In this week’s episode, Tori Vilches delves into various adaptations of the Italian folk song “Bella Ciao” in Netflix’s La Casa de Papel, demonstrating its role in symbolizing resistance against oppressive structures and contributing to the humanization of the show’s anti-hero characters, ultimately fostering emotional connections between viewers and the show.

This episode was produced by Zach Lloyd along with Team Lead Megan Lyons.

SMT-Pod Theme music by Zhangcheng Lu; Closing music "hnna" by David Voss. For supplementary materials on this episode and more information on our authors and composers, check out our website: https://smt-pod.org/episodes/season03/

[Intro Theme Zhangcheng Lu, “BGM Scales,” followed by producer intro.]

Welcome to SMT-Pod, the premier audio publication of the Society for Music Theory. In this week’s episode, Tori Vilches delves into various adaptations of the Italian folk song “Bella Ciao” in Netflix’s La Casa de Papel, demonstrating its role in symbolizing resistance against oppressive structures and contributing to the humanization of the show’s anti-hero characters, ultimately fostering emotional connections between viewers and the show.

The Italian folk song “Bella Ciao” has been a musical icon for resistance and freedom for years, gaining recent popularity due to its repeated use in the hit Netflix series La Casa de Papel, or, Money Heist, which ran from 2017 to 2021. For those who have not viewed it, the show is a Spanish heist-crime drama that first aired in Spain in 2017. While it was always intended as a limited series the show ended after two seasons. However, Netflix picked up the show for 3 additional seasons, and the show has since become an international success, having been translated or dubbed in several languages. The show was the number one most-watched show on Netflix in the U.S. for six consecutive weeks in 2018. Before diving into the song’s use in the show, I would like to discuss the history of “Bella Ciao” and how it has become part of popular culture.

Scholars like Bermani and Salerno believe that “Bella Ciao,” is a Partisan war song sung by anti-Fascists in the Italian Resistance movement of the 1940s. This movement was in direct opposition to Nazi occupation of Italy and was a protest against fascism, with the Partisans being one group in a larger organization of resistance. However, contrary to popular belief, the song did not originate with the Partisans, and most likely was not even sung by them during wartime. According to Italian journalist and film director Anselma Dell-Olio, the "Bella Ciao” was sung as early as the late 1800s through 1930s by the mondine, who worked in the rice paddies of the Po Valley in Northern Italy. Dell-Olio claims they sang the song in protest of the harsh working conditions. Diana Garvin agrees, explaining that the mondine lyrics tell the story of the original “Bella” of “Bella Ciao.”

The mondine lyrics translated to English are as follows:

In early morning, as dawn is breaking

Goodbye beautiful…

In early morning, as dawn is breaking

To the rice fields we must go

-

Stung by the insects and the mosquitoes,

Goodbye beautiful…

Stung by the insects and the mosquitoes,

Hard work’s no stranger to our sex

-

The boss is standing, his clothes are spotless,

Goodbye beautiful…

The boss is standing, his clothes are spotless,

As we bend and crouch and strain

-

O mother hear me, this work is torture,

Goodbye beautiful…

O mother hear me, this work is torture,

I can’t help but call out your name

-

This rice is bitter but soon we’ll change that,

Goodbye beautiful…

This rice is bitter but soon we’ll change that,

We’ll fight to work in liberty

[Recording of "Bella Ciao"]

The song became associated with the Italian Resistance movement, so much so that there is now a general misconception that the song was sung (with different lyrics) by the Italian Partisans, a group of anti-fascists fighting against Nazi occupiers in Italy in the early 1940s. In fact, many books, articles, and historical writings completely erase the history of the mondine version and attribute the song to the Italian Resistance movement. Moreover, scholars like Daniele Salerno and Marcello Flores still attribute the song to having origins in the Resistance movement. While the question of why and how the mondine version was forgotten is interesting and incredibly important to explore, that topic is for another podcast.

Journalist Giampaolo Pansa claims that there is not enough evidence to argue that the song was even sung by the Partisans of the Italian Resistance. Luigi Morrone explains this is because the song is not included in war-time songbooks like the 1945 publication of the Canta Partigiano, and the 1946 edition of Folklore magazine which had two issues of Italian Resistance songs. However, the exact origins of the resistance version of the song are still unknown. According to Morrone, the first evidence of publication was in 1953 in a magazine titled “La Lapa,” edited by Alberto Mario Cirese. Giorgio Bocca, an Italian essayist who fought in World War II claims that the song was never sung in the Resistance and was a product of the Festival of Spoleto. Although he does not specify which year “Bella Ciao” made its appearance at the Festival of Spoleto, he could be referencing the one that took place in 1964.

According to musician and writer Gualtiero Bertelli, Il Nuovo Canzoniere Italiano, an Italian musical group dedicated to recording folk songs, presented the song in a musical-theatrical show, entitled Bella Ciao, at the Festival dei due Mondi in Spoleto on Sunday, June 21st, 1964. This musical theater show was a performance of several Italian folk and protest songs. This event sparked the widespread popularization of “Bella Ciao.” Regardless of whether the song was actually sung during the 1940s Italian Resistance, the version sung by Il Nuovo Canzoniere Italiano, known as the “Partisan” version of the song, has far surpassed the mondine version in popularity. While the melody remained nearly identical to the mondine version, the lyrics of the Partisan version reflect themes of war, death, freedom, and most importantly, resistance. The Partisan version is the one that is used in La Casa de Papel.

The English translation of the Partisan lyrics are as follows:

One morning I awakened

Oh goodbye beautiful…

One morning I awakened

And I found the invader

-

Oh partisan carry me away

Oh goodbye beautiful…

Oh partisan carry me away

Because I feel death approaching

-

And if I die as a partisan

Oh goodbye beautiful…

And if I die as a partisan

You shall bury me

-

Bury me up in the mountain

Oh goodbye beautiful…

Bury me up in the mountain

Under the shade of a beautiful flower

-

And the people who shall pass

Oh goodbye beautiful

And the people who shall pass

Will tell me: "what a beautiful flower"

-

This is the flower of the partisan

Oh goodbye beautiful…

This is the flower of the partisan

Who died for freedom

I’ll provide links to Il Nuovo Canzoniere Italiano’s recordings of both the Mondine and Partisan versions in the shownotes, but here is one interpretation of how the Partisan version sounds.

[Recording of PARTISAN VERSION]

Across its five seasons, the plot of the show follows two lengthy heists as narrated through the perspective of Tokyo, one of the outlaws. There is a team of eight robbers led by a mysterious, intelligent man who refers to himself as “el Profesor” (the Professor). Each of the robbers is an ex-convict who was hand-picked by el Profesor for their cunning skills to rob the royal mint of Spain in the first two seasons and the Bank of Spain in the last three. In order to conceal their identities, the robbers wear two iconic elements of the series – red jumpsuits and masks with the face of Salvador Dalí. The main characters of the show also refer to each other using aliases made of city names. In their 2020 Netflix documentary, the writers of the series explain that the series has three primary themes - resistance, unity, and freedom.

The writers go on to explain that all three themes are portrayed through the show’s iconographic symbols – the color red, the Dali masks, and their self-proclaimed anthem, “Bella Ciao.” Within the world of the show, the characters are portrayed as martyrs, resisting capitalistic oppression and governmental control – not unlike many anti-heroes of popular heist shows and movies. Anyone who has viewed heist movies like Oceans 11, Inside Man, Bonnie and Clyde (the list can go on) is familiar with the inherent likeability of anti-heroes within this genre. La Casa de Papel is not the first nor is it the last instance in which series writers create a paradoxical relationship between bank robbery and heroism. What does help the show to stand out is the carefully placed implied commentary on Spain’s political system as well as the use of “Bella Ciao,” as an anthem that represents multiple levels of resistance.

While the writers of the show do not necessarily change the stereotypical heist-crime drama formula, they do use “Bella Ciao” as an effective musical device that helps not only make the characters likable and relatable to viewers, but also helps solidify this notion of resisting an oppressive establishment. In context of the show, everyday people view the bank robbers as heroes. While their main goal is to steal millions of dollars, the robbers claim to be part of a resistance group, defying the greedy ruling class and an even greedier government. The writers of the show use this dynamic between the robbers and the police and other government officials as a commentary on current political tensions in Spain, including government corruption, sexism, racism, and xenophobia.

Using “Bella Ciao” in this show helps draw an even closer parallel to the Italian Resistance movement, as the robbers claim to fight against a corrupt system – not unlike the Partisans fighting against the fascists. This is not to conflate the two circumstances. One is a fictional television show that glorifies bank robbery and the other was a movement during the Second World War. While the bank robbers may not have an unselfish ideology like the Partisans, they are driven by the motivation to undermine a sexist, racist, and power-hungry establishment by stealing its money.

But why would the writers of the show choose a song allegedly tied to the Italian Resistance movement as an anthem meant to represent a group of outlaws? More importantly, how does the song’s use in the context of the show lead viewers to understand and connect with the paradoxical relationship between bank robbery and resistance against a corrupt establishment? In a documentary released in 2020 about the series, it is revealed that Javier Gómez Santander, a writer for the series, was searching for a song to use as the show’s anthem. He said he put the song on while brainstorming because the song “motivates” him. While listening, he had a realization that the song would be a perfect fit for the show. Unfortunately, he does not reveal how he came to know the song or for how long it has been familiar to him.

In the show, Bella Ciao is used three times across the five seasons (and once in the final credits scene of season four). For the purposes of this podcast, I focus on the three instances that the song is used while characters are on screen and other narrative elements of episodes are present. In all three cases, some aspects of Bella Ciao are what Claudia Gorbman would describe as diegetic, coming from the world within the show and having the ability to be heard by characters. However, other aspects (like an overlaying of instruments) are what James Buhler describes as “extra-diegetic.” In his book Music and Levels of Narration in Film, Guido Heldt claims that how viewers understand diegetic music is dependent on whether or not the music has a strong purpose and intention. Heldt asserts that the importance of diegetic music lies solely on whether or not it is meant to be noticed, highlighting the difference between storytelling... and storymaking. Storymaking goes beyond the common participation music has in telling the story – it gives the music agency within the creation of the story. Its focus is not on how narration is presented, but what is being presented. I argue that “Bella Ciao” passes the standardized level of narration of music in films as the song takes on an agency that manipulates the emotions of viewers.

In this podcast, I argue that the writers of La Casa de Papel use the song “Bella Ciao” not only to embody the idea of a resistance against a sexist, racist, and money-hungry establishment, but to add depth to, and create an aspect of humanization of the show’s anti-hero characters, creating attachments between viewers and characters of the show. Both of these elements work together as a nuanced, critical commentary of Spain’s current political landscape. One could argue that the characters are already humanized through the narration from Tokyo’s perspective or even through the narrative assumption viewers can draw from experience with other heist films. However, I argue that the song is used to manipulate the emotions of viewers, not only representing the narrative metaphoric theme of resistance, but by giving agency to the song itself within the show to make the characters more likeable and relatable.

While the song is only used three times over the five seasons, its impact is profound, having been sung all over the world in recent protests and social movements. Despite its hundred-year history, the song is now primarily associated with the show, having been deemed an anthem for the show by fans, critics, and the show’s creators. I think the scarcity of the song in the show helps make the moments in which it is used stand out, since each time the song is used, it surrounds a crucial turning point in the series. Each instance also has a completely different instrumentation and style, which I argue is not only used for narration, but emotional manipulation through the creation of the story in that particular moment.

The first two seasons take place in the Royal Mint of Spain where the group of convicts, led by el Profesor, commit a lengthy heist with the goal of printing and stealing just shy of one billion euros. Since they plan to escape through a tunnel that they dig under the bank, the robbers take turns drilling into what seems like a foolproof protective layer inside one of the bank’s vaults. The first time we hear the song “Bella Ciao” is at the beginning of the eleventh episode of the first season, just as the robbers manage to break ground in the vault.

While I will provide descriptions of the scenes that follow, I recommend following the links in the show notes and viewing the scenes via YouTube. The scene opens with an older radio playing the diegetic intro to what we will soon learn is the song “Bella Ciao” on an accordion. The camera pans over stacks of money to Moscow, one of the bank robbers, who is carving a hole into the vault's ground with a pickaxe. Moscow mundanely digs some rocks out of the hole, singing along to the song on the radio. After a few rocks have been taken out, Moscow grabs a handful of dirt and excitedly yells “tierra” (soil). The song gets louder, moving from the background to the foreground, becoming what Kristine Jorgensen would call trans-diegetic – functioning in the space between diegetic and non-diegetic. This moment is crucial for the robbers and the plot – Moscow breaking ground signifies the robbers getting past the thick layer of concrete keeping them (and the money) in the bank. From here, it should be easy to dig a tunnel through the dirt and escape with the money.

As Moscow continues sinking, Helsinki and Tokyo enter the vault and celebrate by singing along and dancing. At the entrance of the fourth verse, Berlin walks in and begins singing. The tempo is slowed down and, as it progresses, gradually accelerates before speeding into an instrumental interlude. The scene flashes to Nairobi, who previously yelling at the hostages to print money faster, is now yelling about how much she loves the sound of the machines printing money. Then there is a flashback to Denver entering the vault and singing the fifth verse with his father Moscow in excitement. The music continues at a slightly faster tempo than the beginning, however, the texture of the music is much thicker, with more instruments and voices added, and the mood is very lively. An accordion drives the rhythm, the string bass plays a polka-like dancing accompaniment, and the robbers sing in unison with the radio. At this point, the robbers are all singing and dancing in celebration and Nairobi joins. By the end of the scene, the robbers are celebrating what we can assume is their impending victory by dancing, hugging, singing, and throwing money (and their hands) in the air in an act of celebration. As the robbers sing the final high note on “per la libertà,” the accompaniment oscillates in the bass with a scale degree pattern of 1 5 1 5 1 5 1.

At the beginning of the scene, the room is well-lit and very clearly portrays a celebratory mood. However, by the end of the scene, the robbers have left the vault and are in a much darker area. This functions as a foreshadowing of events that are forthcoming in the following episodes of season one. The robbers are blissfully ignorant that their distraction of singing the song will cost them greatly in the larger scheme of the heist. Discussing the use of “Bella Ciao” in this moment, La Casa de Papel creator, Álex Pina, states “it was awesome because the series talked of resistance and suddenly, it was the [song of the] Italian partisan resistance…it has the feel of an anthem, an epic feel.”

At this point in the series, viewers have connected with the storyline and characters and are already rooting for the anti-heroes, as is common with this genre. However, the use of “Bella Ciao” in this scene solidifies the show’s intended metaphoric themes of resistance, unity, and freedom against corrupt systems, while also establishing the song as what we will later discover, an “anthem” for viewers to extract meaning from. Perhaps the upbeat tempo, catchy melody, and anthem-like feel to the song create a juxtaposition in viewers’ minds, as the musical elements implicitly encourage viewers to feel pride and excitement for the main characters of the story – those normally perceived as the “bad guys” outside of the show’s character arc.

This original instance of “Bella Ciao” in the show creates a core memory for which viewers base the next two instances upon. In his book, Film, Music, Memory, Berthold Hoeckner describes this occurrence – images stacked in order of experience where the first is more prominent in viewers’ memory – as a visual palimpsest. While the original implications of the scene are backgrounded to make room for the second and third instances, the overall purpose of the song remains. In the following instances, the song also acts as a musical palimpsest in the way that while the melody and lyrics remain the same, the instrumentation, mood, and timbre are quite different, but still highlight this idea of resistance that is so closely tied to the beliefs of the characters.

The second time we hear “Bella Ciao” is two episodes later in episode 13. Similar to the first instance, while I cannot insert recordings, I will provide descriptions of the scene and the music. Do feel free to pause and watch the video that is linked in the show notes. As part of the elaborate heist plan, El Profesor befriends the head police investigator, Raquel Murillo, in what appears to be a meet-cute accident at a coffee shop. Viewers know this dramatic irony is intricately plotted so el Profesor can keep tabs on the heist investigation; however, Raquel does not. After episodes of a flirtatious “will they, won’t they” situation, the scene opens with both characters lying in bed, and el Profesor watching Raquel sleep. He reaches out to touch her face and after this, her phone rings. Raquel shoots out of bed to hear that the police have found a house that could be tied to the heist. Frantically, Raquel gives the orders to search the house, exclaiming that she is on her way and will meet them there. In this moment, she turns to el Profesor and asks him if he could drive her somewhere. Not knowing the location he will be driving her to, but also wanting to keep tabs on the investigation, el Profesor agrees to chauffeur her.

The scene immediately flashes back to what we learn is the night before the heist’s months-long training began. Berlin and El Profesor are sitting at a long table in a dim, candlelit room discussing the logistics and hypotheticals of the impending heist. The room they are in is the dining room of the heist training house in Toledo. This is the same house that was just discovered by police in the previous scene.

Because the plan of the heist is for El Profesor to not enter the bank and instead run the heist from a remote location, Berlin begs el Profesor to promise him that if things go wrong during the heist, El Profesor will escape and abandon the rest of the robbers. With a grave tone, el Profesor explains that he cannot promise that, implying that he would prefer to go down with “the resistance” ending his explanation with the quote “somos la resistencia, no?” (“aren’t we the resistance?”). At this point, strings enter in unison on a long, sustained pitch A. The camera switches back and forth between shots of Berlin and El Profesor, as the latter begins singing, without tempo, the opening verse of “Bella Ciao.”

In between utterances of the melody, Tokyo’s voice narrates the quote “The Professor’s life revolved around one idea: resistance.” Tokyo continues, explaining that his grandfather fought with the Italian Resistance movement against fascists and later taught him the song, and in turn, el Profesor taught the robbers the song. The writers of the show use this anecdote to not only manipulate viewers into building a connection with the characters, storyline, and musical narrative, but also to solidify a connection to the resistance that these robbers align themselves with.

By the end of the verse, Berlin joins and el Profesor smiles as they continue singing. The accompaniment is still very sparse and static. The strings play thin textured chords that have no clear phrasing because of the length of time they are sustained. After they sing “I feel death approaching” the accompaniment makes a dramatic shift. As they sing the verse that begins with “and if I die as a Partisan,” the strings play in low, open fifths and octaves, on pitches A and E. The shift to the lower register creates an ominous and grave tone that is mirrored in the characters’ faces.

A single trumpet plays the tonic and jumps to the fifth above, reminiscent of a war call. More strings are added that move in parallel motion a sixth above the melody. There is a mandolin playing a tremolo at the end of the verse that adds to the texture as well.

As they sing “Bury me up on the mountain,” Berlin stands with a glass of wine in his hand, inviting el Profesor to stand as well. As el Profesor stands, both characters’ body language shows an air of pride and determination. As they sing the repeated “Bella Ciao,” a flute joins the mandolin, and a snare drum plays a martial pattern. As the verse ends el Profesor, also holding a wine glass, has made his way to stand directly in front of Berlin.

While this is only halfway through the five-minute scene, I think it’s important to pause here and discuss the intricacies of the levels of narration the song takes on at this point. This setting is drastically different from the first time we encountered “Bella Ciao.” This particular setting of the song implies gravity and seriousness – quite a drastic shift from the first instance two episodes prior. The accompaniment is sparse, with extended or open tertian harmonies set in a low register for the strings. The texture is very thin but gains intensity as the trumpet and martial drum pattern are added. Also note how the mood of the song reflects the scenery itself. In the first instance, the song was sung in a brightly lit room and the robbers were dancing in celebration. In this scene, the dim-lit room and the preceding serious conversation creates a dark feeling, which coupled with the instrumentation creates a feeling of suspense as if implying a sinister event is forthcoming.

At this point, there is a visual dissolve right as the verse ends with a flashforward to current events. Raquel gives el Profesor directions and his face exhibits anxiety and fear as he begins to realize the direction in which they are driving. As they get closer to their destination, el Profesor realizes the location he is taking Raquel to is in fact the heist training house. The same house where the flashback from the previous scene took place. As they approach the house, el Profesor begins to get nervous, not only because Raquel is about to discover the location where the heist training took place, but because she is also getting closer to discovering his true identity.

While in the car, the strings from the beginning return to play in unison on A, building suspense for the coming events. The martial drum pattern is added, and the strings begin playing the melody of the song. There is a montage of scenes between the flashback the night before the heist training and the current events of el Profesor driving Raquel to the Toledo house.

As the pair pull up to the house, the music fades to the background, but not entirely. Voices begin to hum the melody in unison and el Profesor begins to look worried. A solo operatic tenor voice enters and sings the melody above el Profesor and Berlin. After the tenor sings one line, a men’s choir sings along, adding emphasis and power to the intensity of the scene. Because of Tokyo’s narration at the beginning of this scene, viewers now know that the characters have emotional ties to the song and the Italian Resistance. Misconceptions of the song’s origin aside, perhaps we can interpret this choir singing as the ghosts or memory of the Partisans joining Berlin and el Profesor in solidarity during this key moment of the series.

By the final verse, the montage picks up frequency, flipping between the flashback and current events repeatedly. With each transition, different voices can be heard. In the flashback scene, the editors turn up the sound of el Profesor and Berlin singing, while at the police raid, their voices fade to the back to make room for the tenor and choir singing in harmony as well as the strong rhythmic presence from the drums. Because of the montage, the song functions diegetically while the characters sing in the dining room, meta-diegetically when viewers hear the song during current events, and “extra-diegetically” when the instruments and tenor voice are added. Another interesting element that could be a project in itself is the way the audio is overlayed, highlighting certain instruments, voices, and timbres at different times. For example, one could explore how Berlin’s singing is backgrounded until the scene flashes back and the camera shows him singing, as well as how quickly his voice leaves in order to make room for the police voices during flashes to the raid.

By the end of the scene, the tension has ramped up – the music gets a little faster and the camera’s position adds intensity as it focuses on the characters’ faces head on, instead of from a profile view like before. Just as Raquel finds the training room – with plans, maps, drawings, and other incriminating evidence strewn about, the camera shows el Profesor and Berlin with their glasses of wine raised in the air. They are singing the melodic minor ending of the song while the tenor’s voice soars on the final note. While the ending melody and lyrics are the same as the first instance, in this scene, the song ends with the strings in the bass oscillating between scale degrees 3 and 4 instead of 1 and 5.

Compared to the first instance, the mood in this scene is suspenseful, ominous, and even foreboding. How then, do the writers, directors, and producers create this feeling from the same song melody and lyrics? I think it’s because they really dig into the minor melody of the song and the implications and associations it can bring. That coupled with the instruments used in the orchestration. In the first scene, the accordion played harmonies consisting of i, iv, and V, with the bass line driving the harmony. In this scene, there aren’t clear harmonic changes – just static, long held low notes that outline a minor. One of the most important elements, I argue, is the increasingly insistent martial drum pattern and how it is used to not only imply the gravity of the situation as the police make their discovery, but also the increasing anxiety el Profesor feels as Raquel gets closer to discovering major plans for the heist.

While viewing this particular scene on an external screen, we also have an internal screen that recalls the initial instance of the song within the show. It is important to note that for those who have prior knowledge of or experience with the song, their first interaction serves as their core memory, and their relationship with the song in the show may be slightly different, as they have previous associations with the song. This idea of having an internal screen that recalls previous memories with a song in film is coined by Berthold Hoeckner as a “double projection.” The double projection in this case adds depth to the characters and storyline, as viewers recall the contrasting moods between both instances. Because the episode with the police is only two episodes after the first encounter with “Bella Ciao” in the show, the song is fresh in viewers’ memories. The scene with the police raid is suspenseful and nerve-wracking, creating a huge moment of tension that directly juxtaposes the first instance when the robbers are celebrating their impending victory and singing “Bella Ciao” in the vault.

The double projection also provides viewers with an emotional depth, as they start to not only associate the song with characters they love, but also feel the intense emotions the characters feel through the musical timbres of instruments – especially the insistent martial drum that gets louder and louder as the scene progresses. I argue this moment in particular is a crucial turning point in the series. In the 2020 Netflix documentary about the success of the show, executive director Jesús Colmenar explains, viewers have “a bond with the series that [goes] beyond just the entertainment," arguing that viewers form connections with the humanity and relatability portrayed in the robbers. He explains that the connection runs deep because of "Bella Ciao” itself. In discussing the use of the song in this scene, screenwriter Javier Gómez Santander, explains quote “you start to love [the song]… It takes on a mythological dimension when you realize that it is emotional territory, sacred territory, for the characters,” end quote.

In a way, it becomes emotional territory for viewers as well, as they begin to form an emotional connection with the characters and song. In addition to this, the timbre of instruments in scene is incredibly intense, which can heighten emotions of viewers. This phenomenon in films is known as an “affective attachment,” which in essence, is the way music influences trust between viewers and the narrator while also manipulating emotional bonds between viewers and the characters. Perhaps we can think of the “bond” that Colmenar discusses in the previous quote as an affective attachment, with the intensity of the music eliciting a strong emotional connection between viewers and the show’s characters.

After this scene, the song has been solidified as an anthem for the show, effectively representing the resistance that el Profesor was talking about at the beginning of the scene. This is also the longest version of the song in the show by several minutes. The montage, coupled with the double projection of the first scene, and the extra-diegetic music work together to create affective attachments that help manipulate viewers to connect with the song, characters, and in turn, the show as a whole. This scene also has the most visually complex image narration and meaning and really uses the music to embody characters emotions, in turn affecting the emotions of viewers. Similarly, the writers of the show use the palimpsest of the song being associated with the Italian Resistance in order to enforce the notion of the robbers uniting in resistance against the oppressive establishment of higher powers in Spain.

The last time the song is used is in the eighth episode of the final season. For context but without spoilers, the team of robbers are in the thick of their second heist at the Bank of Spain. The robbers have successfully broken into the water-sealed vault that protects 90 tons of gold ingots, and their goal is to melt the blocks of gold into smaller pebbles and flush them through an underground pipe before escaping. After having recently and unexpectedly lost two main characters in the heist, the robbers are discouraged and in mourning, but they persist.

Robbers Lisbon and Pamplona are in an elevator when they hear drums and faint singing. As the elevator opens, a large group of robbers are celebrating yet another impending victory by singing the second verse of the song, accompanied solely by a rhythmic section of drums. On-screen, the robbers are creating polyrhythmic percussion with random items found in the room – a coffee cup, a metal barrel, and their hands. However, overlayed with this image is the sound of a percussion ensemble playing a samba in the traditional Brazilian batucada style. There is a trans-diegetic use of music in this scene, as viewers see characters playing on makeshift percussion instruments like large barrels and shakers which emulate the surdos, tamborins, and other instruments associated with the batucada style playing off-screen.

At the coda of the song, a fuller instrumentation is added, featuring wind instruments like the flute, and a bass line that is identical to the first instance’s ending bass (1 5 1 5 1 5 1). The mood in this scene is not as heavy as the previous instance, but not quite as celebratory as the first. It feels heavier than the first instance, which is supported by the body language and facial expressions of the robbers. One purpose of “Bella Ciao” in this scene is that it acts as a “final hurrah” or one last rallying cry for the robbers, as a way to boost morale and encourage the robbers to keep working towards their goal. While on the surface it may seem similar to the first instance, the surdos playing in a low register and the strings sustaining notes does not create the march like feel like in the first instance. This scene feels triumphant but at a cost – there’s a weariness behind it. Because this is the third time the song is used in the show, it also feels like a nostalgic moment that can cause viewers to “doubly project” previous instances of the song and recall what the song means not only to the characters, but to the viewers themselves.

The song’s use in this scene also acts as a commentary of Spain’s tenuous history surrounding immigration and race as a whole. The use of a traditional Brazilian samba in this instance is a deliberate political statement made by the writers of the show. As I discussed earlier, while the robbers do not have altruistic ideals, they do claim to act in resistance against the oppressive, greedy establishment of Spain, many of whom are personified by the racist and sexist police and government officials in the show. A clear example of this is character Gandía who can be assumed to be a stand-in representation for the right-wing extremist political parties like Vox. Each of the robbers are representative of “misfits” or outcasts in one way or another whether it be because of immigration status (in the case of Helsinki, Oslo, and Palermo), race (in the case of Nairobi, sexual orientation (in the case of Palermo and Helsinki), gender identity (in the case of Julia), or linguistic heritage (in the case of Moscow and Denver). Even Raquel leaves the police force, perhaps as a statement in defiance of the corruption she witnessed and sexism she experienced when she was the head investigator of the police force.

While the scope of this podcast is not meant to explore the tenuous political history of Spain, its colonial history, and the centuries of ensuing racial and political tensions, it is important to highlight the strained relationship Spain has had with Latin America regarding cultural identity. Similarly, I find it crucial to highlight the increasing presence of right-wing extremist political parties like Vox and the Catalan separatist groups. As cultural and racial relations between Spain and Latin America have improved in the recent decades, immigration or otherness in general is still perceived negatively in Spain, especially by right-wing purists. While Vox has only been active for a decade, Francisco de Borja Navarro explains that the “us vs them” ideology is used as a tool of separation between minoritized groups and a larger, purist establishment.

Scholar Marc Guijoan comments on increasing discrimination against minority groups in Spain by Vox, and according to Darren Lilleker and Marta Pérez-Escolar, immigrants are often framed as criminals. Right-wing nationalist groups like Vox view otherness as compromising purity in Spain. Therefore, by featuring a musical style tied not only to a Portuguese-speaking country, but also to Afro-Brazilian roots, the writers of the show underscore even further the notion of misfit characters that are not the idealized personification of the purist establishment in resistance against these oppressive governmental structures.

As the song ends, Tokyo narrates, explaining that the hugging is not just a celebration of the victory, or a tribute to the robbers who died in the heist; instead, it signifies quote a “primal roar of a handful of insignificant people” end quote who managed to do the impossible. She asserts that their heist is quote “a message of hope to the world – there’s nothing that’s impossible,” end quote. At the end of the song, we see (and hear) several symbols: characters with their fists in the air, which is interpreted as supporting the resistance; a group hug, signifying unity; an ascending melodic minor melody with the lyrics “per la libertà” (for the freedom). It's also important to note that while each use of the song is unique due to their instrumentation, intended mood, and function within the show, all three instances end with two key elements – the same melody and the act of raising fists, or glasses of wine, in the air. This fist in the air, coupled with a song culturally associated with the Italian resistance helps signify the show’s theme of “resistance.” The power of the show’s anthem helps reinforce the emotional connection between viewers and characters.

Unfortunately, the scope of this podcast does not include the space to comment on how “Bella Ciao” is used as a musical palimpsest for protests across the world. Daniele Salerno’s 2023 article explores connections between the song’s use in La Casa de Papel and its influence on recent protests including in Ukraine and Iran. Salerno also highlights how the themes of resistance in the show help signify the song as resistance against various oppressive structures. Other avenues of exploration could include deciphering what musical markers exactly signify this song as embodying resistance. What about the melody or form of the song makes it memorable and easy to use? How does that intersect with the instances in the show and in real-life protest? Unfortunately, these questions do not fit the scope of this project, but they would make for great future projects!

With the nuanced layers of palimpsest, double projections, and affective attachments, the writers use the song to help portray the theme of resistance against oppressive systems through a group of misfits and a song that is falsely tied to the Italian Resistance movement. The show itself is a masterclass on arranging the same song for different purposes and moods. The different instrumentations of “Bella Ciao” not only help portray narrative of their respective scenes, but they also help build emotional connections between the characters and viewers by helping humanize the robbers. “Bella Ciao” functions not just as a way to tell the story, but as an agent in itself, making the story successful. Without its anthem of resistance, La Casa de Papel would not be the same.

It is with sincere gratitude that I acknowledge those who have helped shape this project into how it stands today. I want to give warm thanks to Jennifer Beavers, Megan Lyons, Katrina Rousch, and the rest of the SMT Pod editorial board for their hard word, communication, and belief in this project.

I’m sincerely grateful for my friend and colleague Drake Eshleman who not only provided feedback and insight for this project, but also introduced me to the collaborating musician for this project, Josh Marion. Thank you, Josh, for providing fantastic accompaniment. I offer my heartfelt appreciation to my colleagues Reed Mullican and Thomas Collison who allowed me to bounce ideas around while I was crafting the project. I would like to extend my gratitude to Daniel Bishop for his insightful comments and feedback on an earlier version of this project, and to Orit Hilewicz, who was kind enough to dedicate countless hours of her time in the last year to provide me with thoughtful comments and suggestions on several earlier drafts. Lastly, it is with great thanks that I offer my deepest gratitude to my peer reviewer, Javier Leon, who greatly helped shape the current status of the project. I’m very thankful for his fantastic contributions to the project and the feedback and commentary he provided.

[Outro Theme: David Voss, “hnna”]

Visit our website smt-pod.org for supplemental materials related to this episode and to learn how to submit an episode proposal. Join in on the conversation by tweeting your questions and comments about this episode @SMT_Pod. SMT Pod's theme music was written by Zhangcheng Lu with closing music by David Voss. Thanks for listening!