This centenary, at least in Italy, was full of surprises. For several years and as recently as just last year, the entire debate around Pasolini, with very few exceptions, seemed to be limited to an examination of the homophobic or political causes behind his violent death. The question of it being a poet who had been murdered was not considered at all, not least because there was widespread doubt as to whether Pasolini had actually been a poet at all. Today, however, the chorus is unanimous: it was a poet who died on the beach at Ostia, just a stone’s throw from Rome. Pasolini was a poet not only when composing his verses, but also when writing his novels, from Ragazzi di vita to Petrolio;a poet when preparing texts for the theatre or directing his films; a poet when claiming on the pages of Corriere della sera that he knew the names of those who had instigated massacres that had spilled so much blood in Italy, but that he could not divulge them for lack of proof.