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I began in '68, with my father's death, to do assistant directing.
The first one who gave me credit was Franco Giraldi.
Then, I went through Bolognini,
Visconti,
Fellini,
Massaro,
Zurlini,
and then
Paul Morrissey and Andy Warhol in these two --
in these two movies, which
made me very...
made me very happy, because they were --
they were two weird movies.
I thought they were two comedy movies,
but they weren't actually very comical.
Mara Blasetti called me,
who was the production director,
and I remember that I saw,
for the first and only time,
Carlo Ponti, who was the producer,
in his studio near the Capitol,
where there was this long corridor
with a large desk at its end,
and he was sitting behind this desk.
Two desks were important,
they impressed me;
that one and that of
Goffredo Lombardo.
In my opinion, they did it on purpose to make such a long route, so
their interlocutors arrived exhausted and without any more strength.
And basically, they told me they needed an assistant director --
they said, "affirmed" and I didn't feel affirmed at all --
for this director who had made Trash, which was a great movie,
who was Paul Morrissey.
And, obviously, I said yes.
I never even asked Andy Warhol for a sketch.
Then I regretted it,
because he would have surely done it for me.
Our relationship was funny.
They lived in Frascati
and with extreme
laziness, they'd to come to the set.
Hence, there was this drama that Blasetti on one side,
and I on the other, had to turn in the finished product
in a certain number of weeks.
Not many.
I'd ask what I needed to do
to get a head start on my work,
and they were like, "Start shooting from wherever you want."
This "from wherever you want," I did not even know what it was,
because the script was very lean.
So, they'd tell me
in broad terms
the scene that had to be done that day,
and to the question, "But how do I start?"
the answer was, "Start where you find the camera."
This game
with the Roman machinists was a nightmare, because they
began to understand the situation and put the camera every morning
in a more and more complicated place.
Therefore, the opening shots of each scene
were always quite bizarre.
Then these two films ended.
It saddened me a little, because I was very proud
to have helped Paul Morrissey and Andy Warhol.
But instead, they told me that since they had not paid
I don't know what tax,
those movies did not have Italian nationality.
Therefore, Margheriti was featured as their director.
Although he is reputable as a professional,
he is of a different caliber.
I wanted to put in my Palmares that I had been
Paul Morrissey's assistant director.
Instead, it turned out I had been Margheriti's assistant director,
which is fairer for what regards my caliber.
There was this rule back then, and I believe it still works like that,
that the parts of the main actors were
the prerogative of the director,
while the assistant director had to deal with the so-called backgrounds;
that is, extras, extra movements
and all the needs.
Together with production, the assistant director was responsible
for everything, he had to make sure everything was there.
But I think the job is still like that, I don't know
what has changed.
Well, also back then, there were
mediocre assistant directors and those who were good at their job.
I remember that there was Ricci, who was a great assistant director.
The same is true for Massaro, with whom I then worked.
They were considered legendary.
Hence, when I became friends with Francesco Massaro,
it felt like
a great professional promotion.
Rinaldo Ricci as well was
a kind of myth for me.
But I wasn't that good, though.
I did great on that occasion,
but I wasn't that good as an assistant director, because
I was distracted,
I liked other aspects more,
I enjoyed myself.
So...
I was good enough to be called back by all of these directors.
My doubt, which is a certainty more than a doubt,
is that they'd called me, these great directors,
because I was my father's son, not because I was
a good assistant director.
But anyway, in the end,
it's all experience that I took home.
Warhol and Morrissey did not know anything about me,
didn't even know me.
So...
we can say that, even at the end of the film, we didn't have
this great relationship,
in the sense that I was very admired.
They were very kind, but then everything stopped
at this type of professional relationship.
I think they appreciated the work I did, because
they neither protested nor said anything,
but they were very discreet people in this respect.
I mean, it is not that they'd get excited or angry,
they were always available to find a compromise
to get out of the most intrigued situations.
I was very much understood in the role of assistant director,
so much so that, in everything I had to do, I was really
precise, punctual, present,
in that movie much more than in others.
Therefore, in the end,
there is no way to --
Also, because they led an extremely secluded life,
once we finished shooting, they'd slip into their
villa in Frascati.
I wish I could have talked to them more.
Yes, we exchanged a few words,
"How are you today?"' "What did you do yesterday?"
but not much more
in-depth than this kind of conversation.
Joe Dallesandro had the look of a person with connections on the set,
but I think that was not so much because of him, but because of
our Italian provincialism; we were servile towards
the master.
He was a handsome, big boy,
and he too had proved himself in another movie.
I remember
I thought he was good.
There, had no way of showing how good he was,
he had no way to show how good-looking he was.
But you should ask Mrs. Casini,
because she had a more continuous relationship with him
compared to me.
Then, many years have passed,
who knows how it has become now.
[musiC]
- Where is your husband?
[piano music]
- He's busy working.
It's very hard.
[piano music]
- Very intelligent man.
There we were, hideous, male chauvinist,
we were--
we were naughty.
Since Joe Dallesandro was forced by the script to do
several nude scenes,
he exhibited his masculine attributes with great...
not only with great carelessness, but also with a certain pride.
So, I remember that
we used to call him "big dick."
I'd say to the machinists, "Big dick is here!" [laughs]
This was...
obviously just to make ourselves known.
Udo Kier was truly the prototype
of being German.
I was not impressed with his friendliness.
While Joe Dallesandro was likable,
with Kier there was
a little more condescending atmosphere during the shoot.
But I remember that one of my greatest boasts,
which however has remained unknown or unrecognized,
was the discovery of
Dalila Di Lazzaro,
who until then was a model, I think.
I found those pictures and she seemed
a beautiful woman to me.
Dalila Di Lazzaro was truly -- is truly -- a woman of great beauty,
and I was very happy when
I made this proposal to the two and
Paul Morrissey said, "Sure, why not."
But even there, there wasn't a great --
I'm sure that if one
could ask him,
he wouldn't remember.
[piano music]
Yes, I don't remember any daring scenes.
No, now that you mention it,
I've seen some nude scenes,
but they didn't make a big impression on me.
Back then, I guess they were
a bit strong.
But I guess I was a wild boy, so
they didn't affect me.
[orchestral music]
The truculent scenes were
hilarious, in my opinion,
and also very pleasant to shoot,
because it was a world I wasn't used to.
Then, with the make-up artist
who made these
purulent, open,
disgusting wounds,
I remember it was funny
to shoot these scenes
of blood, stabs,
bites.
Yes, that was funny.
The memory of Carlo Rambaldi was...
I remember I went in his laboratory once
to see these mechanical bats that he had to make,
and his laboratory was magical,
because he was preparing, I don't know what other movies,
with giant puppets.
However, also on that occasion, he didn't seem...
I'm wrong to judge people based on likeability or dislike,
but that's what I do, what I've always clone, and what I'll always do
forever, and he didn't seem a very likable guy.
He was a guy who kept to himself.
I don't know if he was from Veneto.
However, he seemed Veneto to me.
Also there,
he looked like a police officer,
with all clue sympathy to police officers.
There was a pain in the ass during this shoot.
A pain in the ass, poor thing. He was
a guy who came from England, whose name I don't remember at all,
but he looked like one of these
British officers
from the war in India,
with a big mustache,
who was the 3D engineer.
And he was very boring, because, obviously,
we couldn't do panoramic shots, because
we needed some --
and both Andy Warhol and Paul Morrissey didn't care about 3D,
so it was constant bickering with this officer of the
the Royal Guard of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth,
who, instead,
wanted to condition the shooting a lot,
but I don't think he succeeded.
I have never seen these movies with 3D glasses,
because back then, you needed -- also now...
Luigi Kuveiller was a great friend, because
first of all, I had made with him,
I seem to remember, a movie with Francesco Massaro,
but I'm not sure
it was that one.
Anyway, I had already made a movie with him.
Then these old cinematographers,
I mean a little older than me,
were very nice to me because I was my father's son,
so they knew my father, and therefore, there was
a homely atmosphere.
Hence, it was beautiful.
One of the best relationships on the set was the one I had with Luigi.
[orchestral music]
Well, now if you go to Cinecitta,
you see it and it is as it was back then.
It is only 4O years,
No one has ever even given it,
as they say in Rome, a "Romanella." That is, a lick of paint.
However, it was
a place I am very attached to;
I even wrote a song called
"Cinecitta, "
because I was tied to that place, not only for them,
but also for Fellini before them.
Also with Visconti,
there was a scene
of Death in Venice
that we shot
in Cinecitta, at the studio.
I'm not sure if it was Aschenbach's studio or something.
So, it's a magical
place for me.
I also did
a lot of television in there,
but that's less magical, though.
The idea that the movies
we are talking about,
Dracula and Frankenstein, are healthy
makes me very happy, because
it means that the things that one does,
or that one contributes to --
because I certainly did not make them --
they are good for something, they remain.
Everything then comes back,
everything is chewed and spat out,
perhaps after many years, so that's fine.
One can always
think, by doing things, that maybe
in a few years someone notices them,
and if he doesn't notice them, never mind.
[orchestral music]
[orchestral music]
[orchestral music]
[orchestral music]
[orchestral music]
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