All language subtitles for The.Last.Movie.Painter.2020.ITALIAN.1080p.BluRay.x265-VXT_English

Films are my hobby,
my hobby is my profession,

my profession is my life,

my life is a film in Technicolor
and CinemaScope.

THE LAST MOVIE PAINTER

Casaro is the world's greatest
hyperrealist film poster painter.

He's almost better known
in the United States than in Italy.

It's all thanks to Casaro that
we're now able to use photography

as a means of communication in posters.

Let's say that the world
of poster design ended with Casaro.

He wasn't someone who
only worked on commission,

someone who worked for money.

The most important thing
for him was inspiration.

He was an illustrator for countless
Italian and international films.

I'll never forget him,

not only because of his
kind and gentle nature,

but also because of his
extraordinary talent.

They were perfect from
the point of view of a great painter,

but at the same time
he also added some humour,

some things that perhaps
weren't in the film.

They were so different from everything else

at the time that they generated
a lot of interest.

His work has always been very obsessive.

Everything has to be perfect — the lines,
the features, the colours, the details!

Casaro is an interesting figure.

Although he's quiet, he's full of ideas,
of a thousand different things.

He had a great reputation, so when
the distributor wanted something done well,

something worthwhile,
they would turn to Casaro.

His work conveys a sense of movement.

The images are never still but always moving.

His characters come to life.

For me, Casaro is cinema.

Most of my memories
of the first films I watched

as a spectator, are inextricably
linked to his imagery,

his artistic touch.

Obviously, in my opinion
this made and still makes him

the greatest ever illustrator
in the history of Italian cinema.

Painting has always been my passion.

I was born with a pencil in my hand.

Even as a very young child
I was always drawing animals, people

school friends.
I used to do caricatures.

I used to daub no matter what.

Then I fell in love with cinema
and its posters.

When I was 15, I worked as an apprentice
at a printing works in Treviso.

It was there I learned
the basics of advertising

and printing techniques.

It was a great school to
start and work my way up.

At the time we still worked
on stone and zinc sheets.

I was then lucky enough to get
a job at the Garibaldi cinema,

which was one of the most
important cinemas in Treviso.

I worked there in the evenings
after the printing works

and I produced these big prints for them,
announcing the next release.

I remember working on
films like “Latin Lovers”

with Lara Turner and
“Apache” with Burt Lancaster.

My friends used to turn up in the evenings
and I let them in through the back door

so that we could watch the
films together without paying.

I was just 18 years old,
back in 1953.

Clearly Rome and Cinecitta
were my dream,

and... gripped by enthusiasm,
I set off for Rome full of hope.

At the time it was a bit like
going to America,

it was an incredible journey

if you think of the distance,
with my parents crying “why Rome?”

My father worked at the Breda shipyard and
dreamed that I would become a ship designer,

because he thought that getting into
the design department was a great thing.

I was therefore a bit of a disappointment,
but he still helped me out in the end,

because for the first few months
I was supported by my family,

as you might expect,
then I paid them back in full.

Their bet paid off.

Upon arriving in Rome, I immediately visited
all the most important production companies.

And I have to say that generally speaking
they were all very helpful,

they all gave me advice.

However, the most important contact
I made was at the Studio Favalli.

This was very fortunate,
because Favalli worked for Lux Film,

so he got me to do a test and that marked
the start of my adventure in Rome.

The Studio Favalli was a source
of knowledge and also enrichment,

because Renato Fratini was also there,
another great painter in the history of film.

I was able to learn lots of secrets
linked to tempera, how to use brushes.

Obviously I was just a helper.

I didn't create posters,
but I helped out a lot

and had a great relationship with
Frattini, so I learned a great deal.

A few years later I had to leave
the studio to do military service.

Favalli wrote me a letter
of recommendation

to present myself to the major American
and Italian production companies

The letter worked well,
because during my military service

they took me on at II Vittorioso
headquarters to draw comic strips.

It wasn't what I aspired to,
but I still enjoyed it.

I did a couple of stories,
particularly a Western

in which the cinematographic
structure of the scenes is apparent.

After military service I immediately
started work for Mander Film,

a Russian company that distributed
intellectual films to art-house cinemas,

where they would
be watched by Communist circles.

I was very fortunate
in this case too,

because I was able to start actually
creating posters for some minor films.

This gave me the opportunity to express
myself, learn and work my way up.

My first major film to be screened on
the national circuit was “Two Blue Eyes.”

I'd say that for this work, I drew a lot
of inspiration from the poster designer Brini.

Strangely, I started out with a German film,
with a German actress,

and I ended with a German
film and a German wife.

My mother was a real Francophile and
always called me Rene when I was a boy,

so I signed my posters Rene.

That continued until one day a
producer called Edmondo Amati said:

“This sounds like a hairdresser's name.
You should drop it.”

So I stopped using Rene
and signed myself Casaro instead.

It was a way of making
myself sound more important,

as if I was from France,
who knows what I was thinking.

The post-war period in Italy
was also a time of great revival

in the film industry,
going beyond Neorealism.

Countless American
films were made in Italy

and Cinecitta became a sort
of branch of Hollywood.

This led to the fascinating phenomenon
of the so-called Hollywood on the Tiber.

Lots of American films
were made in Italy.

Rome itself, which was a
city still tied to its past,

still a big village at the time,
went on to become something else.

It became a metropolis with
strong links to the cinema

and to these American stars
who flew into Ciampino.

The so-called Dolce Vita
was born as portrayed by Fellini

in the film of the same name in 1960,

although it had already
existed for a few years:

Via Veneto, actresses, young girls
trying to make their way in this world,

and everyone revolving
around films in Rome.

So we had the bit players
who work at Cinecitta,

the camera operators,
many screenwriters,

actors, directors at the start
of their careers.

It was a very busy period
for poster designers too.

Alongside the rebirth and
renaissance of Italian cinema

through Fellini, Monicelli,
Lattuada, Antonioni, Visconti, etc.,

a particular film
genre with Bava,

with Sergio Leone,
started to make inroads

and really took off in the 1960s,
being exported all over the world.

The Italian film industry became the second
biggest in the world in terms of quantity.

Italy made around
380 films per year.

Rome was the greatest place to be at the time.
There was such a creative atmosphere.

It was a place of cinema within cinema,
with an air that inspired you,

because we were on the edge
of it all, or I was at least.

I was trying to live,
because I was young, 20, 22.

I remember I had a friend
who owned a body shop

and so he had access to cars.

Having a car was
important at the time,

you could use it to pick
up girls — not like today.

And so by night we went out
on the town with these cars,

we went to the famous
Meo Patacca restaurant in Rome,

where all the foreigners ate their
dinner, and we were outside

trying to pick up
girls, trying to live the good life.

My friend was Mister Dollar,
because he was a real spendthrift.

Then, clearly,
I had to open a studio.

I needed to have control over
the entire production cycle.

There were three of us.
I developed the idea and painted.

Another one did the cutting,
the copy and the layout.

The third did the photomontage for
the flongs and the lobby cards.

It was a full cycle.

Casaro entered this story at the end of

the most dynamic period film posters
had ever known.

They were everywhere,
fly posting bans did not apply.

The cinema made us dream, but it also made
us learn and taught us about the world.

We were an illiterate people,
captured by images rather than words,

and so this was one of the roles
fulfilled by the poster.

It formed part of a
collective imagination that

was being transformed and
entering the modern era.

Casaro began with an
impressionistic style,

a style that was still very sketchy,
rapid and fast due

to the way he worked at the
time and also to the fact

that poster designers had to
work to very tight deadlines.

The major production companies such as
Metro, Fox and Warner

worked with great illustrators
and quite rightly had a monopoly.

You couldn't enter it,
so I covered a less important market.

Ultimately, this proved useful
because it gave me

the opportunity to work
a lot and really practise.

I was able to study,
experiment and make mistakes.

What's more, I was not under
the control of an art director.

I was responsible for
deciding what to do.

I was free!

My breakthrough came when
Dino De Laurentiis called me up

for my first big-budget
film, “The Bible”,

produced in Italy, which was already
something extraordinary in itself,

using cutting-edge technology that was
unheard-of

at the time for a film of this kind.

It's was incredible!
There were designers, architects, everything.

De Laurentiis had his studios on Via
Pontina, where there was some wasteland.

He had the Tower of Babel
and Noah's Ark built there.

It was an amazing sight,
because Noah's ark was life-size.

It was enormous, like a house,
like Noah's Ark must have been,

and all made by hand with real wood.

The Tower of Babel was gigantic.

It's not like today when everything can
be created using digital technology.

At the time it was all realistic,
a truly monumental endeavour.

There was also a permanent
zoo for all the animals,

which John Huston would then
use in that classic scene

of loading the animals
onto the ark.

My father was someone who
really loved painting,

he asked two great Italian painters to
help with the scenery for “The Bible.”

One was Corrado Cagli and the
other was his brother-in-law Afro.

Once I went into a warehouse
and counted 1200 paintings.

And I have to say that
Renato, as a good painter

and an admirer of other
people's painting,

evidently took the two most
important concepts to heart:

Noah's Ark and the
Tower of Babel.

With these two elements,
I'll reminded the public

exactly what the Bible is about in an
exemplary, direct and concise manner.

And I have to say that the Tower of
Babel really reflects the paintings

by both Afro
and Corrado Cagli.

Like any intelligent person,
he never rejected

any advice, any suggestions
or any work by other people.

Look, these are the repertoire
photos that I guard jealously

because they are the
basis for my work.

In the world of film you have to know how
to do everything, not just people's faces,

but also animals, horses, lions.

I use this material to inspire
me and do accurate drawings.

For example... in Westerns...

In Westerns you can...

if I need to draw a hand holding a pistol,
I can see the way it is held in this photo...

just as if I need to draw a Native American
on horseback I can look at this.

If the film is set in the Middle Ages...
here I can study armour,

the horses with arm ours,
decorations, coats of arms.

Drawings have to be accurate.
You can't just invent things!

Even in horror films,

if you need a woman
screaming here is one.

This is all very important material,
fundamental for someone who has to paint,

who has to know how
to do everything!

The 1970s were the years when
his style became realistic,

which doesn't mean he abandoned the sketchy
and impressionistic style of the past,

but that there was a development
that led to greater realism

and this benefitted an entire
series of important actors

who dominated Italian
comedy during the period.

“My Friends” is very interesting
because it was one of the first examples

of a mixture of photography and the
painterly dimension in Casaro's work.

He had this extraordinary,
revolutionary idea of imagining this box

with these springs coming out of it to
simulate a joke and a Jack-in-a-box,

featuring the faces of the great cast
cut out from photographs.

This was the first example of
a very interesting experiment.

Strangely “My Friends” got off to a very
bad start and didn't bring in much money.

We were shocked because
we'd prepared it really well.

So why didn't people come to the cinema?
What did we do wrong?

We felt responsible for
the bad communication.

However, both Rizzoli and
the commercial office said:

“'No, we've done everything perfectly
and we won't change anything.”

And every evening Rizzoli

made up for the shortfall at the
cinema to keep the program me running.

I find this really amazing.
It means really believing in something,

and suddenly the public
started going to see the film,

so that in the end, “My Friends” became
one of Italy's biggest box office hits.

The film took off around
16—17 days after its release.

Today it would be
scrapped after 3 days!

Censorship at the time
was extremely severe.

Films rated as unsuitable
for anyone under 18

are now considered films suitable for
everyone.

It was incredible. We were afraid of
being put on trial, of being accused.

For example, we weren't
reported for “Oh, Serafina!”,

but we were a bit concerned, so much so
that Renato said to me: “Shall we do it?”

And I answered yes.

If a magistrate wanted
to use his imagination

he could interpret it
in a pornographic way.

It was a bit provocative,

but that didn't mean it
was a pornographic film.

That was the only risk,

a risk that in a certain sense also
meant that cinema owners might say:

"This is a film that could create
some trouble for us. Let's shelve it!”

And that could have
harmed us financially.

I always tried to create something beautiful
and stylish, never something vulgar.

But I deliberately never went
beyond it so as to avoid censorship.

One example is “ll Corpo delta Ragazza,”
which was a very successful film.

There's an erotic touch,

but it's very refined so that
it's impossible to censor it.

In fact, it's so beautiful,
so delicate that there was no problem at all.

I laughed out loud and he said:
“Why are you laughing?”

“I'm laughing because it's like you've
quenched someone's thirst with ham.

It's quite an
embarrassing situation.

How will people react
when they see it?”

And he replied: “Look, I don't think
there's anything vulgar about it,

firstly because it's all
there: Brera's novel.

Secondly: my image is like an evanescent
apparition of a piece of the girl's body,

and I place
a lot of significance on that rose.”

And so what happened?

We procured an exhibition space on a building
undergoing restoration on Via Larga in Milan,

so that when you went down this street
in Milan you saw this huge poster

with this wonderful bottom and
this rose perched on top of it.

The 1970s were golden
years for cinema,

precisely because it was experiencing
a crisis due to the advent of television

and changes among the audience,
leaving directors free to be more inventive.

The 1970s brought an explosion
of genres to the big screen,

such as had never been seen
before: horror, sci-fi,

comedy in all its forms,
erotica pioneered by the “Decameron,”

but also by Lino Banfi
and the Pierino films.

Casaro interpreted
this development

and, in doing so, lived up to the standards
of the great international graphic artists.

Anything went at the time!

And some of his images have remained
impressed upon the collective imagination.

Working with Cineriz once again,
we made “An Average Little Man.”

We'd initially thought
of casting Ugo Tognazzi,

but then we fell in love with
the idea of Alberto Sordi

because we said to ourselves
it's such a ferocious story

that if we have an actor who's not so
representative of the average Italian

it could be rejected,
but no one would reject Sordi.

And I have to say that Renato
Casaro did an extraordinary job

interpreting the two
parts of the film:

the first part, with a helpful Sordi,
a Sordi who is working as a civil servant.

Then after this he also constructed an
image of the second part of the film

in which Sordi is terrified
by what has happened to him.

So there was this face
filled with bewilderment,

meaning that the campaign could
make use of both these two images.

People must have been intrigued
to see a new Alberto Sordi,

an Alberto Sordi
they'd never seen before.

And those shadows behind him,
what are they doing? Why are they there?

The more questions you ask the public,
the more curious they become,

and the more you drive them to the cinema.
Perhaps we were lucky.

I'm very happy to have been
lucky with Renato Casaro.

An Italian actor asked
Sergio Leone why he used

American instead of Italian actors
for his westerns. He replied:

“Because the Americans' gaze
is projected into the future,

into the great expanses,
the great plains,

while Italians are short-sighted
and so I prefer Americans.”

Sergio Leone was a
very practical man.

He knew what he wanted and it
was very easy to work with him.

He gave you plenty of
inspiration, plenty of ideas.

In fact, when we produced the
advert for “My Name Is Nobody,”

Sergio Leone had the idea
of creating two posters.

The one from behind had to come out
first, with no title, nothing.

People just had to see
this reclining figure.

They could tell it was Terence Hill,
but they didn't know what film it was.

Two weeks later, that poster was
replaced by a second version,

with the actor in the same
position but seen from the front,

with all the credits,
the cast, the title, etc...

It was an exceptional advertising
campaign and it was all his idea.

We worked on those positions with
Sergio Leone in his villa in Rome,

creating these images with the photographer
so that they could be used in the posters.

Leone loved showing me the posters
that Renato Casaro made for him.

He used to point things out with his
finger: “How well he's done that pistol!

That Colt! Look at that
grip, look how he's done it!

Look at the sweat
dripping down here!

He has a fine hand!”
He boasted that he was his...

his... his...

his poster painter.

In fact, Renato always focused heavily on
the details, especially for Leone's films.

He built a great relationship with some of
these actors, particularly Terence Hill,

going on set to take photographs
to help him get a better idea

of how to depict the
character on the poster.

These study and creative
phases are fundamental,

really characterising Casaro's style.
This was not particularly common practice.

He actually chose to go on set
to help him decide what to do

and how to produce the
best possible poster.

There was an important scene they
wanted to film for the “Trinity” series,

so the producer said: “create this scene
for me and then we'll film it.”

So I created it on
the basis of the screenplay,

reading what it was supposed to be like.

I did the sketch and then
they filmed the scene.

I would have preferred to do
it after they filmed the scene,

because it was really
difficult to imagine it,

but in the end it
was a big success.

They were so different from
everything else at the time

that they generated
a lot of interest.

Back then, posters usually featured a
close-up image of the faces of actors

such as Clint Eastwood,
Franco Nero and Giuliano Gemma.

But here the main
character is sleeping

and so some said: “That's not right,
we need to see his face!”

In this case, I insisted
that we shouldn't see it.

I agreed with Renato,
because it was something brand new.

It was time for a change.

You can't see the main character
and so your curiosity is aroused:

'Who could it be?”

The fact that we only see half
a horse is also highly original.

It's great fun.

They were perfect from the point
of view of a great painter,

but at the same time...
he also added some humour,

some things that perhaps
weren't in the film.

He had captured
our personalities.

The affability he conveys
through his posters is unique,

because he was the best and, what's more,
I think he really loved creating them.

I remember Renato as
being very enthusiastic,

smiley, wanting to make
something beautiful.

He never pulled back.

It was a very fortunate union of people
who wanted to do things really well.

The producer, Alabiso, said to me:

“I'll only need a poster
by Casaro for the next film!

I'll take it all over Europe and sell
the film before I've even made it.”

If it hadn't been for Casaro we might
not have enjoyed such great success.

We're still cataloguing
so much material.

After our most recent moves we found
some big boxes with more sketches inside.

I don't know whether
it's a virtue or a defect,

but I've always kept my sketches.

It was a hang-up of mine.

I don't know why, but instead of
throwing them away I always kept them.

I never imagined they
might be important,

but luckily we now have all
this material available.

At the moment I'm trying to
sort out this huge archive.

I need to go through it and find what I need
for the exhibition or book we're planning.

For example, this is “Cotton Club.”
It's a real classic.

You can see that I created this
detail of the sub-machine gun

where its shadow
becomes a trumpet,

because this is a film about
music and gangsters. Ah, look...

“Quincy Jones,” a film about Quincy Jones.
This sketch was designed in the 1980s.

It's very modern, with a very effective
look that would be pure graphics today.

This is a classic.

The first Rambo, no Rambo II.

“Total recall”.

“Total recall” with
Schwarzenegger.

I worked on lots of films
starring Schwarzenegger.

This one was the final version.

“Terminator”.

This hole bursting through the steel
in the final version worked really well

because you can see how he has
broken through a very thick wall.

This conveys his strength,
his superhuman strength.

I've got two sketches for
“The Name of the Rose.”

This must have created a big dilemma
for whoever had to pick the image.

Another one was chosen in the end,
but this one would have worked really well.

This arch shape,
seen from below,

which highlights these characters,
each one with his own story and mysteries.

I think this black void here...

is truly exceptional.

But I created a dilemma for
the person who had to choose.

I did this one for America,
and then it was imported to Italy too.

“The Blue Angel.”
I did this one for France.

Ah! Here we have “Cliffhanger.”
I did various sketches for this.

They're not all here because everything's
all mixed up and there are lots of them.

I'm still cataloguing them.
There are three versions.

I left this one unfinished because
I wasn't very happy with it.

The dynamics weren't what I wanted,
the colours were a bit dull.

In short, it didn't really inspire me,
so I stopped working on it.

This is another more concise
and more detailed version.

Here we have the steel wire,
which shows how much

strength must have been needed to hold on.

Here is the hand... It might not be very
descriptive, but it's a very effective image.

Ah, here! “Sparrow.”
This also brings back memories,

reminding me of relationships
that could be difficult at time.

It's interesting to remember that when
“TheHimmel über der Wüste” came out,

the image was also a big success.

It was following on from that poster,
which caused such a sensation,

that Zeffirelli called me and said:

“Listen,
I want you to do me something

a bit like you did for “
TheHimmel Uber der Wüste"

And I remember that my wife and
I went to his home on Via Appia

to see what had been filmed.

I couldn't find an element
that I could tie in.

I thought "I can't do this,
I didn't want to do it."

It would have been disloyal
to “TheHimmel über der Wüste”

and also disloyal to myself,
because I never repeated myself.

I tried to create
something slightly similar,

but I couldn't do it and I refused.
But one should!

I was amazed that a great director like
Zeffirelli wanted such a compromise.

This is a sketch that means a lot
to me because I did it in America.

I was in Los Angeles working on
the advert for the American market.

Here's “The Girl from Trieste.”

I've got an interesting
story to tell about this.

I lent my hands
to draw this because...

Ben Gazzarra played
a comic strip artist

but he couldn't draw
the comic strip himself,

he couldn't do the drawing,
so I lent him a hand on the set.

This is a film by Lelouch which
was called “Les uns et les autres,”

but this title didn't work
for the Italian market

and so De Micheli and I decided I should
produce an almost definitive sketch

with the title “Bolero.”

And when Lelouch saw the
definitive sketch with the title,

he was convinced and said:
“It's great. Let's go with this.”

"Vacanze di Na tale.”
This is a real classic!

It was such a good idea
that it became a cult image

and comedies have continued
to look back to it.

In fact, the latest film of this kind,
“Super Vacanze di Na tale,”

drew lots of inspiration from it.

I'd even say it's identical,
but this makes me proud in a way.

Cross, but proud!

This was a truly wonderful
period when we were really free

to work and create...
Our creativity was spontaneous.

We were able to really
enjoy working and creating.

I don't know whether artists today
have the freedom that we had.

I don't think so.

I have to say that Dino De Laurentiis
was someone who fascinated me

and influenced me
more than anyone else.

He particularly liked
working with me.

After he moved from Rome
to London and New York,

he always called
me to make posters,

because he produced films
for American companies too.

If it hadn't been for
my family ties in Italy,

I would have moved
to Los Angeles.

When Dino moved to America,

he always sought to surround
himself with Italians

who not only guaranteed
a professional result,

but also meant he had people nearby
whom he could discuss things with.

One of these Italians whom Dino
really esteemed was Renato Casaro.

Dino De Laurentiis was filming at
the famous Pinewood Studios in London

and he called me up to ask me to do
some sketches for “Flash Gordon.”

Once again there were other production
and distribution requirements

and they wanted British poster designers,

but he said I had to design
the poster for “Flash Gordon” too.

And when I went to London,
his driver here in Rome

brought me a bag full of
yellow and red peppers,

saying “These are for Dino. Take them to
him because he loves grilled peppers.”

There were no customs
checks at the time,

you could take in anything, so I got there
with these peppers and he was so pleased!

This shows just how Italian he was.
He was great. Great!

I did the whole “Conan” series.

I knew the character came from the
world of comic books, but nothing more.

In order to make the poster
for the first “Conan” film

I had to join Dino De Laurentiis
and his daughter Raffaella

on set, because he wanted to show me the
set and get me to talk with the director.

I remember that on-board the domestic
flight from Barcelona to Almeria

I was really amazed by
the local people.

They all looked like Apaches...
They had marked faces, like Mexicans.

It was like being in America.

Anyway, I met Schwarzenegger
as soon as I arrived on set.

He wasn't anybody at the time.
Just a Mr Muscle, a gym addict.

Back in my studio I created some poses for
Conan using models and studying their anatomy.

I drew this Conan whose face
didn't look like him at all,

focusing more on the expression of
the comic character than the actor,

so that the face was different.

However, De Laurentiis said to me:
“Look! I want to make him famous.”

And so I changed the face to
make it look like Schwarzenegger.

Then I went on to do
“Conan the Destroyer”

and “Red Sonja,”
which was a bit like “Conan.”

Posters for films such as “Maciste,”
“Hercules” and “The Evil Dead”

took me around three days,
four at most,

when there was a
particular face involved.

Meanwhile, more important films took five
or six days after I'd come up with the idea.

Here's what used to happen:
I'd watch the film,

then talk to the
director if possible,

then look at around
twenty stills,

I'd do a dozen or so sketches,

then I'd pick two or three and
present them to the client.

Lastly, I'd create the final version.
This was common practice.

I always tried to push
the best ideas through

by writing one,
two and three on my proposals.

Number one was always my favourite and
that influenced the client to some extent.

I always aimed for
the best result.

I always made sure that people liked me.
This was important.

I was always professional,
I did my best, I met deadlines,

because as you know the deadlines in the
world of cinema are always very tight.

But I always met them,
working at night or even on Christmas Day.

If there's an emergency,
you have to go! Because...

If you work for a client who
gives you a package of films,

with one really important film
and two less important films,

you still have to do all of them.
You can't just say:

“No, I'm not doing this one
because it's a B movie.”

That's simply not
professional.

I have to say we had really
long meetings with Renato

and they were always
very enjoyable,

because he always
wanted to amaze us,

he always said:
“What do you think of this?

Do you like it?”
And you couldn't contradict him.

You always had to say yes.
Then, as you discussed it,

you guided him towards what would work
best in terms of bringing in the audience.

In the case of minor films
I tried to draw out...

something interesting to make it
more visually appealing...

I sometimes told a few
lies in these posters,

in the sense that I depicted
something that wasn't in the film,

but which grabbed the
public's attention.

In the case of more important
films, big-budget movies,

it was more important to
study things carefully.

You couldn't make mistakes
or bluff your way through.

A mistake on an important
film could make it a flop.

Let's be clear about it.
In terms of communication,

the painter could have an idea
of what to paint

in order to get the message across
to the public,

but they also had to think
like a graphic designer,

because at a certain point the poster

also had to include graphics to comply
with the contract.

There were contractual obligations to
directors, actors, lots of actors.

Perhaps the producers hadn't been
very good at drawing up the contracts

and so maybe a certain name
couldn't feature above the title

but had to be below it or the
poster had to have the words

“and featuring” and perhaps
there were three of these.

And where do we put them?
How do we include them?

We already have the stars!

There are always
compromises to be made.

In fact, real skill involves
overcoming these difficulties,

using subterfuge where possible and
saying this can or can't be done.

If there are ten horses in the film,
you have to show fifty or one hundred,

perhaps with some dust!

I remember one client who said:
“I'm paying you for horses, not dust!”

Because I'd tried to add dust
to create a sense of movement.

I did the worldwide advertising launch
for “Once Upon a Time in America.”

I produced various sketches
because it was an important job.

I had to find something that would sum
up a spectacular and very long film,

I think it was 4 hours long — packed with
different episodes and a complex story.

Then there were the big international
distributors and an American producer,

so there were all sorts of things to
resolve and different needs to be met.

I finally picked this idea

and presented it to the meeting
of distributors in Rome.

Sergio Leone loved it,
but the German distributor said:

“Yes, it's great,
but it needs a woman!”

Sergio Leone said:
“Well, behind every man

in a dinner jacket there's always
a great woman!”

There was nothing he
could say after that.

However, I went on to make a more
commercial version for the German.

Unfortunately the printed
poster didn't come out in Italy.

They just used some photos...
which were beautiful to look at,

but nothing compared to the emotion
generated by Renato Casaro's design.

I loved to be free.

With the big American or Italian
film studios, such as Titanus,

you always had to go through a
second or third person,

so I felt a bit uncomfortable,

because I was used to doing everything:
art director, creative, I did it all...

Casaro is an artist, and sometimes he became
fixated on things I didn't agree with.

We sometimes had heated discussions
and I felt guilty about it...

There should be disagreements between
people who mutually respect one another,

because it is through disagreement
that you reach perfection.

If two people have a different concept,
they can talk about it and discuss it,

getting rid of anything superfluous
and achieving the ideal result.

I've also had some bad periods in my life
that had a negative effect on my work.

In short, I certainly had my problems!
We were a team of two.

We were great friends and we were also
tied by this passion for our work.

He always sang my praises and
defended me against all criticism.

Osvaldo was good!

I'd even say that he was responsible for
my leap forward in professional quality.

Almost always, the final result was
not the work of Osvaldo De Michel,

but the work of Renato Casaro.

And if there is also part of
Osvaldo De Micheli in Renato Casaro,

I have to thank Renato Casaro,
and not vice versa.

I am so pleased that he acknowledged
the importance of our teamwork.

We were a great team.

There aren't teams
like that anymore!

He moved to Germany in the 1980s and
began working on international projects.

The realism he had developed in
the 1970s became hyperrealism.

He carried on using acrylics and
tempera to paint his figures,

but he also started using an
airbrush to tone down the contrasts,

accentuate the
chiaroscuro effect,

soften the background and
create better perspective.

His new style brought him to
the attention of major directors

and he truly became an
international poster designer.

The 1980s were the years of the annual
comedies by the Vanzina brothers,

“Time for Loving,”
“Vacanze di Na tale,” etc.

They were the years of Verdone,
his continuation of Italian-style comedy,

and they were also the
years of Celentano.

Casaro created some beautiful posters
for all three of these genres.

The idea for this poster came to me
when I was driving from Treviso to Rome.

I think I was probably
somewhere in Tuscany

when I saw this turbulent sky,
with these clouds rushing together,

and I said to myself:
“This could be the sky for “Joan Lui.”"

I can remember something else too.
Since Celentano was also the film director,

he was very slow, he was making the Cecchi
Gori production team lose a lot of money.

When I visited the set
to show him the sketches,

and the production director
said: “Stop, don't move.

Don't distract him or he'll never finish
the scene. Leave him alone please!”

He was very positive. He had an anarchy
about him that was over the top at times,

but during that period
he was a huge star.

His films such as “Joan Lui”
were really unusual.

His inner madness
was well expressed,

because he expressed it with a
creative form all of his own.

It was always interesting.

He was a highly creative man,
a man who wanted to break the mould.

Ultimately you have to wait
and see the end result.

Fortunately his films were successful
and that was the key to everything.

Renato Casaro's creativity was
a perfect match for Celentano

and the posters
were always great.

I once said to Casaro: “Do you know what?
We could make a comic strip of the film.

The sketch comes out so well,

just think what it would be like if we
made a comic strip out of it.”

“Time for Loving” was complex,
because although Dean Film respected us

due to the huge success of our
previous film “I Fichissimi,”

they weren't really convinced. They wanted
a more vulgar comedy, something different.

And most of all they...
they didn't like our cast.

The cast featured
Jerry Cala once again,

and none of the
actors were big names.

There was Marina Suma,
who'd just made a small film,

and there were some young
actors on their very first film.

What's more, there were two actors the
production team really didn't want:

Christian De Sica
and Virna Lisi.

They said that Christian De Sica
would never be a comedy actor,

that he just didn't
work on Italian screens.

It's easy to laugh
about it today,

but at the time Christian hadn't
taken off as a comedy actor.

It was a bit of luck for our film and
it also relaunched Virna's career.

That year she went on to win the David
di Donatello and the Nastro D'Argento

and the 2nd phase of her career
took off thanks to this film.

Because the producers were
sceptical about the cast,

they didn't want to feature
the actors' faces on the poster

because they deemed
them to be too weak.

That was actually a bit of luck.

Casaro understood the
situation perfectly

and showed us exactly what we
had imagined without knowing it,

a truly spectacular poster.

It was the perfect match with what we
wanted the film to be and what we had done.

When a poster tells the truth,

the public who see it in the streets,
understand that it's sincere and genuine.

Just as it marked the start of an
astounding second career for Virna Lisi,

so it was the start of a very
long and important career for us.

And this is partly
due to that poster.

Casaro had a wonderful
idea for “Acqua e Sapone.”

He captured the fairy-tale tone perfectly.
Because “Acqua e Sapone” is a fairy tale.

There I am with a straw, with soap bubbles,
and there she is inside a soap bubble.

It was like a fairy-tale dream.

It was a delicate poster,
typical of the 1980s,

with that rather carefree
atmosphere that really reflects

the colours, the atmosphere,
the delicacy and the lightness of the time.

And then what happened?
Well, that the industry, after some time...

Well, either because
of the film's success

or because they were really impressed
by the way

the film title was written
on the poster...

- the film did very well -

a chain of “Acqua e Sapone” shops sprang
up featuring the same identical graphics.

No one ever said anything. We saw it as
advertising, as a tribute to the film.

But it was imitated!

Casaro was always very sophisticated,
and where did he express this?

Not so much in comedies.
Mine were very simple comedies.

You have to see him
in art-house films.

That's where the artist's
creativity really takes off!

"TheHimmel Gber der Wiiste”
was particularly difficult.

I did a lot of sketches, because it
contained a lot of psychological elements.

It was a complex story.

Finally I came up with this
idea that isn't in the film.

It's not an image from the film,
it's all symbolic.

A mental and physical embrace,
a sense of belonging.

You could find all sorts
of emotions in it...

I had a few problems
with this job too,

because the contract stated I had to include
the two main characters in the poster.

Bertolucci was torn for a while,

but we were firmly convinced
that we wanted to use this idea

that went on to become a symbol
of how advertising should be done.

Bertolucci was a man with a strong
personality and great talent.

He contributed to the creation of the poster,
it's not like we pushed him aside!

It's an absolute masterpiece,

so much so that Bertolucci
was moved when he saw it.

He didn't say: “I like it, I don't like it,
let's change this.” He was moved!

His film went down in history
thanks to that poster by Casaro!

Just remove the title and
it's an amazing painting.

But a masterpiece is called so
because it only happens once!

Working with major directors

has always been stimulating
because they dissect advertising

down to the very smallest detail.

They are intelligent people
who know what they want.

They give you a lot of ideas, a lot of input,
to the point that it becomes a challenge:

“Look! You gotta do it for me.”

And so you put everything
you have into it!

“The Last Emperor” was certainly
not a walk in the park,

given its political
subject matter.

The American producer had already
created an ad using an idea

that recalled the Chinese flag.

I've never liked politics!
It never leads to success.

Instead, I focused entirely on the
atmosphere and in the end I won!

I would describe this image with
its shadow as smelling of incense.

I think the fact that Casaro
wanted to attribute

such importance to this strip
of light that

envelops the child, who actually has someone
kneeling before him to indicate his power,

grasps the very essence
of the character

and is also one of the finest
cinematographic expressions

of Storaro's use of light.

Let's try and choose the
international ones for the exhibition.

“Absolute Beginners” can go in.

There's this interesting neon effect
and it's different from the others.

And here's “Amadeus.”
We have to include that!

It's one of the only ones where
I used a green background!

Let's take this one.
Mickey Rourke, “Angel Heart.”

“Barfly"!

Mickey Rourke's a handsome man!
This one's great. Keep going!

“The Name of the Rose”

One of the best ones, isn't it?
Do you like it?

Let's take this one too! Lili Marleen,
Fassbinder, Giannini and Schygulla!

But you're a bit jealous of
Schygulla, aren't you?

Nothing ever happened!

This one's fun.

Do you remember the title? I've forgotten!
“High Crusade”!

“High Crusade”.
That's great!

Let's move on.

In the early 1980s
I moved to Munich,

because the market seemed
to be drying up in Italy

and the prices
were no longer appealing.

They hadn't gone down,
but I felt my work was worth more.

If Dino De Laurentiis
asked me for a work

that would then be used
all over the world,

well “you have to pay me royalties.”

Unfortunately they didn't
consider these aspects in Italy.

I'm telling you about De Laurentiis,
but it was the same for many others.

However, this wasn't the
main reason. Most of all...

I wanted to live near the wonderful Gabriella,
who went on to become my wife.

I also wanted to get away from certain
environments, certain situations,

because I'd had a few
problems, too.

I went to Germany to get away from
all of this and live with her.

Gabriella was in the business.
She worked for a major German distributor

who bought American films,
so she really helped me

make contact with the major
production companies.

This was fundamental.

It was an encounter between two
different yet fully merged elements.

She advises me, gives me
ideas, but above all

when I do something,
I always do it with her in mind,

because she's the first one to give
me an opinion, who has to tell me:

“You've done a great job.”

In banal terms,
I could say she's my muse,

but there's more
to it than that.

She helps me in so many ways,
she looks after the entire archive,

she was the first to salvage many
of the originals lying around,

she looks after client relations

and, above all, given that computers
really aren't my strong point,

she does all the computer work
and this is really essential.

She prefers to stay in the background,
she doesn't want to be seen.

I've never really understood this
concept, but I think I understand

that she holds back
to push me forward.

Let's say you're the idol

and I work behind the scenes,
but I don't want to be seen.

I remember seeing this film when
I was still practically a child.

I was drawn to it by this poster
with this huge, three-storey house

shown against the light. You could see that
there was a totally evil presence within.

The incredible thing was that when I
went to see this film, this house,

which is the one from
Hitchcock's “Psycho,”

was actually a
bungalow in a wood,

and there was
absolutely no link.

This illustrates the total freedom
he sometimes

had when working on projects of this kind,

even changing the title,

because it was originally called
“The Evil Dead.”

At this point it's clear that
to give a meaning to the title

they invented a kind of franchise that
obviously led to other spin-offs in Italy,

because the first two films are by Sam Raimi,
then there's the 3rd and 4th by Umberto Lenzi,

and then other Italian directors who
obviously followed in their footsteps.

Lastly, we have the third part
of the international trilogy,

but in Italy it's called
“The Army of Darkness,”

which is another film.

They created a big mess in this
case, but it's quite funny.

Then there was
a whole series of “Houses”,

which obviously all
had a similar logo and title

to try and cash in on the first.

In marketing terms,
these were all very interesting.

“Opera” is amazing!

We have these eyes
held open by big pins

and the theatre that looks like
a face, a diabolical mask,

with the boxes arranged
in a satanic laugh.

I think it's one of
his masterpieces.

This poster had to feature him too,
as it was a story about two people.

Unfortunately it ruined the
centrality of the design for me,

so I preferred to
leave the typewriter,

which is the subject of the film,
and I focused heavily on her,

because she won
the Oscar for this film.

I tried to draw out that
diabolical side of her,

that introverted, evil side,

and I also wanted to
highlight the crucifix,

because this contrasted hugely
with such a diabolical personality.

Then I obviously had to
include the house underneath,

surrounded by the silent woods,
with just the bare hint of a window

where we can glimpse him
working at his typewriter.

For me it began as craft,

but it went on to become art,
because it incorporates so many prerogatives.

I would describe
it as popular art,

because I see how much interest there
is in it primarily among young people.

This means that
it's stimulating.

If there's a critic
who says a poster

(and I don't mean all posters, because
obviously some of them won't be good)

Is not a work of art,
then he's an idiot.

Peace be with him
and his idiocy.

Art is a very over-used word.

If you visit art galleries today,
you often feel like being sick.

Is that art?

If you compare Casaro
to Leonardo da Vinci,

then obviously you'd say the
real artist is Leonardo da Vinci.

But if you make a comparison between
Casaro and the artists of today,

even the very famous ones,

then Casaro is
the better artist.

The strictly commercial link takes
nothing away from the artistic worth.

Quite the contrary! It's a positive thing,
because you have to be good enough

to convince me to
go to the cinema,

you have to live up to the standards
of Spielberg, Bertolucci, Kevin Costner.

It's anything but
a negative aspect!

Guttuso is a great painter,

but when the Taviani brothers asked him to
produce a poster for “Kaos”, he failed.

He produced a beautiful painting,
which represents Sicily,

but it doesn't promote the film.

“Dances With Wolves”
is an incredible film!

I still love it today because it's
one of the best films I've ever seen.

Once again,
I had to completely sum up

an epic and complex tale
of the American West.

I produced two versions.
A classic one for the world market

with Costner and the
Native American chief,

and one with Costner painting
a white and red sign on his face,

indicating the change from a Yankee
culture to a Native American culture

and this sign
encapsulates the whole story.

Underneath I summed up the entire
film in a stylised fashion.

I think I did a pretty good job.

In fact, immediately afterwards,

Juventus launched its
season ticket campaign

featuring a man painting black
and white stripes on his face.

Like in “Dances With Wolves”.
I tried to sue

because I felt this was
inspired by my poster.

However, they took it down
and I never saw it again!

Unlike the Italian designers who usually
produced the Italian version of the poster,

Casaro actually sometimes managed to
impose his on an international level,

while on other occasions
he made versions

for other European countries,
such as Germany and the UK.

This was something unique to him,
because I can't think of any other designers

who had a comparable
professional artistic career.

Casaro manages to give the
genre a figurative dignity,

an imagery that surpasses
that of the film.

In many cases, Casaro's posters are much
better than the films they have to advertise.

An Italian director told me:

“I went to watch the film
because I'd seen the poster”.

It's a real satisfaction to hear
something like this from a director!

The French went mad for “Nikita”

and changed their
poster to Casaro's,

taking their hats off...
to the great master.

We lived up to the
abilities of the director,

and in this case, as it was an
Italian-French co-production,

we brought added value,

demonstrating that the relationship
between Italy and France

also worked from an
artistic point of view.

He advertised Besson's film without
showing Anne Parrillaud's face,

despite the fact she was a famous
and very attractive actress,

so it could have been well worth
putting her face on the poster.

But no, he chose to show
her bent forward slightly,

as if weighed down by what she does,
and we don't know what she'll do next.

She intrigues the spectator.

I have to say that, in my opinion,
this poster for “Nikita” is...

one of the greatest film posters
ever made anywhere in the world.

I stopped working when
the phone stopped ringing.

Clients now preferred to use CG
and Photoshop for their advertising.

In short, everything pictorial
had become old-fashioned

and so I had to choose whether to go
down this new path that was in demand

or say enough is enough.
I opted for the latter,

because technology was
never my strong point.

And so I said that's it,
I had also reached a certain age.

A boxer stops when he's world
champion, not when he's past it!

The last poster I made was for
“Asterix and Obelix” in 1999.

It was liberating, but difficult too in
the sense that I was at such a good stage

that I was sorry to lose this outlet
for my creativity. However...

the posters I've seen since, produced by
young graphic designers using Photoshop,

have lost their creativity.

A great deal has been lost along
the way, and so I have no regrets.

The world of poster
design ended with Casaro.

Posters are still made today,

but with a few rare exceptions
I affectionately refer to them all

as toothpaste ads,
because they're all the same.

Using computers, hese huge faces

of attractive famous
actors and actresses,

who are smiling,
with these white rows of teeth.

They're all the same,
they don't capture your attention.

Unfortunately time is always pressing.
Every so often you see a good one,

but generally
they're not so great.

You can see that posters aren't
really important anymore,

so they just dash them off.

Posters used to be
an essential element.

In Casaro's day, films were
screened for months at a time

and there were even cinemas
that only showed one film.

That's no longer the case, because
obviously the production of the material

is much more involved than it used to be.
This also means

that we have to develop
many more things.

The general approach is
usually much more complex,

but this is also because film watching
and promotion dynamics have changed.

Today, the film's life span is established
during the first weekend of screening.

However, we've seen an
inversion in this trend lately.

For example, there's been a
return to using illustration

or at least some more experimental
and less conventional images.

The ones for American
films are more interesting.

They're better made,
with more attention to detail.

The Italian ones are more...

They're all for Italian
comedies, so...

As the quality of films declines,
so does the quality of the posters.

Photographic posters can of
course be made for certain films.

However, completing discarding painting
is a huge mistake in my opinion.

Only painting...
implies a truly great film,

which we are seeing less
and less of these days.

On the one hand I'm sad and
on the other I'm pleased.

Because the rebirth of Italian cinema
came about in the 1960s and '70s.

Fellini's role in the
history of Italian culture,

and I'd also say in the history
of international culture,

is completely unique because it was a
society that produced this type of culture.

There was an entire population actively
involved in producing the imagery

that Casaro interpreted so well.

The images of those years,
the pictures we carry in our heads,

are not only tied to our
individual experiences.

Today we no longer have the
cinema, we no longer have posters,

but we have other forms: comics for example,
which are still very creative in Italy today.

Art has been displaced.

Having lived in Rome, Germany,

and Spain and having travel led all over the
world, I've now come back to Treviso.

My hometown.

In all honesty I have to say that
I feel a bit out of place.

Coming back, after a 65-year absence,
where no one knows you, is not easy.

Even Gabriella, who's more sociable
than myself, struggles to socialise here.

It's complicated. We'll see...

The people of Veneto, and particularly
of Treviso, are very reserved...

But we live quietly, we're happy
enough, or I am at least.

We've been here for
three years now.

We have our garden,
we keep bees,

we have a lovely home,
and luckily I'm still painting in my studio,

where I love to breathe in
the smell of the paints and brushes.

Over the last few years, I've also
created this series of painted movies,

producing posters for great films
I would have loved to work on

but wasn't able to at the time,
either because I was too young

or not up to it, or because I
didn't have the necessary experience.

These are my dream
films as a cinema lover,

so I thought I would
rework them in my own way.

Then I also began to draw inspiration
from Renaissance classics.

For example,
I redid “100 Years of Film,”

which is a reworking of
the “School of Athens”.

I'm now finishing my reworking
of the “Last Judgement”.

It's been a real undertaking!
It's full of characters.

I wanted to incorporate the entire history
of American and Italian cinema in it.

It's practically a tribute
to the cinema of all time.

For me, posters are always
the most important document,

the film's identity card.

Without the poster the
film won't be remembered,

because the web dissolves.

Nothing you see on the web will remain
forever, but the poster will.

If you have to stage an exhibition
you do it with posters, not the web.

I have no regrets, and this is important.
Perhaps I could have been a director.

I thought about it when I was
young, but it was just a vague idea.

Ultimately I preferred to focus entirely
on the art of producing film adverts.

Work is still my passion today,

even if it's not really
for commercial purposes.

However, people still seek
me out to do some work.

If I like the job and it
appeals to me, then I'll do it.

For example, I recently made
a poster that will be used

in Tarantino's latest film
“Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.”

In this case too,
it involved something a bit unusual.

Tarantino called me because he wanted me to
recreate a poster I'd made in the 1970s.

The film was called “Return of Halleluja,”
so it was probably a B movie,

but Tarantino really liked
the genre, the atmosphere,

and the painting
style of the period.

I practically reproduced the same
poster, but with Di Caprio's face

and he'll definitely be using it
for a scene in the film.

Then there's also a film by Verdone,
which will be coming out at Christmas.

This will be another
big challenge for me,

because I'll be attempting
to do something different,

perhaps a combination
of digital and painting,

which can be done!

The important thing is to have a
subject that you can work with.

It's a challenge
I'd accept very willingly!