, Companion, an error I repeated even when I first took the project on myself: the first of my many challenges to Jayne’s boundless patience and good humor.
Then came the shock of Peter’s death on June 16, 2010. He was in Sicily, and I was in Lucca (Tuscany), which echoed the distance/closeness dynamic of our relationship noted below. Once some of the shock wore off—a good part of it never will—I remembered his proposal and my enjoyable correspondence with Jayne. I contacted her and asked if there was anything I could do to help keep the project alive. Bringing the Companion to fruition seemed an appropriate way to honor the companion whom I and so many others had just lost. Jayne and I both had quite similar responses to Peter’s death and a similar desire to make the volume happen, so I ended up taking on the editorial responsibility.
Peter had made numerous initial contacts, and the participation of many of the contributors is his doing. Over time, there were sufficient changes in the composition of the volume that its organization and foci became my doing. For this reason, it has made sense to designate it the work of a single editor, rather than a coedited project. But it is, to me, very much a shared enterprise, infused with Peter’s spirit. Most important, without his initiative it would not have come to be. And, of course, the time‐honored disclaimer in these instances applies: the virtues of the volume lie with him, its failings with me.
Peter was a great friend whom I encountered in mid career and hardly ever saw. Paradoxical. We first met at an American Association for Italian Studies conference in Utah in the late 1980s or early 1990s. In conjunction with the publication and presentation of his book on Roberto Rossellini, Peter brought to the event Ingrid Rossellini, daughter of Roberto Rossellini and Ingrid Bergman, twin sister of Isabella Rossellini, and an Italian scholar in her own right. A small group, including Peter and Ingrid, convened in my hotel room till late at night. The memory is so vivid that I relive it, as I write, with startling concreteness. I remember Peter making a very kind comment in response to my presentation on Fellini, despite the fact that he considered il maestro “a wanker.” His generosity of spirit and choice of words stayed with me.
The next time we met, he and I sat next to each other as we were being bussed from one conference venue to another, and our relatively brief conversation formed a bond that endured till his passing. We found ourselves talking about deeply personal matters in a context of complete trust.
We didn't see each other again or even communicate until 2003, when we both attended the Felliniana conference at the University of Washington. As we dined together one evening, it became clear there that our bonding had much to do with similar backgrounds. We were both of US urban east‐coast origin and both the product of Catholic upbringing and education. We also shared an interest in sports as well as European cinema.
In 2006, Peter brought me on board to do the commentary with him for the Criterion release of Fellini’s Amarcord. The commentary confirmed our seamless compatibility; we spent many enjoyable hours in New York City, and we talked of writing a book together on 1960s Italian film. I was happy when Peter mentioned that our work on the commentary tempted him to rethink his opinion of Fellini.
After that, it was occasional emailing, because he was so often on the move at film festivals and similar events, and I was in Canada. But by then, losing touch with Peter seemed like a foreign concept: we didn’t need incidental communication to sustain our camaraderie.
Little did I know that a radical losing of touch was on the horizon. Fortunately, Peter left behind a legacy of wonderful work to keep him perennially present. And this Companion has been a vital means for me to maintain a strong sense of connection and continuity. Still, his loss will always be as deeply felt as his friendship.
I would be remiss to focus solely on my fondness for Peter and fail to mention his importance as a scholar. He was a major figure in Italian and international film studies. He was eclectic, cosmopolitan, dedicated, and tireless. His work was scrupulously researched and informed by the latest theoretical methods and approaches. He did a great service to film studies by bringing Derridean deconstruction to an otherwise resistant discipline. His work on Pasolini and Antonioni remains particularly important to me, but he also ranged far afield of Italian studies with his important publications on François Truffaut, Michael Haneke, and Wong Kar‐wai, among others.
It was always amazing to me that Peter managed to write as many books as he did, when he spent so much time on the road serving as a festival reporter and contributor for outlets such as The Hollywood Reporter and Indiewire. However, his travels insured that his writing was the product of his experience, not just of isolated research and contemplation. The richness of his life was reflected in the richness of his work.
Peter’s immense sociability is reflected in this Companion, which brings together so many of his friends and colleagues to celebrate Italian cinema and, implicitly, Peter’s role in its academic appreciation and diffusion.