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Paparazzi (1964)
You arrived in Capri at 5:00
in the evening on May 1 7, 1 963. You were in Capri to film the exteriors for Contempt, Jean-Luc Godard's film adaption of a novel by Alberto Moravia. In Capri at the same time and for the same reason were Fritz Lang, Jack Palance, Michel Piccoli and Giorgia Moll. Each morning you'd go to an isolated spot on the southeast tip of the island. There stands a villa that once belonged to the Italian author Curzio Malaparte, where the last part of Contempt was to be shot. On the terrace... indoors... or in the immediate surroundings. Built on a rocky promontory, the villa was an ideal work setting. One path led from the village of Capri, but access by sea was easier. It was practically impossible to approach without permission from the production. Soldiers under the direction of Commander Ventrone patrolled the surrounding area. The only chance for the curious was to approach by sea, or to observe from a distance with binoculars. Brigitte Bardot is the most photographed woman in the world. Brigitte Bardot is the most photographed woman in the world. And if the most photographed woman in the world comes to your neighborhood, you and your family simply must go and meet her. Kindly keep your distance. Please. We're working here. There she is! Bye, beautiful! Once again from the top, please. Naples, May 1 7. Half an hour before sailing for Capri. The ship's not yet at the dock. Brigitte's in the car and would like to get out. Everyone takes pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, and everyone takes pictures of Brigitte Bardot. Why this camera mania? It's notjust ''BB''the actress that fascinates the crowds, but ''BB''in real life. ''BB''works as well in a newspaper headline as on a movie marquis, and for some years now, Brigitte Bardot has played nonstop the role of... Because the public asks it ofher, Brigitte kindly plays the part. She opens her door and invites you in. Well-mannered people know to leave when the moment has come. There's a certain kind of press that has no manners, that will peek through the keyhole of a locked door and tell what they see, even if they see nothing. They'll print pictures that say just what they want them to say. The important thing is to get the picture. In Italy all this has given rise to the strange characters called: May 20, the Villa Malaparte. Godard finishes setting up the next shot. You relax and lie in the sun. The sound engineer horses around. We'll rehearse in a moment. Places, everyone. Godard comes to get you. In this shot, Michel Piccoli, playing your husband- Why do you despise me? Tell me or I'll hurt you. Why hurt me on top of it? You decide to get revenge. Jicky Dussart, the photographer on the shoot, captures this moment... as well as the next, in which Michel Piccoli, seeking forgiveness, helps you up the steps. But that May afternoon,Jicky's camera was not the only one in action. These hastily snapped photos are of poor quality. Nevertheless, certain newspapers will find them precious documents, or perhaps just profitable. You'd like to have the right, like everyone else, to lower your head when descending the stairs so as to avoid missing a step. But if a telephoto lens is hidden behind rocks 1 00 feet away, just the act oflowering your head can take on weighty significance. For in the language of certain reporters, lowering your head takes on a different meaning. BRIGITTE COMES OUT OF HI DI NG The newspaper in question considers it unimportant to mention that the picture was taken at the Villa Malaparte in Italy. Yet that's where it was taken, on May 29 at 4:00 in the afternoon, by photographers you felt no need to flee from because you never even saw them, and you never saw them because they were hidden. They'd been following Brigitte since filming began in Rome. She arrived in Capri on May 1 7. They in turn arrived on the 1 8th. Look at the beautiful girls in Capri! They came here with a purpose- these were no amateurs- and answered to the names of- Lucciano. Claudio Valente, of Valente Photo Agency. Paolo. The paparazzi's tools of the trade: a 300 mm telephoto lens, with a 3.5 aperture, which can get a full-body shot from 1 50 feet away. A Vespa. Apair oflegs. Endurance. A flash. Their secret weapons: patience and stubbornness. Tuesday, May 2 1, 1 0:00 a.m. You board the boat for the Villa Malaparte. They are there. At 1 0:30 the same day, you arrive at the villa. Jean-Luc! They are there. Thursday, May 23, 5:00 p.m. You set out to go water-skiing. They are there. Friday, May 2 4, 3:00 p.m. You listen to Godard's instructions. So do they. You shout ''Camille'' here. Once Brigitte has gone over there, you count to five, and then you go. Saturday, May 25. The day began badly, and everyone is tense. Those paparazzi have been there all day. No one can stand this constant surveillance. Godard least of all, and he'll tell them so himself. Brigadier Ventrone follows behind and translates. Furious at being driven off, Claudio, Lucciano and Paolo decide they'll get the definitive picture of Bardot that night, no matter what it takes. The clash takes place outside the restaurant where you've had dinner. They insult people in the street, me in particular. The people with me are forced to react. That's when they file charges saying we attacked and beat them. The poor souls! The next morning they report they were beaten up to the local correspondents for Il Tempo, Il Matino, and Il Messagiero di Roma. The next day those papers run articles unflattering to Brigitte. ''Bardot's Fianc Attacks Photographer.'' Why that article in the paper? Because you're not kind to us. We were very upset, Brigitte, and we wanted to let the public know what you are. Why don't you ever let us take pictures? What's the best shot of Bardot for you? A bathing suit. A bikini. Those are great pictures for the weeklies. I'm sure if we could get a picture ofher with the little dog, Il Tempo, Il Settimo Giorno, Il Europeo would print it right away. But that's impossible. She's always surrounded by police and soldiers. They stop us. At the very moment we're about to get a picture. Of course, all this in spite of our sincere efforts to convince the soldiers that we need to eat every day.! We're not lucky enough to haveJicky Dussart's job, the photographer on Bardot's production. He can do anything he wants. He can work completely at ease, in a relaxed and casual way. Artfully, simply and elegantly. And we get yelled at by our press agency to boot.! The only thing that bothers us is having someone among us who doesn't take it seriously. First he cuts the name ''La Stampa'' out of the paper and puts it on his hat. Then he draws everyone's attention to his hand that's in a cast. It makes a terrible impression. It's very hard to believe, but he broke his neck in April on the Via Veneto. He slipped on a banana peel. We were hoping for a lot more. At a certain point, you can't work that way anymore. Climbing up mountains to take pictures with a telephoto lens from 600 feet away. To think that to get a picture with a telephoto lens, we risk falling to our death from a cliff. We're not interested anymore. Is this the last time you'll ever take pictures of Bardot? - You'd try again if she came back to Italy? - Yes. You see. |
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