"Ogni giorno la vita è una grande corrita, ma la notte no! Ogni giorno è una lotta, chi sta sopra e chi sotta. Ma la notte no!”. These fun and catchy lyrics have been sung by millions of Italians. They are from "Ma la notte no," the famous opening theme of the television program Quelli della notte, which first aired exactly 40 years ago, on April 29, 1985.

This show, created by Renzo Arbore and Ugo Porcelli, marked an era in just 33 episodes, broadcasted until June 14 of the same year. The show aired around 11 p.m., an hour when people would typically go to sleep back then, as the concept of late-night programming didn’t exist. Thanks to this show, the late-night slot would later become very popular.

By tuning in to Rai2, Italians could spend an hour and a half with music, jokes, and sketches, where comedy was the main feature. More than once, the show surpassed a 50% share. We’re not exaggerating: Quelli della notte changed Italian television forever.

In that television lounge, Renzo Arbore, Italy's greatest entertainer of the 20^th century, was the leader of several then unknown characters who are now still icons of Italian television today. Nino Frassica, Maurizio Ferrini, Andy Luotto, Riccardo Pazzaglia, Massimo Catalano, Marisa Laurito, Simona Marchini, Roberto D’Agostino, and Giorgio Bracardi are their names. An extraordinary, inimitable, unreachable army of comedic talents. These names may not be widely known abroad, but here in Italy, they remain part of the history of entertainment, particularly television.

Their performances - almost always improvised - are etched in the memories of Italians. Pazzaglia played the role of a philosopher contemplating the meaning of life and the theory of the "primordial soup." D'Agostino talked about “Reaganian hedonism” and was set to become, thanks to the success of Quelli della Notte, Italy’s most important gossip communicator. Catalano offered genuine "pearls of wisdom" ("It's better to marry a rich, beautiful, and intelligent woman than an ugly, poor, and stupid one"). It was the debut of the extraordinary Nino Frassica, with the character of Father Antonino da Scasazza, famous for his “nanetti” (anecdotes) and mangled words, with the catchphrase "Non è bello ciò che è bello, ma che bello, che bello, che bello”. Frassica was the first to wear a religious habit on TV: back then, jokes about religions weren’t common at all. Then there was Marisa Laurito, "Arbore’s cousin" always waiting for a boyfriend, and Simona Marchini, a dreamer obsessed with soap operas who was the first to talk about gossip on Italian TV with her telephone digressions about the gossip columns in hairdresser magazines. "Non capisco ma mi adeguo," repeated the Romagna representative of pedal boats, Maurizio Ferrini, a staunch pro-Soviet; while Bracardi managed to make even fascist hierarchs from the past funny. Then, Andy Luotto, who spoke a language of his own, fanciful and resembling Arabic: but due to his costume with a typical tunic worn by men from that region of the world, following protests from the Italian Muslim Association and serious threats, risked a diplomatic incident. The King of Jordan complained, and so Luotto changed his character to become an Italian American (which, in fact, he was).

The project, Arbore recalls, was born "after a condominium meeting, at my mother’s house, in Foggia. One of those lively, animated meetings, it was there that the idea came to me." Between talk shows and variety shows, music and comedy, satire on current events and customs, Quelli della notte was "the first horizontal program," as Roberto D’Agostino put it. Until then, there were only vertical programs where a host would say 'and here’s so-and-so...' and the guest would come on. Arbore flipped the format and made it a horizontal program: everyone on stage at the same time. A change that everyone else later copied.

Over the past 40 years, dozens of TV critics, sociologists, and industry professionals have taken the time to analyze the success of this cult show. For many of them, the secret was the introduction of double readings, to appeal to both cultured audiences and those less so. "The imperative was to improvise," insists Arbore. "I was obsessed with jazz, and I had decided that the show should be like a jam session. We did tomfoolery, but without vulgarity, it was the fooling around of intelligent and cultured people who enjoyed joking around with the lowbrow, something that sadly few still practice today." The model was Arbore’s house parties, where, as he recounts, "people would arrive, we’d play music, and say nonsense," and the show mirrored that homey atmosphere even in its set design: "We broadcast from Studio A on Via Teulada, but we used half of it to create a domestic model, telling the audience it was my living room."

Quelli della Notte is part of those masterpieces of the entertainment world that changed history, and as such, it’s almost impossible to explain it to those who didn’t experience it in real time. But while it's hard to relive the sensations, emotions, and laughter it gave us, it’s certainly easy to remember and celebrate it along with its protagonists, led by a legend like Renzo Arbore, to whom we owe our deepest gratitude.