Categories: reading
Date: 18 April 2008 07:41:12
On the topic of films, as it seems to be a feature of recent posts, I've just finished David Stratton's memoir I Peed on Fellini. David, together with Margaret, hosts the At The Movies programme on ABC TV and hosted the long-running The Movie Show on SBS previously.
It is a fascinating book from someone who has had a love of film from a very early age and been involved with film for a great deal of his life. There is plenty I could say about this very engaging book: his move to Australia, the struggles and failures -- dealt with in honesty -- of married life, his globe-trotting to attend film premieres and film festivals, his tenure as director of the Sydney Film Festival, his work on TV... But what I found particularly interesting was the times and places he experienced: particularly with regard to censorship. Not having much knowledge of this, I was so surprised at the draconian, and I mean draconian, censorship that existed here -- and in other parts of the world. And the hoops David and others had to leap through to try and get a 'controversial' film screened -- and how scenes were cut indiscrimantly. It was also fascinating to read of his journeys to countries behind "the Iron Curtain" to view films and attend festivals, and his work in bringing the best of cinema -- from various countries -- to Australia. Truly fascinating and engaging.
And yes: he did pee on Fellini. From the book:
My only encounter with Federico Fellini occurred in a toilet. This was in 1966, when he was one of the most celebrated and admired film directors in the world. I was 26 years old and I had recently directed my first Sydney Film Festival. I was on my first visit to one of the legendary European festivals. Venice was, in fact, the oldest of all the film festivals having been founded in 1933, during the era of Mussolini and Fascism. This being the first international film festival I'd attended, I knew nobody there. The friends I would make in the future were unknown to me then; I was a babe in the wood, a novice at the game. But waiters offered glasses of champagne and I drank a few, realising, as I did so, that I was drinking on an empty stomach, not having had the time for dinner that evening. After about an hour of such 'star-gazing', several glasses of champagne, a few bites of canapes and the occasional desultory conversation, I felt an urgent need to find a toilet. With an increasing sense of urgency I sought a 'cabinet' and, when I finally located one, the urge had become close to desperate. There I was at last, standing up against the porcelain, feeling a sense of relief. A man was standing next to me, a big man who looked vaguely familiar. I stole a glance at him. Could it be? It was. Urinating next to me was none other than Federico Fellini. I can only excuse what happened next because of the excitement of the occasion, the champagne and my youthful naivete. I turned towards the great man. "Mr. Fellini," I began. And I peed all over his shoes. One result of this brief, unfortunate, encounter was that I learnt a new Italian word: "Stronzo!" It means "Asshole." It was well deserved.