Synopsis:

In 1965, Italy was a marvellous country: the dark period of the war was over, wealth and innovation had transformed everyone’s lives, the future seemed like a red carpet, on which to run… The young had portable record players at 14 years of age, a moped at 16 and their first car at 18. The first broadsheets dedicated exclusively to them were born, first in England and France, and then also in Italy. For the first time, a generation of adolescents took on the status of “generation of consumers”, and bands of experts concentrated on finding goods suitable for this new public. Everywhere the voice of Elvis could be heard, and then that of the fabulous four Paul, John, George and Ringo… and the Rolling Stones... Each note corresponded to a jingle of dollars in the majors’ pockets. Soon the youngsters started to realize their power, and to ask for more: they wanted meeting spaces dedicated to them, away from the adult world. Thus large gatherings and specialized nightclubs were opened. Trendy nightspots sprung up like mushrooms in Paris, Berlin, London, not to mention America. Italy, as always, was the last. But in the end, in 1965, the opening of Piper was announced, a Roman nightclub created for youngsters and the young at heart of all ages. Since the 1960’s Olympics, no event had ever stirred up such interest. To be there was a must, who was there was “in” and who was not there was hopelessly “out”.
The broadsheets did their part, exaggerating news, gossip, myths. The “upper-class young” ordered shirts and dresses from Liberty’s in London, the sauciest mothers forced well-known seamstresses to invent youthful and unforgettable dresses for them. That night, the heart of Rome and the whole of Italy beat loudly in Via Tagliamento. That night love affairs started, marriages ended, storylines for the cinema were written, and above all that unique “Roman mix”, came to light: coupling princesses and grocers, bankers and shampoo girls, young and old. That was Piper, a “magical and unforgettable” place, where everything was possible, where one could laugh and also cry, enjoy oneself and deafen oneself, but in a special way. And this is our story: the days before the opening experienced by a small group of individuals typical of Rome in that period, agreeable and disagreeable, crass and elegant, but all full of life and hope, all anxious to climb up and dance until their legs gave in. If for no other reason than to be able to say the day after, with a touch of arrogance, to one’s friends: “Last night I went to Piper. It’s wicked man… how did we we get by without a place like that before?”