Original subtitles

TIMELESS CINEMA

THE POWER OF A SMILE

Seeing that you too are so nicely applauding Giulietta Masina,

let me tell you about the other Giulietta — Pallina.

Cico and Pallina.

Two fiancés, two lovers.

A couple who appeared as characters in the pages of a magazine

and later in a radio series written by a certain Federico.

Not many people remember Pallina today.

Well, that was me — Giulietta.

And Cico — Federico — was Fellini.

I remember that Pallina felt a bit too small,

so she wore double soles made of cork to look taller.

She had a sheepskin overcoat, always drank black cherry liquor in bars

and, in her world, the cinema was just a place she'd go after dinner.

"How many bags of love do you have for me?"

"200,000," Cico would reply.

"And you?"

"Well, I have even more!"

"Tell me how many!"

"No, I'm ashamed. I won't tell you."

And Cico was happy.

And he promised he would bring her a piece of a star —

no matter how small — that she could keep by her pillow at night.

At the time, nobody would have thought that the small and simple Pallina

would one day become the famous diva, Giulietta Masina.

My childhood was split in two.

When I was four, we came to Rome,

so I completed all my studies here in Rome.

I lived with an aunt, the sister of one of my mom's brothers,

a university professor.

But during the summer holidays,

which at that time lasted four months,

we'd all go outside of the city.

By "all," I mean myself and my four siblings.

For two or three months, we'd go to the mountains.

And then in September and October — the so-called grape harvest time —

we'd go to the small town where all of us were born,

San Giorgio di Piano.

This was a delightful town, which I always carry inside me

in the form of an extraordinary memory.

I always considered it to be a sort of land of toys.

It could have been drawn by Walt Disney.

I still have vivid memories of it

even if I didn't live there for long.

I can still clearly remember the smells, the sounds,

the things, the people and the colors.

I was brought up by the Ursuline Sisters.

We had a little theater.

Actually, the little theater was for the elementary-school kids,

including Giulietta when she was that age.

But I was already being assigned the roles of major characters.

Indeed, I debuted at the age of eight or nine

with a part-sung, part-spoken monologue —

"All'orfanella non date amore."

They dressed me up in a huge black smock

with a small white collar,

two braids that I —

I'm not blonde. I'm a brunette, and I have very straight hair.

Ever since I was a child, I wore a fringe with long straight hair on the sides.

They used to call it a "French" hairstyle.

So I had these two little braids, this tiny white collar

and this massive black smock.

And I apologize to my mother and father, but I really did feel

like I was the little orphan girl of my monologue.

The whole thing ended with lots of applause,

but I was crying.

I was truly distressed, and they couldn't get me to calm down.

I started acting seriously in university theater.

After my debut, I received some offers.

One of them was for theater, but I had to turn it down

because my family wanted me to finish university

and get a degree.

At the same time, I received an offer for radio work in Rome.

to be the young female lead in their spoken-theater plays.

In particular, I was cast...

for the role of Pallina

in what today would be called a radio drama.

It consisted of a series of single-act programs,

entitled Cico and Pallina.

They were very successful, and their radio adventures kept going.

And one day I received a phone call from the show's writer, Federico Fellini.

He asked me for a photograph, as they wanted to make a film from the series,

entitled Ognigiorno è domenica.

My aunt sent our maid to deliver my photographs.

He liked them, and he asked me on a date.

For me, it was love at first sight,

I felt as if I'd met Byron, Shelley,

Laurence Olivier.

The moral of the story is that I never made Ognigiorno è domenica,

but, less than a year later, we were married.

For example, I'd like to understand if you are like Gelsomina in La strada,

like Fortunella in Fortunella, like Juliet in Juliet of the Spirits.

Are your characters like you at least in some way?

I think I'm mostly myself even when I'm playing a character,

except when someone interviews me.

Speaking about oneself depends so heavily on a mood,

on the location,

on the time in your life —

which may be serene, happy or even dramatic.

So having to tell you who I am...

First of all, I'm confused. I don't have a clear idea of my identity.

However, I probably am Gelsomina, Fortunella, Cabiria.

Maybe Cabiria more than all of them in terms of personality.

When we made La strada, we rehearsed two years before production.

But then La strada —

The film was put on hold for two years

because the producers had understood the script of La strada

as the script of a story similar to Carmen,

a story of love, death and jealousy.

But they were wrong.

Gelsomina was far from the magnificent Carmen.

She was more of a little rat, a little animal,

an extraordinary, small creature

that required my funny little face,

my petite stature.

Gelsomina was born to carry a burden that is too heavy for her,

to drag her feet and never fully open her eyes,

or the cunning eyes of Giulietta would have emerged.

She never has a truly courteous or confident smile.

Her smile always had to be clumsy,

and I rediscovered that smile in certain photographs of mine

from when I was three or four years old.

However, I tackled the character of Gelsomina in an awkward way.

It's an attitude I tend to have that is a mistake

and quite costly when it comes to Federico.

Strangely enough, whenever I start shooting a film with Federico,

I always tend to strike out, to behave defensively.

This attitude of mine is wrong, and I apologize to Federico.

But if he makes another film with me,

I'd go right back to having that same attitude.

In La strada, this attitude of mine was particularly bad,

because I'm very curious by nature

and I like to understand what I need to do,

from the most elementary and simple things to complex ones, like playing Gelsomina.

I wanted explanations.

But I was wrong. I hadn't understood that I needed to find the character,

to discover her,

to define her.

Gelsomina would become famous all over the world.

She represents innocence overwhelmed.

She provokes a desire to communicate with others.

She exhibits the sense of nature as a mystery.

She calls to mind the irrational moments of childhood.

In Fellini, we find a yearning for a complete morality.

In his wife, he found the most faithful identification with his character.

One of the people who most contributed to the human qualities of La strada

is its leading actress, Giulietta Masina.

I'm also very happy about this 58th award

handed out for La strada.

We were actually supposed to extend our stay in America

and travel to various cities, including Philadelphia and Washington,

to collect other awards we had won.

But, unfortunately, we were unable to stay over there any longer

because we need to complete

and prepare the presentation of Nights of Cabiria in Cannes.

On the occasion of the Festival of Italian Cinema in London,

La strada was screened in the presence of Her Majesty and Prince Philip,

Margaret and the Queen Mother.

The film was received very enthusiastically.

I remember it went really well. Mamma mia!

As you know, the English are famous for their self-control.

At the end, they were throwing their derbies and top hats in the air,

while shouting "Hip, hip, hooray!"

I think they had actually taken me for a girl working in a circus, a real pauper.

They thought I'd cleaned up and gotten dressed to be at the premiere,

that someone had given me a fur coat, but that I was as poor as in the film.

As we made our way out in the middle of two rows of people applauding,

an elderly woman took off a silver necklace

with green gemstones,

handed it to me and said, "For Gelsomina."

And you have no idea what arrived at the hotel the next day.

Wool stockings, scarves, sweaters, shawls.

I couldn't believe it!

They thought Gelsomina was really a poor girl from the circus.

They thought Federico had found me in a circus

before marrying me out of pity.

In truth, I had already been his wife for ten years.

We got married in 1943.

La strada was released in 1954 in America and in 1955 over there.

Once upon a time, a foreign actress couldn't win an Oscar.

The film could win in the category of Best Foreign Film.

But it had to be...

Every aspect of the film —

the actors, the script, the music and so on —

had to be worthy of an Oscar.

So at the previous Oscar Awards,

La strada won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film.

The next year, we were in contention with Nights of Cabiria.

Naturally, the film was nominated for the Oscar,

but there were five competitors.

The producer, Dino De Laurentiis, and Federico

both thought it was impossible that we would win again.

We had the same producer, same director. The music was by maestro Nino Rota again.

We had the same cinematographer, Martelli, the same actress. It seemed impossible.

I was a bit sad,

as I really liked the idea of going back to Hollywood.

I also liked the idea because, when I'd been there for La strada,

I had accumulated autographs.

I'd asked every actor I came across for one.

But I was still missing some pretty big names —

Clark Gable, Van Johnson...

Bette Davis and so on.

Anyway, I reluctantly accepted that we couldn't go.

Guess what I did? I called a fortune-teller I knew,

and said, "Ginona" — that was her name — "what should I do?"

"Signora, you're in God's hands. I think you have a 90% chance of winning it.

I would go."

So I called De Pirro and said, "I'm ready.

It's nine o'clock. I just need time to pack."

The plane was leaving from Ciampino.

So he sent a car for me from the Ministry of Culture.

I just barely made it to Ciampino

and went on a truly adventurous trip.

I got to New York at 5:00 a.m.

I didn't know English.

Someone from the embassy was supposed to pick me up, but nobody was there.

I thought, "What should I do now?" I sat down on my suitcase.

Fortunately, a Black porter walked by.

I said, "Yes! I have this ticket.

Please, I have to go to the Oscars in Los Angeles, in Hollywood."

I said, "Are you pretending to shoot me?" He'd actually been a soldier in Italy.

He loaded me into a car driven by another Black man

who rushed me to another airport

where he delivered me to Pan American.

They loaded me onto the plane, and I made it to Los Angeles

where it was 7:00 p.m., and Seaton was waiting for me.

- He said — - So just in time?

No! The ceremony was starting at 8:00 p.m.!

He said, "Look, I've found a room at the airport. Change in there."

I'd brought a very cute white tulle dress,

but it was all crumpled up.

Luckily, I'd also brought a more modest black dress which had survived the trip.

I got to the theater, and it was an extraordinary moment.

I sat in seat number 13,

just as I had for La strada.

When I saw that number, I thought, "Giulietta, we're going to win!"

When he read out the titles of the five nominated films,

he said "The Night of Cabiria,"

while the public knew the film simply as Cabiria.

My heart was pounding, and there was absolute silence.

Fred Astaire came onstage

with a young actress whose name I can't recall.

Seaton handed the envelope containing the winner's name

to Fred Astaire.

He opened it, and as soon as he said "The Nights,"

I jumped up as if I had been propelled out of my seat.

By the time he said "Cabiria," I was already onstage!

But we must say you also made many important films

with other important directors such as Rossellini, in Europe '51.

That was at the very start of my career.

- Alongside Ingrid Bergman. - With Ingrid.

- How did you get along with her? - Wonderfully.

I was so —

I considered her monumental, in a good sense.

I hadn't made La strada yet.

So I was struck by this woman who was so cheerful and balanced

and had chosen such an intense character.

She had also chosen a man I admired a lot, Roberto, and she truly loved him.

She had left behind an entire world for him without losing her balance

or her extraordinary strength of character.

She'd left behind her previous success and so on.

I played a character called Passerotto,

the first of a long series of prostitutes I played.

The character was a prostitute who had a child,

but she kept working to feed seven or eight adopted children.

These kids weren't adopted legally.

But she would adopt all the kids she met.

She lived in a shack with a leaking roof.

She'd hide under an umbrella, with curlers in her hair.

And, of course, the person who helped her was this sort of Swedish angel,

Ingrid Bergman.

It was just a small part.

Roberto actually said to me, "Who knows, I'd like to turn it into a big character."

- And what happened? - Nothing came of it.

Every time I'd meet him, I'd say, "Roberto, why don't we work together?

Let's make a film with a low budget. Something like Paisan."

I really love —

Even if I rarely make films, I miss cinema as it was made in the old days.

I don't have —

I'm free to speak since Federico isn't here.

- You don't speak if he's around? - As little as possible. Another question?

I'd like to ask about your relationship with another director

with whom you made a great film alongside Anna Magnani.

- Nella città l'inferno. - Renato Castellani.

And about your meeting with Anna,

as I believe these are also important moments in your career.

Well, there's no use in me crying or saying how much...

I admired and loved Anna.

- Even if, as two Pisces, our characters... - You were two opposites.

No, that was basically not the case.

We weren't. I guess it depends on masks.

She wore a very tragic mask.

I have the look of a schoolteacher,

which suits me just fine.

So you like looking like a schoolteacher?

I know this, but Federico always tells me

that I have blacks and whites but no grays.

This is why in Juliet of the Spirits,

the last quarter of an hour —

in which she finally conquers her own solitude

and, therefore, her excruciating pain for having been left alone —

is the only quarter of an hour —

- That resembles you. - No. It doesn't resemble me.

I can accept and like it.

Giulietta Masina has spent 15 days in prison.

Yes, I'm in prison.

I'm shooting a film set in a women's prison —

more precisely, Le Mantellate in Rome —

and directed by Renato Castellani.

I'm very happy to be working with Anna Magnani.

You were also telling me that you'll be singing in your next film.

Yes, I'll be shooting The Threepenny Opera in Germany,

under Käutner's direction,

and I will have to sing

the songs of the opera in their original language, German.

I'm blonde poison

My darling, for you

So why don't you give me a try?

And when you give me a kiss For me it's highest bliss

But perilous to you

Because I'm impulsive and attractive

I'm primitive and wild

I'm complete and so naïve

And manic depressive

I'm blonde poison

Which has an effect on you

The same as you on me

I'm blonde poison

Which has an effect on you

The same as you on me

Welcome, Giulietta.

I'm truly happy to have you here,

also because I know you've never been in light entertainment on TV.

It's absolutely true!

Why is that? Do you not enjoy light entertainment?

Of course I like it! You should know that well,

as I was always applauding you from the front row

when you worked in commedia musicale.

Ever since I was a child, whenever I'd hear music,

go to a show or a ballet,

I had to make a real sacrifice to keep my feet still.

So, you can imagine —

You should also remember that while you were shooting A Dog's Life,

I was shooting Variety Lights.

They were two rival films.

I was working with Lattuada and Fellini.

- Why were you working with Fellini? - Ah, he's my husband.

It was an experience I really enjoyed,

and I'm sorry it hasn't happened again, at least in the cinema.

I played a showgirl —

a flirty, resourceful girl —

but it was still a great experience.

I would go on before the great Noschese and Goggi,

and I was a quick-change artist.

I had a sort of, what should I call it, a chest

covered in red satin and golden fringes

and featuring my stage name — Melina Amour.

I would plunge into the chest and emerge dressed up

as Napoleon!

The crowd would boo and blow raspberries.

However, one character redeemed me in the eyes of the audience.

Who was it?

With a long blond beard and an unsheathed sword —

Garibaldi, he was injured He was injured in the leg

One day, Federico asked me, "Do you know who will be directing Fortunella?

Eduardo."

I was deeply happy and also intimidated.

I come from the theater.

How could I not feel intimidated about working

with a maestro like Eduardo?

So we began working...

and Eduardo immediately made me feel at ease.

I remember that on the first day, I called him "Maestro."

He said, "No. Avoid calling me that. Do you understand, Patanè?"

He later explained that "patanè" meant "potato chip"

and referred to the shape of my nose.

Thus began my anxious...

collaboration with Eduardo De Filippo.

Especially to begin with, he immediately left me...

a lot of freedom

in tackling the character as I felt and saw her.

And I enjoyed doing so.

He liked the fact

that I truly enjoyed exploring the character.

One day, we were shooting in the Safa Palatino Studios,

and during a break at the restaurant, he said...

"Look, Giulietta, you need to remember two things.

If you want to entertain the audience, try not to have too much fun yourself.

In the same way, if you want to move the audience to tears,

don't let yourself be moved to tears too easily."

I didn't really understand what he meant.

But he put his words into practice when, during a scene

which was supposed to be both funny and touching...

he taught me like the great maestro, comedy writer,

director and, above all, theater company leader that he is.

He made me play the scene which included a long dialogue.

This was an unhinged, meaningless,

almost improvised dialogue by my character, Fortunella.

First, he let me play it as I wanted.

Then he took me aside and gave me an incredible lesson

on directing and acting at the highest level.

Later, I felt very touched when someone told me...

that upon naming the actors he had loved

and was happy to have worked with...

he had included Patanè. That's me, even years later.

Last night, the Armida Theater

hosted the inauguration of the Incontri Internazionali del Cinema festival,

now in its second year.

The first evening of the festival was dedicated to Giulietta Masina.

After the film had been screened,

the Undersecretary for Entertainment and Tourism, Battista,

gave Giulietta Masina a golden siren

in celebration of her acting skills.

Giulietta Masina came to Sorrento

during a break in the production of Juliet of the Spirits,

directed by Federico Fellini.

Giulietta, your welcome here in Sorrento was very touching.

But, rather selfishly, we'd like to ask you for some information

on the film Fellini is shooting at the moment — Juliet of the Spirits.

Tell me more specifically what information you're looking for.

Don't ask me about the plot, since even I don't know it.

What character is Giulietta Masina playing in this film?

She isn't a clown

or a prostitute.

She is an older woman...

educated in a bourgeois setting.

Her education is similar to how most...

ladies are brought up.

I said "ladies" because Giulietta is a married woman.

She has a family — a mother and some marvelous sisters.

She has a marvelous husband. Her life is all marvelous.

At a certain point in her life,

she realizes that...

all these things aren't enough.

She needs something else

in order to feel more confident,

to rediscover herself, to feel more serene.

This film will certainly be adored by a female audience.

It will be —

Let's speak of a message, since it's become so fashionable...

to do so in cinema.

The film will carry a message of love for the whole female world.

The entire female world — wives, sisters, daughters.

Ladies and gentlemen,

the David di Donatello Award for Best Actress —

for the Italian film Juliet of the Spirits,

directed by Federico Fellini and produced by Rizzoli Film —

goes to Giulietta Masina!

Many characters are now climbing onto the stage with Giulietta Masina.

Even if they say that the time of divas has waned,

we can still say that an award given to Giulietta Masina

rewards an actress who relies on her great capacity for expression

for the success that has led her to win this David.

Perhaps an additional pleasure for Giulietta Masina,

besides the satisfaction of winning this award,

would be to receive it from Federico Fellini.

Am I right? Please.

Come to your wife's side at this important moment, Federico.

Do it again from another angle. For the cameras. Over here!

Mrs. Masina.

Go over there. Next to her, Federico.

I wanted to ask you if you believe Gelsomina, Cabiria and Juliet —

despite being such different characters — share a common ground?

Well, I think that's so.

They're like three little sisters.

Naturally, they're all slightly different.

Gelsomina is the most naïve, the simplest of the three.

But she has the same extraordinary grace of innocence that children do.

Cabiria is more experienced, more aggressive.

But, deep down, she too has a great need for love

and understanding.

Juliet is the most evolved of the three,

yet she shares with the other two

this huge need to be loved and to love.

Indeed, Juliet says, "I love you.

And even if you don't love me back,

this gives sense to my life and is enough for me."

Actually, I don't fully agree

with the wife depicted in Juliet of the Spirits.

I don't know if all wives tell their husbands,

"Yes, darling, you go off with your lover, and I'll wait for you.

In the meantime, I'll go for a walk in the pine forest."

That's not my way of seeing things.

Signora, you've worked with various directors.

You are famous on an international level.

Actually, I'd like to deliver the news that you recently were awarded

the Best Foreign Actress Award in New York.

What kind of difference does it make being directed by your own husband?

Naturally, Federico is more demanding with me, and that's how it should be.

I can guarantee that sometimes, when working with Federico,

I feel like changing jobs and becoming a director.

I have a potentially very fun film in mind,

especially for wives, since it's about husbands!

- What would the title be? - Federico of the Spirits!

Thank you.

Thank you, Giulietta.

Regarding the bourgeoisie you say you belong to,

you never portrayed it in your films.

You were either very poor, someone like Gelsomina,

or a petite Roman prostitute.

But as soon as you moved over to television, you changed social class.

Eleonora is bourgeois by birth.

However, she abandons that bourgeois environment

to lead an exemplary life

which could even provide a model

for some of the most uninhibited feminists of our times.

I don't know how many of the girls who now challenge the system

would choose their great love

over a millionaire family like the Fontana one,

capable of giving her limited-production cars, apartments and so on.

Maybe they too would escape,

but how long would they resist alongside the sort of "hippy" that Andrea is?

He would come and go as he pleased, never gave her any money.

He'd get her pregnant every time he came home.

In the end, he always left her alone with no money.

She is a bourgeois woman,

but what a brave and revolutionary one she is.

- And a dissident too. - Very much so.

In a well-rounded character,

there are no cultural or qualitative levels.

There is only one level that determines if a character is loved by the public —

a high standard of humanity.

Eleonora was loved by the public.

In other words, I really liked Eleonora.

I loved her so much!

Can you imagine? They stopped Federico — I mean Fellini, my husband.

A kid asked him,

"Mister, are you the husband of Eleonora?"

I have lots of plans, plenty of secret dreams.

For example, I must confess

that for 15, maybe 16 years — I've lost count —

I have been in love with a modern saint.

I think everyone would like her as much as I do.

Her being a saint is not that relevant.

I'm speaking of Frances Cabrini, the first American saint.

Now they've made another one,

but she was previously the only American saint.

She was an extraordinarily modern figure,

full of love.

Not all saints —

Well, let's not speak of that now.

She's an extremely modern figure, and I'm thinking about her.

I even talk to her.

There's a statue of Frances Cabrini in St. Peter's.

It's been placed a little too high,

and I find that unfair, since she was an extraordinary woman.

Sometimes I miss her.

She's a figure I feel within me,

not in her sanctity but in her industriousness and imagination.

I even have conversations with her. I go to St. Peter's to say to her,

"My dear Frances, 15 years have already gone by.

Isn't it time for me to make a film about your life?

If you don't want me to do it, at least have someone else make it!"

As we wait for your hopes to come true, and I'm sure they will because I know you,

let me ask you how you put up with Fellini as a husband for so many years.

I'd love to have a funny answer, but I don't.

How did I put up with him?

First of all...

I think it's easier to put up with someone intelligent.

I think it's much harder to put up with a stupid person your whole life.

That's certainly true.

What's more, I defended our marriage.

Naturally.

And then I...

I feel a bit like Cabiria right now.

I always fell in love with cinema actors.

For example, Leslie Howard.

Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind.

And I would also fall in love with characters in books.

I always tended toward highly childish evasion.

Plus, you're asking me

how I lived with and put up with Federico for such a long time,

but I think Federico also...

did a pretty good job in putting up...

with a bourgeois cinema actress.

Moreover...

he's a great director and was surrounded by beautiful women.

Even if he ignored them, they'd make a real effort to get his attention.

Between the two of us, I think he's the one who behaved better.

Were you ever afraid of identifying yourself with the wife in 8 1/2?

Other people saw me in her.

I really liked the film,

and I think that after many years of marriage...

every woman would like to receive a declaration of love

like the one the protagonist of 8 1/2 dedicates to his wife.

So I didn't really identify myself with her.

I liked the film so much that I said,

"You know what? All in all, I'm okay with it."

Did you have a talk after the first viewing?

We didn't talk.

Federico was next to me.

We were alone, and I started crying. I was so moved.

Because I really loved 8 1/2.

So I cried, yes.

Please forgive the intimate question, signora.

Did the absence of children have an impact on your lives?

Yes. A lot.

Because, at the start, we wanted to have them.

And then — And then...

We were alone...

so we felt the need to love one another even more.

Federico and I are not a family. We're a couple.

I'm well aware that all cohabitations —

not only between husbands and wives, but also between siblings, with parents,

with a boss — are always difficult.

I think —

I'm not looking for excuses, but I have often seen

couples with many children,

and the children had become a form of blackmail

forcing the couple to live together.

On the other hand, childless couples

only stay together if they are happy together.

Something just occurred to me right now.

Perhaps getting married very young, as in our case —

I was still in my sophomore year, and Federico was only 21.

It may have given us the possibility — in such a dramatic moment

filled with more hopes and dreams than fears —

given us the possibility to be very brave

as well as the possibility to educate ourselves, to educate ourselves together.

Naturally, this all came instinctively,

because I think there was something very strong,

authentic and honest to protect.

I quickly understood that they had quite a unique relationship.

They had a child who died right away.

And from that moment, Giulietta became Federico's daughter

and somehow his mother too, and vice versa.

When I would pick up Federico to go out,

I felt like I did in high school when I'd pick up a friend

and reassured his mom that we'd be back early.

Giulietta was more conventional and, if I may say so, bourgeois.

She liked hosting dinners.

She was an excellent cook and would invite friends and celebrities.

Federico was never really comfortable in those situations.

He'd say, "You come to dinner too, and after the last course

you say that we have to go out to inspect a shooting location."

Giulietta would see us escape

just like a mom sees a kid slip out in the evening.

She probably would prefer him to stay in,

but thinks, "Oh, well. He's with a friend. He'll come back."

So they had an uncommon relationship.

Things changed over time,

and I got to know Giulietta better.

We must ask your opinion about Giulietta Masina as —

Wait. As a director?

An opinion as a director and an opinion as a husband of course.

Giulietta is an exceptional actress.

What more can I say?

The fact that three or four years have elapsed

since I last made a film with Giulietta means nothing at all.

Giulietta represents a sort of key for me,

a small magic key

that opens an arcane world.

Actually, I'd like to make a confession. I'm still thinking of her for stories,

characters and situations which I believe could be appreciated by the public.

As a husband, everything is equally fine.

If, as a director, I plan to make more films with her,

as husband it's the same — I renew her contract on a yearly basis.

Federico Fellini has started shooting his film Ginger and Fred,

the story of two tap dancers from the 1940s

called to perform on television for a reunion show.

I have some basic training because —

The choreographer told me you're a great dancer.

I did once make a musical comedy, Ciao, Rudy, so I did learn something.

But many years have gone by since then.

But it's fine. This actually suits the story. The characters have grown old.

So it's okay if they suffer some physical vulnerabilities.

On the set, Federico was the kindest and warmest man in the world.

Everyone adored him. Because he knew everybody's name

and the names of people's children. He'd ask how they were doing in school.

He was truly everyone's friend.

There was only one exception.

He was extremely tough, strict

and occasionally even offensive towards Giulietta.

Once, after he'd acted very impatiently on the set of Ginger and Fred

and had said some very unpleasant things to her,

I went over to him and said, "Look, Federico.

It's not good to treat Giulietta like that in front of the troupe.

Giulietta is a sensitive person. Can't you be a bit nicer?"

He said, "Giulietta is like my hand.

If I want to pick up an object in my hand

and my hand keeps missing it, I get angry! I can't stand it!"

He truly felt that she was a part of him,

and this was also true to a certain extent with Marcello Mastroianni.

Giulietta Masina, in Paris to present her latest French film,

Aujourd'hui peut-être — A Day to Remember —

which immediately found major success with the public and the critics alike.

Giulietta, what does this French film represent for you?

If I'm not mistaken, this is your tenth film.

Yes, it's my tenth film and the first French one.

It was shot with live sound, in French.

I accepted to play the character because she has Italian origins.

I feel like any actor

who accepts to play a character

with enthusiasm and great faith in the success of the film.

Plus, it was also an experience

that did me a lot of good from a psychological point of view,

because I'd always been afraid to accept films

I was offered in foreign countries.

From Gelsomina to Cabiria, from Juliet to Ginger.

Do these characters have something in common?

Do their candor and sense of wonder resemble you?

Federico says so.

I would feel arrogant in saying so.

Yes, I do still have a childish side within me,

which may be slightly weaker than it was,

but still results in extraordinary sensitivity and changeability,

even within the span of a single day, in terms of moods.

Even today, it takes very little to make me happy and serene,

just as it only takes something annoying

for me to feel melancholy and gloomy.

My dad used to say that...

even as a child, my personality

was like the sky of a seaside town with wind, clouds, rain and sun.

Weather in those towns is very variable.

And, perhaps with the exception of Juliet of the Spirits, these characters

bear within them —

I think this must be why Federico conceived them.

I find they all share a form of candor toward life,

an enthusiasm,

this need I have to...

First of all, I'm an extrovert.

I love other people.

And when I see they love me too,

it fills me with infinite strength.

What was the most extraordinary meeting of your life?

Well...

I had the joy and the luck

of being introduced to such eminent figures

as Queen Elizabeth,

de Gaulle, Nasser,

Walt Disney!

Lots of important people.

But perhaps —

I will be very childish in this sort of confession.

Perhaps there was one meeting

that was almost a revelation for me

because it fulfilled all the dreams

I had as a girl, as an aspiring actress.

It happened when I went to Hollywood

to collect the Oscar for Cabiria.

I met Clark Gable!

Why? Because it was really him —

Rhett Butler from Gone with the Wind.

And Giulietta, who had dreamt of that world, was there.

And he was congratulating her.

He was probably saying some very nice things —

in English, so I couldn't understand him.

But I kept telling myself...

"Giulietta, you've made it!

Here we are. Next thing you know, he'll ask you to dance!"

And he asked me to dance.

I really shouldn't have revealed these things.

But since you asked me who Giulietta is, this is her too —

the woman who went to collect an Oscar for Cabiria

and asked Clark Gable for an autograph.

Did I disappoint you?