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‘A key instrument in mass culture, the ultimate but in the last analysis deeply useless authority’

PAUL GINSBORG on the slow-motion replay

Fan paranoia over the corrupt or inept nature of the refereeing in Italy is fuelled by interminable television debates where accusations fly back and forth. Episodes in games – penalties, fouls, goals – are replayed endlessly and conspiracy theories compete with different conspiracy theories. One particular programme – Il processo del lunedì (Monday’s Trial) – sums up this whole mindset. As its name suggests, the show is loosely modelled on a criminal trial. Numerous characters appear and assume various roles; an ex-referee defends all refereeing decisions, a Fiorentina fan (sometimes the fiery film and opera director Franco Zeffirelli) attacks Juventus; a Juventus manager defends his team. Another man stands up and begins to shout almost immediately, and doesn’t stop for two hours. Calls are made for the sacking of managers (teams are said to be officially ‘in crisis’ after just one or two defeats), or the disciplining of referees. Journalists fuel rumours of transfers, player unrest and indiscipline. Millions of Italians watch this type of programme every week – their lives filled with stories of intrigue, bile and hope – waiting for the next match. No detailed studies have been done, but at least half of every episode is devoted to refereeing.

This kind of trial by television has been a long time coming, and has been driven by technology. In Italy, the moviola refers explicitly to football, and to slow-motion replays of controversial decisions. Since the 1960s, when technology first allowed replays of moments from matches, the moviola has become a key component of debates over football. Discussion today concentrates more on moviola incidents than on the game itself, and various variations on the classic moviola have been introduced over time. Il processo del lunedì now uses what it calls the ‘super-moviola’ with lifesize computer images which recreate incidents from the week’s matches.

At first, the moviola was extremely primitive. Technicians at the RAI – the State TV service which ran a monopoly from 1954 to 1976 – invented a small camera which could film the match in slow-motion from a small TV screen. In 1967 the moviola was first used on the popular sports show, Sporting Sunday. It was an immediate hit. Sports journalists became moviola specialists – known as moviolisti. The pioneers were Heron Vitaletti and, above all, Carlo Sassi, who stayed in the job for over 30 years. The first moviola incident was a ‘ghost goal’ – a goal that was given but wasn’t actually valid – in a Milan derby, by Gianni Rivera. Sassi and Vitaletti proved that the ball had not crossed the line. In 1969, the moviola became a key part of sports programmes and slowly became the central aspect of all discussion, replacing questions of tactics, performances and skill. Later experts emerged from the new private TV networks in the 1970s and 1980s.

Everything, even beyond football, began to be seen in terms of the moviola. In the popular film comedy Romanzo Popolare (1974) Ugo Tognazzi reviews his past errors through use of a hypothetical moviola. Every so often, the film stops, and Tognazzi turns to the camera and says – ‘Moviola’. He then comments on where his life has gone wrong. The word moviola became part of both football language and language in general. An episodio da moviola is a controversial incident that is guaranteed to be analysed time and time again. Footballers, when interviewed, would often say ‘Vedremo stasera alla moviola’: ‘We’ll check that on the replay this evening’. Nowadays, they are asked to comment immediately on replays, as soon as they have showered. There is no more need to wait for the evening. During matches in Italy, a football commentator is assigned to the bench area, commentating in detail on the activities of the managers and substitutes. He will often pass on information concerning controversial incidents to the bench. Moviola replay judgements are thus ‘seen’ in real time, by those involved in games, whilst the game is still in progress.

Replays are generally seen as having the last word, as containing an absolute truth that could not be sorted out by the referee on the field. La moviola ci dirà se… ‘the moviola will let us know if…’. Televisual truth is everything. Real-time action, even for those who played in the game, is always in doubt. Only TV can tell us what has really happened. Replays have changed the spectator’s relationship with sport, forever, and the game is now ‘told’ to us by others. We need – we demand – a televisual version of something we have already seen, in order to understand it. In Italy, the moviola has taken on a particular power thanks to the enormous lack of confidence in the ability, or willingness, of referees to objectively officiate matches. In a society where bias is assumed, the moviola has become the only judge whose verdict is worthy of trust.²⁵

The beauty of football is that few incidents are uncontroversial. There is rarely a correct answer or one single version. Clarity is the exception, even with the moviola. Hence, the years and years of debate about the 1966 World Cup final, or the impossibility of deciding if Liverpool’s goal against Chelsea in the 2005 Champions League had crossed the line, or not. The moviola rarely puts an end to debate and usually provokes further discussion. Often, an incident will be replayed umpteen times, and various pundits in the studio will provide an entirely different interpretation of what they have just seen. The other beautiful but frustrating iron rule of calcio is that the referee’s word is final, on the pitch. We cannot go back in time and ‘allow’ a disallowed goal, or award a penalty that was not given. Nonetheless, the authority of referees has been progressively undermined by the replay culture. The mystery and aura surrounding officials began to decline with the first moviola punditry, and took a massive blow with the brave decision by Concetto Lo Bello to admit a mistake in 1972.²⁶ As guest of La Domenica Sportiva Lo Bello patiently watched a ‘penalty’ incident. He then accepted that he had made a mistake calmly and with a smile, adding that he had not had ‘the advantage of the moviola’. Many players and managers now argue for moviola replays during games, a move which would begin to replace referees altogether.

For referees, the moviola was long seen as an enemy. Many officials hated it, and there were calls for it to be taken off the air on various occasions. After the death of a Lazio fan in 1979, before a Rome derby, the chief referee Giulio Campanati asked for the moviola to be abolished. He argued that slow-motion replays were provoking violence among fans. There is no doubt that the excessive use of moviola ‘evidence’ – now much more sophisticated than in the 1960s – does excite fans and lead to increased hostility towards referees. This is especially true of programmes based almost entirely on the moviola, such as Il processo del lunedì. On one occasion the Italian referees’ association even took the presenter Aldo Biscardi to court. With time, however, referees came to accept – and embrace – the moviola, and many sports programmes now use distinguished ex-referees to comment on replays. Biscardi’s status as the ‘voice of the normal fan’ was shattered by the revelations that emerged during calciopoli in 2006. Luciano Moggi, it seemed, was using the programme for his own ends in order to promote certain referees and discredit others. Phone calls exposed Moggi advising Biscardi on the content of his programme. The moviola was not a neutral instrument, but could be manipulated. Biscardi resigned – only to turn up again soon afterwards on yet another local TV channel. Biscardi had changed his job, but Biscardism remained hegemonic.