Between Invisibility and Hypervisibility: Race, Genre, and Politics in Summertime and Zero

Abstract

Italian media depictions of Black and brown bodies tend to be split into two opposing types. On the one hand, in images and stories about immigration, which are ubiquitous in the news and within national consciousness, these bodies have become hypervisible. On the other hand, these stories often neglect the quotidian realities that many children of immigrants face, particularly in terms of their lack of citizenship, which leaves the plight of second-generation Italians invisible. A similar pattern of invisibility is evident in Italian film and television, where Black protagonists have long been absent. At the time of their releases, the Netflix series Summertime and Zero offered intriguing possibilities for the representation of race, approaching the issues of hypervisibility and invisibility and exploring the tensions between these extremes through the protagonists and narratives at their heart. Through a comparative analysis of these two series informed by postcolonial, critical race, and film theories, I ask what it means that Summertime, a show that conforms to norms regarding race, genre, and politics, was renewed for three seasons, whereas Zero was canceled after only one season—despite its offering a more nuanced representation of being Black in Italy. I argue that the latter show was canceled precisely because it failed to calm social fears about race.

Keywords:

• Zero (Netflix series)
• Summertime, race, genre, superhero, teen media, Black Venus, multiculturalism

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Marie Orton, Corry Cropper, and Rex Nielson for their constructive feedback on early versions of this article. Sincere thanks also to the readers and to the editors of Italian Culture for their insightful comments.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 For further discussion of this incident, see Ardizzoni (2021).

2 This cast includes Giuseppe Dave Seke as Zero/Omar, Haroun Fall as Sharif, Dylan Magon as Momo, Daniela Scattolin as Sara, Madior Fall as Inno, and Virginia Diop as Awa.

3 See “ZERO presentata da Antonio Dikele | Netflix Italia.” (2019).

4 These include Ludovica Martino as Eva Brighi, Benedetta Gargari as Eleonora Sava, Greta Ragusa as Silvia Mirabella, and Martina Lelio as Federica Cacciotti.

5 One could argue that Sofia’s (Amanda Campana) desire for Summer in Summertime represents an exception to this tendency to centralize white queerness. I would respond, however, that that particular relationship is purposefully disallowed, even (and perhaps especially) in moments when Summer isn’t engaged in a heterosexual relationship.

6 Other recent series featuring LGBTQ + characters include the Amazon-produced Prisma (Bessegato, Urciuolo, and Calvani 2022–) and Netflix’s DI4RIES (Assenza and Ercolani 2022–2023), as well as the return of Spadino in Suburræterna (D’Emilio and Tonda 2023-). In terms of cinematic production, it is also worth noting Ferzan Özpetek’s most recent film, Nuovo Olimpo (2023), which debuted on Netflix.

7 Edogamhe’s father is Nigerian; Summer’s father’s country of origin is not revealed in the series.

8 As a counter example, the much darker-skinned Lupita Nyong’o’s “acceptable blackness,” as Rawiya Kameir (2014) points out, derives from her “particular social and cultural pedigree that allows her to fit into a mold of blackness that America finds acceptable,” such as attending an Ivy League school, speaking four languages, and coming from Kenya’s political class. Though her African heritage and short, natural hair resists traditional white standards of beauty and effectively distances her from acceptability, she can be recuperated through her social status.

9 For more on the idea of the hypervisuality of Black bodies, see Ahmed (2007) specifically 159.

10 For an analysis of how Italian teen film privileges heteronormativity, refer to Paul (2017).

11 In this sense, Summer, as a character, has much in common with those played by another mixed-race actor, Zeudi Araya Cristaldi, in Italian films of the 1970s, as elaborated by Giuliani (2019), specifically 162–165.

12 The equation of Italianness or italianità with whiteness is well-documented. See, for example, Viola and Verheul (2019); Wilcox (2021), specifically her chapter “Race, Nationality, and Citizenship: The Meanings of Italianità in Wartime” (151–178); Giuliani and Lombardi-Diop (2013); and Smythe (2019), among others.

13 For further discussion of the way that RAI marginalizes minorities, see Ardizzoni (2021). For a thorough analysis of mixed-race characters represented in Italian media production, see Greene (2012).

14 It is true that Sofia does share a relatively romantic moment with Irene (Giulia Salvarani) at the beach, though it quickly transforms into an instance of exhibitionism as the two go skinny-dipping. In this sense, the romantic tension between the two is relieved through play and the two move to the water, the beach unable to withstand their non-normative encounter and actions.

15 For a thorough history of the beach in Italian cinema, see Uva (2021).

16 For a more detailed analysis of white spaces, see Brunsma et al. (2020), Anderson (2015) and Anderson (2022), particularly his chapter “The White Space” (13–26).

17 For more on the beast in the boudoir, see Grant’s “Introduction” (1–12) and Greenberg’s chapter “King Kong: The Beast in the Boudoir—or, ‘You Can’t Marry That Girl, You’re a Gorilla!’” in Grant (1996). See also Coleman (2011), specifically 44.

18 Zero/Omar’s invisibility explicitly links him to the horror tradition through the figure of the Invisible Man as depicted in films such as the classic The Invisible Man (James Whale 1933), Hollow Man (Paul Verhoeven 2000), and The Invisible Man (Leigh Whannell 2020). Hollow Man is particularly relevant here, specifically the scene in which an invisible Sebastien, played by Kevin Bacon, sneaks into his sexy neighbor’s apartment while she is taking a shower. The threat of rape, or at least physical violence, is very real during the sequence and yet the victim isn’t even aware of it until Sebastien purposefully makes his presence known by moving a mirror.

19 I use the term “miscegenation” in this section to refer to the relationship between Zero/Omar, a Black man, and Anna, a white woman, because it has more negative connotations and is linked with specific discourses that villainize Blackness, and Black men in particular. In my estimation, the term “interracial relationship,” which I used to discuss the relationship between Summer, a Black woman, and Ale, a white man, in Summertime seems less problematic and can be interpreted in a more positive light. I am not suggesting that these gendered arrangements of racially mixed couples are inherently positive or negative; rather, in my use of these terms, I am attempting to show how they may have been perceived by a hypothetical viewer and to raise the possibility that one arrangement (Black female/white male) has traditionally and historically been more socially acceptable than the other (Black male/white female). I am fully cognizant that relationships between white male colonizers and native Black females during the period of Italian colonization were equally considered as instances of miscegenation yet were often seen as a “necessary evil” of the project, at least for a time. For additional discussion of the myth of the Black rapist, see Hall (1983), specifically 334.

20 It is not lost on me that all of the protagonists of these films are white males. For an analysis of masculinity in Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot and Il ragazzo invisibile, see Rushing (2020).

21 For example, the 2019 blockbuster Avengers: Endgame (The Russo Brothers) grossed nearly $2.8 billion worldwide, and about $34.2 million in Italy. This sum is a little less than half of that earned by Italy’s highest grossing film of all time, Gennaro Nunziante’s comedy Quo vado? (2016), which earned $76 million. Data on earnings is available on Box Office Mojo, https://www.boxofficemojo.com/title/tt4154796/?ref_=bo_se_r_.

22 “ha avuto meno appassionati di quanto ci aspettassimo, non ci sarà la seconda stagione.” All translations, unless otherwise noted, are my own.

23 For more on Maciste and the peplum genre, refer to Reich (2015) and Rushing (2016).

24 Although the series suggests that Zero/Omar’s power is somehow mystically connected to his mother, he only discovers his power when he is chased down and cornered by the gun-toting Sharif. In this sense, he gains his ability by happenstance. Since the series was canceled, the connection between Zero/Omar’s powers and his mother is never fully fleshed out.

25 “Spesso l’Italia all’estero è ancora vista un po’ come il paese del buon cibo e del sole, di aitanti uomini in canottiera. Sentiamo il dovere di allontanarci dagli stereotipi e di raccontare il paese nella sua ricchezza e varietà. Vogliamo mostrare un’Italia più ruvida, complessa, multiculturale e libera.”

26 Indeed, dramas like Luna Park (D’Agostini and Negri 2021) and Fedeltà (Molaioli and Cipani 2022), comedies such as Guida astrologica per cuori infranti (De Stoppani and Andreozzi 2021–2022) and Incastrati (Ficarra and Picone 2022–2023), and even the animated cartoon Strappare lungo i bordi (Michele “Zerocalcare” Rech 2021) feature predominantly white casts and characters—not to mention white, male directors (Bindu De Stoppani, one of just three female directors, is of Indian heritage and is the sole person of color in the group). Among planned projects, Tutto chiede salvezza (2022) is based on the book of the same name by Daniele Mencarelli, is directed by Francesco Bruni, and stars Federico Cesari (of SKAM Italia fame), all white men; La vita bugiarda degli adulti (2022), despite featuring strong female roles, likewise focalizes white characters and is directed by another white man, Edoardo De Angelis; Briganti (Le Fosse et al. 2024) is billed as an epic story of three female brigands in post-unification southern Italy (a setting and period easily characterized as white) and is written by the GRAMS collective, which is comprised of three white men (Antonio Le Fosse, Giacomo Mazzariol, Marco Raspanti), one white woman (Eleonora Trucchi), and a second generation Italo-Filipino man (Romolo Emmanuel “Re” Salvador); finally, La legge di Lidia Poët (2023), directed by Rovere and Lamartire, both of whom are white, is set in Torino at the end of the 1800s and stars Matilda De Angelis, another white actor.

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Daniel Paul

Daniel Paul is Assistant Professor of Italian at Brigham Young University and a member of the College of Humanities’ Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging Committee. His research and teaching interests include Gender Studies, Disabilities Studies, Trauma Theory, and Italian Cinema and Media Studies.