https://www.serialfiller.org/post/
Questo è il link futuro del post che vi sto invitando a leggere nei prossimi giorni su www.serialfiller.org e che qui è in anteprima

Come di consueto oggi vi porto dentro una nuova Anteprima di un articolo che fra qualche giorno o settimana vedrete Nella Mente di un SerialFiller, il mio blog interamente incentrato sul mondo delle serie tv e di cui, da qualche mese, ho deciso di regalarvi costantemente, in anticipo su quello che pubblicherò, gran parte dei post che vedrete su www.serialfiller.org.

Per nostra fortuna il finale andato in onda esattamente un anno fa, è stato perfetto e non ha minimamente risentito di questo accorgimento temporale estremo.
Se qualcosa dal buon Dan ho imparato è che c'è sempre della bellezza nascosta nel passare nel tempo, una bellezza tremenda e beffarda ma che va assolutamente colta e per la quale dobbiamo prepararci.
E allora questo post che oggi leggete, è stato scritto esattamente un anno fa, in preda all'emozione turbinosa che il series finale mi aveva lasciato, lasciandomi con un mare di riflessioni che via via ho provato ad elaborare, anche attraverso i tanti post su This Is Us che in questo anno vi ho proposto.
Oggi voglio calare il ricordo di This Is Us all'interno di uno dei più importanti lasciti che la serie ci abbia testimoniato, ovvero la memoria ed il valore dei ricordi.

C'è stato un momento in cui ho realizzato che This Is Us avrebbe fatto di tutto per consegnarci un messaggio positivo ed estremamente potente nella sua banalità, ed è stato quando abbiamo scoperto che Rebecca si era ammalata e che gli sceneggiatori, fra tutte le malattie di questo mondo, avevano scelto proprio l'Alzheimer come estrema e tragica compagna degli ultimi anni di vita della moglie di Jack Pearson.

Ognuno ha vissuto il resto della propria esistenza chiedendosi cosa avrebbe fatto o detto Jack. Ciascuno dei Big Three ha sempre cercato, in maniera quasi spirituale, un'approvazione del proprio papà nei momenti cruciali della propria esistenza. Quando Randall, Kate e Kevin sono diventati partner, mariti, moglie, genitori, la loro ispirazione è stata Jack in primis. Il defunto padre era li con loro e con che cosa se non attraverso i ricordi.
La memoria andava a quei lazy saturday ed a mille altri momenti normali, normalissimi ma che per loro, specificamente sono diventati e sono sempre stati speciali. Quei momenti speciali hanno caratterizzato la loro infanzia e la loro adolescenza, condizionandone, in senso estremamente positivo, l'intera esistenza.
Senza i ricordi, i 3 orfani di padre come avrebbero potuto dare continuità a quell'amore paterno cosi grande ed incondizionato?
Rebecca, d'altro canto, è sempre rimasta con loro, per oltre mezzo secolo, rivestendo lo stesso ruolo rivestito da Jack ma senza la necessità di essere ricordata, essendo lei ancora viva.
Quei ricordi di Jack, e di quei momenti familiari cosi intimi e semplici, rischiano di svanire quando l'Alzheimer viene a farti visita.
Rebecca lo sa.
Randall, Kate e Kevin lo sanno.
E cosi gli ultimi anni di Rebecca sono stati una tortuosa, insidiosa ma tenerissima corsa all'interno dei labirinti della memoria.

Come sempre vi aspetto su www.serialfiller.org.
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Grazie dell'attenzione!

ENG

https://www.serialfiller.org/post/
This is the future link to the post that I am inviting you to read in the coming days at www.serialfiller.org and which is previewed here

As usual, today I am bringing you inside a new Preview of an article that in a few days or weeks you will see In the Mind of a SerialFiller, my blog entirely focused on the world of TV series and of which, for the past few months, I have decided to give you constantly, in advance of what I will publish, most of the posts you will see at www.serialfiller.org.
Did you know that Dan Fogelman shot most of the scenes related to the series finale more than 3 years before it aired?
We are talking about a maniacal attention to detail and an insane respect for story, characters, and not least the viewer.
The reason lay in the fact that the "little" actors who played Kate, Randall and Kevin, were growing up by the day, and since in the finale Fogelman had always intended to have some scenes of the happy Pearson family appear during a "lazy saturday" when the children were, indeed, still children, the creator decided to anticipate those shots by a good 3 years, save everything in an archive, and retrieve the material a few years later, hoping that it had not become obsolete with respect to the evolution of story, characters, and his own idea of the finale.
Fortunately for us, the finale that aired exactly one year ago was perfect and was not affected in the slightest by this extreme temporal expedient.
If I have learned anything from good Dan, it is that there is always hidden beauty in the passage of time, a tremendous and mocking beauty but one that absolutely must be grasped and for which we must prepare ourselves.
And so this post that you read today was written exactly a year ago, in the throes of the swirling emotion that the series finale had left me with, leaving me with a sea of reflections that I have gradually tried to process, including through the many posts on This Is Us that I have offered you over the past year.
Today I want to lower the memory of This Is Us within one of the most important legacies the series has witnessed to us, namely memory and the value of memories.

There was a moment when I realized that This Is Us would do everything in its power to deliver to us a positive message that is extremely powerful in its banality, and that was when we found out that Rebecca had fallen ill and that the scriptwriters, of all the diseases in this world, had chosen Alzheimer's as the extreme and tragic companion of the last years of Jack Pearson's wife's life.
I knew from the start that that choice would lead us down a pathway made up of memories that Rebecca and Jack had helped create, scattering them throughout their entire existence. For Randall, Kate, and Kevin, Rebecca and Jack were like spotlights embedded in a very long and very wide lawn, brightly lit when everything got dark and able, always and everywhere, to show their children the way.
When Jack went out, burned by the fire of his own burning house and suffocated by the smoke inhalation from which he was enveloped to save little Kate's little dog, his light did not leave with him. That beacon continued to light the path of his 3 children and his wife Rebecca.
How?
Through memories, in fact.
Each lived the rest of their existence wondering what Jack would do or say. Each of the Big Three always sought, in an almost spiritual way, an approval from their dad at crucial moments of their existence. When Randall, Kate and Kevin became partners, husbands, wives, parents, their inspiration was Jack first and foremost. The late father was there with them and with what but through memories.
The memory went to those lazy Saturdays and a thousand other normal, very normal moments but that for them, specifically became and were always special. Those special moments characterized their childhood and adolescence, conditioning, in an extremely positive sense, their entire existence.
Without the memories, how could the 3 fatherless people have given continuity to that paternal love so great and unconditional?
Rebecca, on the other hand, has always remained with them, for more than half a century, playing the same role played by Jack but without the need to be remembered, since she is still alive.
Those memories of Jack, and of such intimate and simple family moments, are in danger of fading when Alzheimer's comes to visit.
Rebecca knows this.
Randall, Kate, and Kevin know it.
And so Rebecca's last years have been a tortuous, treacherous but tender ride inside the labyrinths of memory.

It is certainly not a shocking or new message that This is Us has given us in its 6 years of existence. Death overcome by the memory of one's family and loved ones is something that has been eviscerated many times in the recent history of film, literature, and seriality.
No one, however, has done it better and with such consistency as This is Us has, instead, demonstrated its ability to do.
The ability to move within countless temporal planes, making intimate connections even between people who have never crossed paths (think Deja and William, unrelated by the same blood and never brushing up against each other along the way) has been a guiding star in the series' journey.
Over half a century to create a whole new generation of people united by blood and non-blood ties to each other.
It all started with Rebecca and Jack. Half a century later the Big Three have become mature and relevant, to themselves, to their families, and to the world at large.
Around them a network of affections never conformed and shaped by society but masterfully united by love, affection, and a determination to be there for each other.
Adopted children, missed wives, found wives, fathers by chance, fathers by choice, broken couples, improved couples, fished-out uncles, and so much more. The big family of This Is Us has been anything but conventional, anything but normal, but it is precisely through normalcy and small everyday gestures that it has been able to build a special, unique and inviolable castle.
Fortified year after year, decade after decade, generation after generation, by memories and the value of memory.