ma tu immagina essere john travolta e ti chiamano per andare in italia a fare presenza in questo festival della musica che si suppone essere una roba seria e arrivi e ti vogliono far mettere un cappello da papero e farti fare da terzo incomodo durante i rituali psicosessuali dei conduttori. tu ti invazzi perché giustamente sei john travolta e te la senti tanto. e il giorno dopo thee gladiatore ti dissa durante lo stesso programma dopo che è entrato sul palco minchia first e lo stesso presentstore che ora ti odia gli fa gli occhi dolci. e tu sei john travolta.
I'm doing a summary for a friend anyway so, here it is:
THE John Travolta vs Amadeus vs Russell Crowe GATE
The whole thing starts a while back, when Amadeus (the lying liar who lied) had said he wouldn't have guests because Rai is broke and then announcing John Travolta and Russell Crowe as super guests.
They both asked to be involved themselves, they weren't contacted by Rai and they will get very little money for their trouble (Travolta got a costs refund, Crowe not even that and came basically for free).
Their reasons for joining the party (aside from a momentarily lack in judgment I guess): Travolta was doing something in France anyway, so it's close by and he saw that Fiorello was there and he remembers Fiorello from a while back, when he was a guest in one of his shows and apparently finds (found) him hilarious.
Russell Crowe is the Gladiator. He's just here for the vibes (and to promote his tour), he's getting here straight from Australia.
Travolta gets in Italy; he's super itchy with fans and the press. Doesn't even have the decency of being at TG1 (does he know that's also Amadeus realm? probably not).
He signs a fucking contract, he knows what he'll be subjected to, he decides to be a menace anyway. He gets on Ariston stage and does a little of his iconic dance moves. Disaster is looming. He and Amadeus get outside where Fiorello is waiting for them with duck hats, that Travolta refuses to wear (who do you think you are? you think yourself better than Fiorello and Amadeus, the italian royal couple?????).
They do this. Fiorello and Ama are vibing. Travolta is seeing his entire life and career end there. He does the whole thing with death in his eyes. And it's a fucking disaster. So much so that the next day it's all Italy can talk about (despite great things happening on that night). Apparently no one covered Travolta's shoes logo and it's a big problem for Rai. Amadeus snapped at journalists. Travolta cannot get a foot in Italy anymore because IT'S ON SIGHT.
And here he comes, Russell Crowe as an avenging Gladiator in all his glory. He's truly here for the vibes and the vibes only. He's doing more interviews than the Sanremo Contestants. He's at TG1 despite not understanding a single word, as if he's one of Amadeus infinite list of co-hosts. He's answering over and over and over again "what is your favorite italian song?", he's singing Ricchi e Poveri like the entire Country did when that devil, Amadeus, reunited them a couple of years ago.
He gets on Ariston stage, he sings, he recites his infamous line from The Gladiator, in italian (!), he says "Teresa, Teresa, TERESA", just because the co-host likes how he says her name.
Then the dissing happens. Teresa Mannino is telling how they found out Russell Crowe like many other celebrities has italian roots, despite not having an italian surname "like, Di Caprio or Coppola or De Niro".
Russell Crowe isn't here to play and he goes "or Travolta." Mocks him with the duck dance moves and mouths "wtf, wtf".
Amadeus is cackling in the background, he has a new bestie. Italy as a whole has a new bestie, because the pettiness of it all was the most italian thing ever.