Original subtitles

SECRET DIARY OF AMARCORD

WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY FELLINI'S COLLABORATORS

Do you have fog in China?

Yes, we have fog, snow, rain. Everything!

Is it yellow, or is it gray like it is here?

Gray! Everything's similar to here.

I'm not sure you're being truthful.

Who knows what kind of stuff happens in China?

Maybe you don't want to tell me.

I tell everything. You ask, I tell!

For example...

are Chinese children born after nine months or earlier?

- Nine months! - Take it easy.

Think carefully before you answer.

I read in a book that you Chinese are so small because you are born early.

Is it true?

It's wrong! The book is wrong!

No, it's not wrong.

It's a book that describes all the differences between you and us.

- For example, straight and curly hair. - That's true!

You have almond-shaped eyes, while we don't.

- Isn't it true? - It's obvious.

Your skin is yellow, like shit. Ours is white.

True!

You have no belly button, while we have one.

We have a belly button too!

- That's not true! - Yes it is!

- You're a liar! - No, we have a belly button!

- Did you hear that? He says he has it! - No, he doesn't.

- It's true! - I'm coming to check it out.

- Show me! Take this stuff off! - We all have one!

We're not going to be fooled by someone like you! Right, guys?

- That's it. - What are you doing?

- No, not the trousers! - No? Then he hasn't got one!

- I do! - Show me, if you do!

- No! Not here — - Here we go, show me. Come on!

Come on, show me there's nothing here.

He has one! I have to admit it.

Okay, I get it. This scene isn't in the film. I cut it.

What do you want to do with it? Why did you retrieve it from the bin?

That's it. We were planning on using the deleted scenes of the film,

and even duplicates and discarded takes from the editing bin,

plus the journalistic material shot by Peppino Rotunno during production,

to create a sort of secret diary, a kind of conversation.

What is it you're aiming to narrate? What's the point of view?

The point of view of your collaborators, like your first assistant, Maurizio,

the editing secretary, Norma. Gerard.

- It looks like the usual stuff to me. - Not exactly.

We chose your relationship with actors as our main theme. That hasn't been done.

The way you abuse actors, your relationship with them when shooting.

Plus the relationship with their parents, spouses, relatives, the police.

Maurizio had a lovely idea. He'd like to start with the offices.

Yes, I thought I'd reproduce the exaggerated, exasperated atmosphere —

Who would be making this stuff?

I don't know. Maurizio will shoot. I've made a schedule.

- The two of you? - Yes.

Yes.

Cinzia, baby, you're two meters tall!

Are you still here? Good morning, man.

Later.

Yes, wait five minutes.

- I'll wait over there. - Please, I've been waiting for two hours.

So what? Liliana, I want to see Nandino Orfei.

Call the circus back. It's the fifth time I've told you!

- Have you found the dwarf? - I don't know.

- You don't know? - I brought the singer Masella. Say hello.

- Good morning, dottore. - The dottore here wanted to see you again.

Are you an actress, ma'am? Have you ever worked in cinema?

No, I worked in television, in Bari.

- Excuse me, Maurizio. - Hello?

- Yes, one second. Norma? - Yes?

- It's the agent of that English singer! - Masella has a bachelor party at 2:00.

What was your role in TV?

- His train leaves at 11:00 a.m. - But I'm talking to the lady here!

I don't know. I worked on human expressions.

They would say, "Ms. Martina."

That was my maiden name. My married name is Gambetta.

They would say, "Happy. Worried."

I can't remember what else they used to say. Ah, yes!

This expression, for example, is atrocious pain.

- Or — - Why do you bring me these people?

I didn't bring her here. I'm with Masella, who has to leave!

Dottore, I have a show in Naples at 2:00 p.m.

I can pull off any expression needed in art!

- Maurizio? - Yes, dottor Fellini?

- What about that Poiletto? - Poiletti, yes.

- Yes, that guy. Did you find him? - He's dead.

- He's dead? - Yes, I spoke to his widow. He's dead.

I can't believe it! One guy's dead, one's in jail,

one's changed gender, one's in Chile!

I want to see Poiletto!

Find him! That's your job!

Okay.

Another thing, dottore.

I can knit.

Scarves, vests, pullovers.

I can make some for you and your wife.

- Come here, Gerard! - Who is it?

I think it's the embassy. About that French actor.

...by 15%...

Norma, I can't hear a thing!

I need you when I sleep I wake and you're not there

Norma! Shut up in there!

What's going on in here?

This is an office! Get out!

Do I have to tell it to you again? Don't let anyone in here!

...journalist, you're a real smoocher too, you know?

- Good morning, what's the fee? - For what?

- I was asking what the fee is. - Are you asking if we'll pay you?

- No, if I owe you anything. - What? If you have to pay us?

Yes, it wouldn't be the first time.

Once, I left a photograph and then received a bill for 5,000 lire.

Good morning.

Good morning, ma'am. Are you an actress?

No, I'm not.

- Were you invited here? - No, I wasn't.

- I wasn't invited. - No?

Would you like to play a part in the film? Is that what you want?

No, I don't want to do anything regarding the film.

So what are you doing here?

I'd like to finally see the monster!

What monster?

Mr. Fellini!

One second.

Well?

- There are three types of drunkards. - Really?

The drunk, the very drunk and the incredibly drunk!

- He's moved. Where can I look? - Try again! Find him!

- There's a substantial difference. - The pics of the Viterbo pharmacist?

- He wants to see them. They're not here! - Let me show you.

- What's that? - The drunk.

Next is the very drunk.

What are you doing? What's that?

The very drunk.

And finally, there's the guy who devastates himself.

- Good morning, dottore. - Who are you?

- I am easily moved, dottore. - What?

Well done. How does it come so easy?

- Have you always been moved easily? - It happens immediately.

It's a vocation, then.

You're really good.

However, there's nothing for you in this film. Maybe another time. Bye.

Our offices aren't always this chaotic.

- There are also calm, peaceful times. - Maurizio?

Here I come, dottor Fellini!

Now, for example, while we check the scene budget,

Gerard is speaking to a structuralist critic from Positif.

- Meanwhile I — - Maurizio!

Yes?

He's called me 30 times!

Where were you, Maurizio?

Sit here.

I was drawing Volpina.

She'll have a green dress with black spots

so she'll look like a lizard.

But she's a cat. You know what I mean?

There you go. That's what I want.

A cat. With a wild, stray side to her.

An animal that's always ready to strike, yet always escaping.

- What's up? - That German journalist is here.

- Tonino Guerra should be translating. - He's not here yet.

I was telling Maurizio. There's no use in you searching,

if you don't really know what I want, how the characters are.

What are you looking for?

Volpina must be a cat. I want a cat!

Yes, Liliana. We need to think about cats.

Of course, a cat.

That's it.

As you heard, Fellini was imperative. Volpina must be a cat.

For days, famous and unknown actresses surrendered to his requests.

They agreed to have their faces painted white.

To wear false glass eyes.

To bear horrid false scars on their faces.

It must however be said that our director practices this aberrant search,

these experiments worthy of Dr. Frankenstein,

only during the casting.

All that's left in the film is the clear-cut and precise character.

We're in makeup artist Rino Carboni's workshop.

Carboni, what exactly is makeup in a film by Fellini?

In Fellini's films, makeup is never conventional preparation of actors.

It's above all and almost always a violent operation,

a radical intervention aiming not at simple and banal transformation...

but the exasperated specification of a face, of a personality.

He simply expects the makeup department

to immediately become a dermatology center,

an operating theater, a taxidermy studio.

So he'll ask you the weirdest things.

He asks you to change the eye colors or nose shapes of the actors.

To enlarge or remove a character's teeth,

to extend chins or make people fatter,

Fellini considers actors to be extendable and dilatable.

He demands all sorts of things.

To cut hands, arms, teeth, feet, breasts in the case of hermaphrodites, and so on.

Magali Noël is the actress who played the character of Gradisca in the film.

How many candidates did Fellini examine, before choosing her?

The search for Gradisca was long, meticulous, draining and utterly useless.

That's right. Gradisca was supposed to be Sandra Milo,

and she would have been in the film too, had things gone differently.

At this point, someone may ask,

"If Sandrocchia was always meant to be Gradisca,

why were such exhausting searches performed all over Emilia Romagna?

Why were hundreds of candidates invited to try out for the part?"

Perhaps because in Fellini, a call for actors

is above all a psychological state,

allowing him to gradually define characters more deeply and precisely.

As you may know, Sandra Milo didn't work on the film.

Therefore, we chose to visit her and have a chat.

Early one morning, we waited in front of her kids' school.

And setting aside the discomfort of this rather theatrical ambush,

we kidnapped her.

- Come with us. - Where are you taking me?

Can we start, ma'am?

Okay.

I warn you, I'm terrible at interviews.

You chose not to play Gradisca, right?

You had your own objective reasons.

Surely you're sad not to have been in the film.

However, your choice also makes you free,

more independent from that character.

You're free to talk about her.

I'm not all that free, as in the end I didn't play Gradisca,

and Gradisca is such a great character, like all of Fellini's characters, and —

I'm personally not a great fan of Magali Noël.

As you were saying —

But I'm not saying that out of jealousy, right?

- Of course. - It's just that how I envisioned her —

I think I would have portrayed her with a little more joy,

and even a little more innocence, if you will.

That's it. Based on descriptions, I had imagined her...

as a somewhat gluttonous woman,

greedy for all beautiful things in life. I don't know.

A kind of woman who'd envision the world as some sort of large ice cream,

or as a good glass of wine, or a game of blindman's buff.

"I'll catch you! Catch me!"

She perceives life as a game,

she enjoys wearing a gorgeous dress, feeling silk on her body,

feeling that men look at her and desire her.

She embodies our desire to be attractive, you know?

Sandra, I find Magali Noël very good

at playing her as a sort of placid small-town chicken. Right?

- What do you — - If you put it that way.

If we're going to speak about fowl — Even I, when I made 8 1/2,

when I played Mrs. Carla, the lover —

I remember that Federico, when he was writing the character,

said he envisioned her as a peacock,

with a small head and large — Well, you know what I mean.

I think I played it quite well. It was credible.

That's how she was, with a small head. Like a peacock, right?

But there's a big difference between a peacock and a chicken!

We're degenerating into a treatise on ornithology!

Indeed!

Hello. Here we are in the studio of Mr. Fellini in Rome,

where he's now making preparations for his new film.

Also with us is Tonino Guerra, the famous writer.

Mr. Fellini will answer a few questions for the German and Munich audience.

If you please, Mr. Fellini,

what is the most emotional, or most important moment

in the preparation of your new film?

I don't know German. What did she say?

She said she's come from Paris to the studio.

Isn't she German?

Yes, but she traveled through Paris.

She's asking how many characters in Amarcord —

I didn't get that one word.

- I didn't understand. - I can try to explain in Italian.

Well, if she knows Italian. Did you understand her?

- Yes, more or less. It's been 25 years. - If you know Italian, that's better!

We'd like to ask you

what the most bewegende moment —

There it is! You see, in Hamburg bewegende means —

- Do you know German or not? - It depends on the city!

I told you, I was a prisoner for one year!

- It means "to kiss," right? - He told me he knew —

Kissing. What?

Come on, Tonino! Kissing?

Excuse me, what does bewegende mean?

- Emotions! See, that's what I meant! - Come on, Tonino!

We look like a sketch by the De Rege brothers.

The most emotional moment in preparing the film?

Well, that moment is right here.

An open office filled with people who —

Fellini now indulges in his typical act, reserved for reporters.

The main goal is to say nothing about the film he is making.

He repeats countless times for the German reporter

that he sees a film as a journey, or as a broken statue he must rebuild,

after finding its various scattered fragments.

Or maybe he's telling the story of the unexpected face,

of the smile from an unknown attractive woman,

of all the sudden inspiration he gets from the people who visit his office

or who he meets in the street.

- What's your name? - Armando Brancia, from Naples. Born 1917.

I'm an actor.

Theater, television.

- I've done very little cinema. - Would you like to do some more?

Yes, I would. But only if it's done well, at a certain level.

- You know what we need? A cyst. - A cyst?

- Yes. - Where?

Here, on your head.

Right here, you see?

- Well, if you think it's necessary... - Yes, it's essential.

I'll give the cyst a try.

Here we go, look.

Titta's father has now become a living creature.

So is Fellini looking for actors or characters?

In many films he certainly worked with great actors.

Alberto Sordi is unforgettable in The White Sheik and I vitelloni.

And what about Gelsomina?

Or Cabiria, played by Giulietta Masina.

And Marcello Mastroianni, who acted in two of Fellini's best known films:

La dolce vita and 8 1/2.

And great American actors: Anthony Quinn.

Richard Basehart, who played the Fool in La strada.

Terence Stamp.

Or Broderick Crawford in Il bidone.

Great theatrical actors: Pupella Maggio, Peppino De Filippo, Salvo Randone.

But we're particularly interested in the techniques, the devices,

or even the rituals

that transform a common person, not an actor, into a great performer.

What does Fellini teach them, what does he give them?

What does he learn himself? Does he steal from, or give to his actors?

In an attempt to answer these questions,

we set up a sort of roundtable,

and invited many of the actors from Amarcord to take part in it.

The architect Brembilla, who played the hierarch.

Doctor Misul, who was the professor of philosophy.

Mr. Rossi: the lawyer haunted by mysterious raspberries. You remember?

Those who've seen the film may recognize them.

This is the reporter and writer Pertica.

In the film, he was a blind accordion player.

We also have some of the school kids.

Here they all are, sitting around the table.

Is Fellini looking for actors or characters?

This is the topic of the debate.

Let's start with Mr. Ianigro, who played the grandfather.

He was born in Naples, where he lives and works as a magician.

Signor Ianigro —

Why I accepted Fellini's offer?

There are two reasons.

First of all, because I enjoy the art of theater.

Television, cinema, radio. I like all these things. It's true.

But also because in 1541,

one of my ancestors —

I come from an ancient family of actors and magicians.

I'm a magician myself. I told you that, right?

During the film, I wanted to send Fellini my fluid, but he refused it.

Actually he sent me his.

But he's not a true magician. No! Because he's from the North.

That's funny! What difference could there possibly be

between northern and southern magicians? Can you explain?

There's a big difference. But I'm not here to explain.

Extras are the supreme amalgam of the creators of the film itself.

Without extras...

Later, d'Artagnan. Now's not the right moment.

...the entire harmony of the film would fall apart. The actor...

D'Artagnan is the stage name of legendary extra Michele Stinelli.

What was I explaining? Ah, yes! Why Fellini was sending me his fluid.

He did so to hypnotize me!

To turn me into the grandfather. That specific grandfather.

While we were shooting the fog scene, where I get lost and frightened,

Fellini kept yelling, "Ianigro, you can't see a thing!"

But at the same time, he was sending me his fluid.

But I'm a magician.

Magicians can always see, even in the dark!

The unqualified say that Fellini messes with actors' heads to get what he wants.

It's not true.

- I'm done. Thank you. - What do you think, ma'am?

Magician or not, I think Fellini's pretty rude!

I'm really sorry for his wife.

Giulietta, yes,

who I adored in Eleonora. How it made me cry!

I played the maîtresse who rides the coach with those —

Yes, the working girls.

I don't know much about these things. I asked my husband.

But Fellini had promised me a different part!

What about me? He promised me everything!

He's been promising since 1957! Since the wedding —

Mr. Satta, you interrupted the lady. Later, please.

I thought we were here to talk!

Fellini says, "What do you mean, Esther?" That's my name.

"You mean to tell me you were never a maîtresse?"

Ma'am, I disagree with you and our magician Ianigro.

But I'll have to speak to him about this North and South business.

- That's noxious regionalism. - What does this guy want?

So you think Fellini has a method with actors, Mr. Brembilla? What is it?

Ah, well. The method of flattery, if I may.

I speak out of personal experience.

Fellini praises and seduces actors. He's a siren.

Yes, he's the Rimini siren!

Siren or not, working with him rejuvenated me.

If you're able to work with him.

Every day, he said something nice to me.

"Brembilla, you're a beauty!" "What fabulous ears!"

"That mustache really suits you! Don't shave!"

I didn't have a mustache before.

These things make you happy.

I keep the mustache as a souvenir, even if my wife can't stand it.

Are you going to cut out the stuff I say?

- What are you going to say? - You guys do that! I know your kind!

- Relax, Robutti. - It's an interview. Don't cut it, okay?

- Tell us your story. - Fellini said I had to be in the film.

"I won't make the film without you!" Then he disappeared.

For Amarcord, he called me and gave me the same song and dance.

"Dear Robutti, your face is so interesting.

You'll be in my next film."

At a certain point, I indulged him.

I said, "Yes, of course!" Because he kept going.

I thought it would be best to indulge him.

So I pretended that I believed him.

He thought he was fooling me,

but nobody from Rimini has ever fooled someone from Bologna.

So I let him believe whatever he wanted. He was happy, and I was too.

Fellini conquers you with friendship. He's a friend.

The man speaking so affectionately about Fellini is Nandino Orfei.

Yes, that's right. The lion tamer from the famous circus.

Like in the circus. It's one big family. It's the same atmosphere!

I felt related to the people I worked with in the film. Like Brancia.

The actor who plays Titta's father.

One evening he came to the circus,

while I was doing my act with the lions in the cage.

I thought he was watching me

with the same disgusted look he gives me in the film.

I feared the lions might agree with him!

I like working with Fellini,

because he always makes me feel that he's at ease.

I agree completely with Miss Belluzzi.

What could be more embarrassing than a raspberry?

While I was shooting, Fellini bombarded me with raspberries.

It was clearly for reasons of staging. Still, I never felt uneasy.

Actually, his raspberries thrilled me. They urged me to do better.

- Brembilla is right on that. - Thanks.

But when his assistant blew raspberries at me, Mr. Mein,

it was different, something else.

Even if Mr. Mein is a keen assistant.

I deal with penal rehabilitations.

I'm sure that one day I'll have to rehabilitate someone

who's hit Fellini on the head with a hammer!

Error is only human, but Fellini exaggerates! 18 years!

Caporale, what's your opinion of Fellini as a director of actors?

My pure experience was very nice.

This film, Amarcord, in which I play the role of —

What?

- Giudizio! - Giudizio!

I'd like to know what Fellini asks of an actor.

How does he behave, what does he do when directing actors?

He behaves very well.

Yes, but can you tell me anything specific?

When you had to do something, would Fellini explain it to you?

Yes, he explained it to me.

But I voluntarily did things

that I wasn't supposed to.

How is that possible? You did things you weren't supposed to?

I voluntarily did things I wasn't supposed to.

Why? Was Fellini happy?

He was very happy.

- Did he already know you'd do that? - Yes — No.

It's time to get rid of demiurge directors who deem actors merely plastic material!

We're forgetting that if directors are essential for actors...

Please, Mr. Misul.

...the actor embodies the director's representation and is the only —

You shouldn't interrupt your colleagues like that.

Allow me to let off steam.

Arbitrary cuts by celebrity directors deform all expressive intents,

and brutally wreck the actor's most meticulous solutions.

I disagree. He cut out some of my scenes too.

For example, the one with the tall ugly guy,

I can't remember his name.

There was a scene in which that nasty kid is hanging out with his friends,

fellow delinquents,

and he enters my tobacco store, because he's made a bet with his friends

about the weight of —

I don't know if I'm allowed to say it on television.

The weight of my chest.

So he actually dares ask me,

and I chase him away with a broom.

It was a cute scene. Fellini cut it from the film.

He's the boss, so he does as he pleases.

I'm in debt towards Fellini. I owe him everything.

I've received hundreds of marriage proposals.

They want to marry me and set up a great tobacco store.

And they're all young men under the age of 30.

And people still say unisex women are fashionable.

And what about Mr. Pertica, who played the blind —

- You can see fine, right? - Yes, I have perfect eyesight.

I also pay plenty of attention not to trip again.

- I hope you don't call me again. - You might trip and bump into Fellini!

Yes, I don't want to bump into him. He's a friend,

but I hope I don't have to work with him again.

I never smile. A mandibular trismus prevents me from doing it.

If I do, I suffer terribly.

I told Fellini, but he said, "That's why you're here.

To smile. Just smile."

One day he threatened to tie elastic bands from the corners of my mouth to my ears,

but I said "no."

I refused.

I don't question the "Fellini system."

I'm not an actor. I'm a manager in a major American company.

Yet, what I observed is certainly very, very strange.

One day in Anzio, I saw the following scene.

What's the range of the telescope?

If you truly loved me, you wouldn't have me mocked by people.

You wouldn't rip hair from my ears. You wouldn't poke my eyes.

But I can't see a thing 400 meters away.

- If you truly loved me. - Why do you make that remark?

Maselli, the actor by the telescope, couldn't remember his lines.

So Fellini had him recite verses from Ciccio Formaggio,

the only song Maselli knows by heart, as he's been repeating it for 50 years.

Let's see if the others also found this moment strange.

Mr. Magno, were you disturbed by those declarations of love by Maselli?

In terms of acting, not sentimentally, of course.

I was saying the lines from the script.

And he kept replying, "If you truly loved me," and so on.

I had no idea what was going on.

I had no clue where we were in the script.

My psychological predicament was further worsened

by Mr. Fellini, who would occasionally come near and ask me,

"Magno, are you sure you really have no love for Maselli?"

Our roundtable could go on forever,

as there's so much to talk about.

For example, Mrs. Stagni remembers being very confused due to anemones.

Ever since I was a child, I was always allergic to those flowers.

We could listen to an infinity of such revelations and justifications,

each one sincere, funny and full of bizarre, tender humanity.

But now is the time to come to an end.

As you saw, the obscure relationship between Fellini and his actors

was neither clarified nor defined.

It was merely represented.

We think the sense, the feelings emerging from the meeting you just watched

reveal the mutual indispensability

binding Fellini to the creatures who inhabit his stories.

All these characters following him from one film to the next,

are ultimately more necessary for Fellini than he is for them.

That's right. If Ingmar Bergman has his Max Von Sydow,

his Gunnar Björnstrand, Ingrid Thulin, Harriet Andersson,

Fellini has his Stagni, Caporale, Satta, Magno.

They're certainly different from their Nordic colleagues,

but we find them to be equally important, and maybe more inimitable.

ROTA: ALL FELLINI'S FILMS

Who could help us end this conversation better than Nino Rota,

who composed the music for all Fellini's films?

What do you want?

Excuse us, Nino. It's for the interview.

We'd like to ask how you compose music for Fellini's films.

How does your collaboration work?

Music for Fellini's films?

We write the scores for Fellini's films so quickly

that out of decency, it's better we don't talk about it.

Why?

People would think that we don't —

Here you are, maestro.

Not that we do it with facility, but that we don't take it seriously.

After you've come up with the theme what happens next?

Do you write it down right away?

Federico doesn't like it when I write it down immediately.

But there's the danger that I might think of another theme

and forget the first one.

So now he encourages me to write it down immediately —

No, thanks. I don't smoke.

And the cigarette?

- I'll just keep it here. - As a souvenir.

Fellini never goes to concerts, never directed an opera, not even yours.

Why do you think he's so allergic to music?

I wouldn't say he's allergic to music.

He's unable to listen to music in a distracted way.

He either participates and is moved by it, or it annoys him.

He's not at my insane levels:

I can compose music while listening to something else on the radio.

But Fellini's insane in his own way.

Sometimes he has buskers thrown out of restaurants, did you know that?

I know all about it.

He did so more than once, and caused me great embarrassment.

After all, they're my colleagues.

One day, I may be playing with them too.

Excuse me, Nino.

How did you come up with the main theme for Amarcord, Gradisca's theme?

Federico and I usually come up with the themes together.

He often gives me very precise suggestions,

but sometimes also very contradictory suggestions.

He tells me to find an amusing theme that's sad,

an old-fashioned theme that sounds new,

something carefree but also moving.

We fooled around for a whole day, and nothing was coming out.

Finally, when Federico's about to leave, I plunk out a tune on the piano.

He stops and says, "That's it!

We'll do the whole film with that."

For those who worked on the film,

these fragments you have seen from the production of Amarcord

still feel so fresh and urgent that we may even ask ourselves,

"Which was the real film?

The one we watched in the theaters,

or the daily, passionate adventure of those who followed its development?"

There it is!

Dad!

The Rex!

Hurray for the Rex! The greatest thing the regime ever built!

SECRET DIARY OF AMARCORD