One of my favorite ad campaigns is Al Pacino for Vittoria coffee.
A gruff, Bohemian Al Pacino hurries through Little Italy to the fast-paced intro of Nick Drake’s “‘Cello Song,”. Al Pacino voices over several thoughts but especially on how critical good coffee is to him. Black and white shots of Little Italy and New York cut in and out, while gold bags of coffee adorn a quaint cafe. The pensive cello kicks in, and with the weight of celebrity, age, and that gravelly voice, he points to the coffee and knowingly says
“This is good coffee…Vittoria Coffee”
This all evokes a narrative of Little Italy as an enclave where a true-blue Italian American like Al Pacino goes for good coffee. It comes together beautifully, between the gritty neighborhood shots1 and what feels like a passionate expert musing about coffee in his natural habitat.
While I do love these ads, they paint a picture that is much more fantasy than reality. Al Pacino actually hails from the Bronx. Little Italy itself, while picturesque, is a shadow of its former hub as an Italian enclave. And finally, the centerpiece of these nostalgic scenes is not a product of Italy or the US, but rather Australia.
And despite all that, it takes us on a journey that we enjoy going on anyway.
Little Italy today is a similar experience. It takes you to places you want to go. These few streets in Lower Manhattan are a beautiful homage as it speaks less to what the past was as much as our links to it and our preconceptions of it. It raises meaningful questions to me on the malleability of our grasp of the past and how we seek connection to our past in places like Little Italy.2
Mostly, if we have flawed preconceptions about our past based on our present, do we also have flawed preconceptions about our future based on a flawed understanding of our present?
I believe our view on the future is subject to the same preconceptions and biases.
The evolution of Godzilla, and science fiction’s ability to amplify current day concerns towards a dangerous future, highlights these preconceptions. Godzilla was originally a consequence of the atomic bombs dropped on Japan in 1945 and ongoing nuclear proliferation during the Cold War era. More recent Godzilla monsters originated from climate change or irresponsible corporates run amok3. The character remains more or less intact, but the backstory reflects our more modern fears.
Given the depth and breadth of uncertainty we collectively face today, it feels natural to fear the rapid changes that challenge our confidence in understanding the present and the future. We want to be Al Pacino, waxing poetically about the past we navigated successfully into a brighter future over good coffee and gravelly voices. Uncertainty challenges our faith in growing with the present and the future, as well as our humanity and capacity to understand it.
Amidst swift changes, it is essential to thoughtfully reflect on the present and how that shapes our view and actions towards the future. We can better understand our future free from our biased preferences for a present that becomes past daily. This can illuminate how we manage our discomfort with change. It is not about surviving change, but rather bending and weaving with it and shaping the future we want through it together.
Armed with this insight, we can admire the past without longing for it and approach the future with less attachment to a fickle present. We can admire the place Al Pacino is taking us and the message Little Italy sends us without needing it, while also not being as overwhelmed by the shifting narratives of a dangerous future communicated through Godzilla.
Even more powerfully, we can shape our own future more intentionally and optimistically with an appreciation of what is here today and what we want to carry into our futures together. We should continue to critically evaluate how we understand our present and its relationship to our past and future with a deeper clarity and rationality to create a better future for everyone…and especially one that still has good coffee.
These capture several scenes, of which I want to highlight it includes the Lower East Side Lenin Statue and Albanese Meat and Poultry (next footnote).
Little Italy does try and is still a great place to visit even if it is an homage. For a lovely spot that has a beautiful and strong tie to its heritage and legacy, one would be hard pressed to find a better example than Albanese Meat and Poultry on Elizabeth Street. Jennifer Prezioso, the fourth generation butcher at Albanese, is a New York treasure.
And specifically, corporates run amok without good risk management!