The Independent (London)
June 26, 2004, Saturday
THE CITY OF DISCIPLES;
TOURISTS ARE FLOCKING TO THE ITALIAN CITY WHERE MEL GIBSON FILMED
HIS
by JAMES FERGUSON House of God (main): the streets of Matera; (left)
Jim Caviezel as Jesus in The Passion of the Christ’
As caves go it was certainly comfortable, with firm beds, a
television, air conditioning and even a minibar. It was also stylish
in a stripped- down sort of way. Discreet lighting and subtle tiles
in the bathroom were complemented by quirky details like a squatting
gargoyle carved out of the rock opposite the loo. The small terrace
was decorated with a mosaic- topped table and fashionable seating. It
exuded taste. But I didn’t realise how trendy it was until Signore
Cristallo, its owner, produced a copy of Hip Hotels, confirming its
chic credentials.
The Sassi Hotel (sassi means “stones”) is, quite literally, a
collection of caves gouged out of the sandstone cliffs in the
southern Italian city of Matera. The 20-odd rooms are arranged on
various levels, joined by steps, and while from a distance the hotel
may look like a normal building, its facade is precisely that – a
front made out of stone blocks dug from the caves. The technology
might be Stone Age, but it works. The caves are cool in the fierce
Basilicata summer and retain warmth in the winter.
Like some troglodyte metropolis, Matera is largely comprised of holes
carved out of the hillsides that drop steeply down from the city’s
central plateau. Up on this spur, known as the Civita, is a more
familiar sort of Italian city, a cluster of narrow streets, palazzos
and elegant squares that eventually merge into modern, nondescript
suburbs. But tumbling down two ravines are the sassi, the tiers of
cave dwellings. Looking across the ravine, you see a vertical
panorama of doors and windows, with flights of steps winding up
between the buildings. As you climb these steps you walk across the
roofs of the caves below.
The hillsides present a bizarre geometry of arches, columns and
chimneys as well as the occasional satellite dish. Some dwellings are
more ornate than others, with balconies and towers, while the most
humble are little more than a door in the cliff face. Rather like a
Swiss cheese, the soft tufa stone is pitted with holes of different
sizes. Sometimes the effect is eerie, like a legion of staring eyes.
At other times, especially at dusk, the stone takes on a glorious
mellow tone.
The city is also exceptionally rich in churches: some conventional,
others – the so-called chiesi rupestri – dug into the rock. Some date
back to between the 8th and 12th centuries when monks from Armenia,
the Middle East and Asia Minor settled here, escaping persecution and
building monastic communities in the harsh terrain.
This extraordinary urban landscape is beginning to attract visitors
to Matera, and the tourist authorities are waking up to the fact that
the city is not only architecturally unique but stunningly beautiful.
And Matera has another claim to fame, for it was here that Mel Gibson
chose to film The Passion of the Christ, his notoriously intense
reconstruction of the crucifixion. Standing on the steep stone path
where Gibson shot Christ’s agonising climb carrying the cross, you
can make out a rocky and desolate outcrop across the valley where the
crucifixion itself was recreated.
Not that this was the first blockbuster to be made in Matera. Around
25 films have been filmed here since the 1950s, many seeking to
replicate what a biblical scene two millennia ago might have looked
like. But Gibson’s painful epic was probably the best, at least in
terms of local employment. “At least 500 locals got jobs as extras,
although 5,000 applied,” says our enthusiastic guide, Mariarosaria
Lamacchia, an art history graduate who returned home to work in
Matera’s fledgling tourist industry. “You could tell who was working
on the film as they started walking round town showing off their long
beards.”
You can’t begrudge Matera’s people their long-overdue change in
fortune. From medieval times, the gulf between the wealthy feudal few
who lived at the top of the town and the majority in the sassi was
huge and insurmountable. Looking down on their poor neighbours in
every sense, the elite of landowners and professionals built
beautiful civic buildings and ornate churches, many later re-styled
to suit Baroque tastes. The cave-dwellers, meanwhile, lived in abject
poverty. Most of them were farm labourers, working for a pittance for
the landowners. Tuberculosis and malaria were rife.
Little changed until well into the 20th century. New caves were still
being excavated until the 1950s, as a growing population looked for
affordable housing. Raffaele Cristallo, who was born into a family
that lived on the plateau, recalls that women used to dump their
families’ sewage into the bottom of the ravines. “But they managed to
do it with great dignity,” he says, “hiding the buckets under their
shawls.” If there was a strong sense of communal solidarity, there
was also terrible poverty and squalor. Horses and donkeys shared the
unventilated caves with entire families. Mariarosaria showed us one
cave, now housing a potter’s workshop, in which 40 people slept.
The tragic predicament of Matera’s cave dwellers was illuminated in
Carlo Levi’s account of his political exile in Basilicata in the
1930s. In his memoir Christ Stopped at Eboli, Levi’s sister passes
through Matera and likens the sassi to Dante’s Inferno, in which
people inhabit a netherworld of disease and deprivation. “Never
before have I witnessed such a spectacle of misery,” she says,
remarking that the children begged for quinine rather than money.
“Something had to give after the war,” says Signore Cristallo,
recalling that the region had elected an energetic member of
parliament who invited the former Prime Minister De Gasperi to view
the sassi in 1950. “When De Gasperi came, he saw all those tiny beds
piled up side by side in a cave and the most tragic expression came
over his face.” Soon people began to speak of la vergogna, the
national shame of Matera. True to his word, De Gasperi enacted
legislation in 1952, ordering the forcible evacuation of the sassi
and the relocation of some 15,000 people into new, purpose- built
accommodation on the plateau. The most desperate were moved first,
and within eight years almost all had swapped their caves for an
apartment in the new city. The state took over the site. There was no
choice, but, says Signore Cristallo, everybody wanted to leave. I
asked whether some might have missed their old homes. “Perhaps they
missed the solidarity of their old neighbourhood, but they had gained
a proper home, a bathroom, a new beginning.” The caves were abandoned
and bricked up. For years the sassi were a wilderness, inhabited only
by wild dogs. The identity of the city changed as people abandoned
agriculture for the construction industry. A generation was born
knowing nothing of cave life.
That might have been the end of the story. But gradually attitudes
changed, as academics re-evaluated the importance of the site. What
had hitherto been seen as a slum began to be viewed as a culturally
distinctive human habitat. A gradual, and informal, repopulation of
the sassi took place in the 1970s, as enterprising characters like
Signore Cristallo bought some of the few caves that had remained in
private hands. Then, in 1986, new legislation paved the way for a
proper renaissance, when the Italian government announced it would
support businesses and individuals wanting to resettle in the
neighbourhood. The shame of Matera finally became its pride when
UNESCO designated the sassi a World Heritage Site in 1993.
Now, groups of visitors trudge up and down the pathways of the cave
district, and a cluster of restaurants and B&Bs have opened up. The
hammering and drilling of restoration work echoes sporadically around
the ravines. There are strict UNESCO-inspired guidelines as to what
can be done. Signore Cristallo, who has witnessed the death and
rebirth of this spectacular place, welcomes all this activity and is
proud of his regular guests, who include diplomats and artists.
He is also proud that his son has married a Brazilian girl whose
father was attending a conference in Matera. It is a small symbol of
the city’s revival. Has he seen The Passion of the Christ? “I may go
one day,” he says, “just out of curiosity.” Meanwhile, in the nearby
Trattoria Lucana, they’re advertising fettuccine alla Mel Gibson,
delighted that the director would drop in after work.
TRAVELLER’S GUIDE
GETTING THERE
The nearest international gateway to Matera is Bari, 40 miles away.
Ryanair (0871 246 0000; ) flies there daily from
Stansted from pounds 46 return. British Airways (0870 850 9 850;
) flies to Bari from Gatwick from pounds 78.70. Those not
inclined to drive from Bari to Matera can take a train there: the
Ferrovie Appulo-Lucane line ( – in Italian only) runs
from Stazione FAL to Matera Centrale. There are several departures
daily except Sunday.
STAYING THERE
I Sassi (00 39 0835 331 009; ) is surprisingly
reasonable given that this is probably Matera’s finest hotel: doubles
start at EUR84 (pounds 60), room only. Casa D’Imperio (00 39 0835 330
503; ), a refurbished 16th-century farmhouse
nearby, makes a cheerful alternative. Doubles start at EUR64 (pounds
45.70), breakfast included.
FURTHER INFORMATION
Contact the Matera Turismo, a local cooperative promoting the region
(00 39 0835 336 572; ), or the Italian State
Tourist Board (020-7408 1254; ).