Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1956)

He Leaves His Heart in Rome (Continued from page 52) time, duplicating the marital services which had first imited them fifteen years before in Rome. Then, young, stubborn, and very much in love, they had ignored the objections of both their families and had married without parental consent. No one from their families came to that first wedding ceremony, and the young couple began their married life in the lonely gloom of parental disapproval. How different was this second ceremony! The Pope himself had sent the Brazzis a special benediction. Everyone from both their families, including Rossano’s widowed mother, his brother and sister, Lidia’s parents, and all their in-laws — nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles — were there to drink to their health and wish them well. “My wife’s family, who are titled, first objected to me because I didn’t come from nobility,” explains Rossano. “They thought Lidia should have married the stuffy lawyer she was engaged to before I came along.” “Rossano’s family thought an early marriage might hurt his career. Besides, everyone thought we were both too young and headstrong,” is Lidia Brazzi’s explanation. Anyway, that was all in the turbulent past, and both families now enjoy a close relationship. In fact, Lidia’s parents make the Brazzi apartment in Rome their winter headquarters. The span of fifteen years, which had witnessed the shift in family sentiments, had also marked a few changes in Rossano’s professional life. After more than a decade of success in Italy, this veteran of 80 pictures and numerous plays has found himself, at the age of 39, suddenly “discovered” by Hollywood as a romantic screen lover, the epitome of continental charm and Latin gallantry. Hundreds of perfumed letters, throbbing with daring declarations of love and longing, pour in daily at Rossano’s apartment in Rome. Most of them come from America. One woman, the mother of three children, was inspired to pen him the following verse: “God made wine, God made cheese, God made Rossano for me to squeeze.” Another sent him a solid gold watch. W hen Rossano was in New York last year for the premiere of “Summertime,” a magnificent Cadillac was delivered to his hotel, with a note — and five pictures of herself — from a fan living in Chicago, who invited him to visit her in the Windy City. The invitation was generously, if reluctantly, extended to his wife also. Twenty fans in Japan have asked Rossano to come to their country — at their expense — and spend a day in each one’s home. Rossano reacts with gratitude but caution to all these overtures and demonstrations from his fans. “Life would mean very little, if there were no women,” he purrs. “I admit I have a great liking for them.” Then he wisely adds, “But remember, I have been happily married for fifteen years, and each year I think I love my wife more.” The roving, caressing eye, which has become the Brazzi trademark, goes well with his movie cloak of Casanova, but off-screen Rossano is a deeply devoted husband. His wife, Lidia, a buxom, jovial, blue -eyed bundle of energy and charm, is the solid foundation of strength and understanding on which Rossano has built his life. Although their relationship is ocp casionally beset by raging arguments, for each has a violent temper, Rossano could not visualize life without Lidia. “Of all the women I have met, both on the screen and off,” he says, “I still think my wife is the most interesting.” In addition to her witty and bright personality, Lidia Brazzi has a rare understanding of the demands of Rossano’s career. She never interferes with his plans, never questions his appointments, is always there when he needs her. Sometimes, however, she feels that her presence may be a drawback in his professional life, so she keeps in the background as much as possible. This is at her own insistence. “I have been to a studio to watch Rossano work only once, and that was enough for me,” she says, her eyes twinkling in good humor. “It was several years ago, here in Rome, and Rossano was making a picture with Alida Valli. As I started to go on the set, an assistant director approached me and, with an embarrassed air, explained that Rossano was in the midst of a love scene with Miss Valli. It had never quite hit me with such violence before that making love to other women was a part of Rossano’s work. I smiled and whispered to the assistant, ‘Don’t tell him that I’ve come here. I’ll wait for him in the car.’ I’ve never visited a set since.” We were sitting in the tastefully furnished Brazzi apartment in Rome. While chatting fluently in her gently accented English, Lidia kept one ear cocked toward the door in the event she was needed by Rossano, who was resting after a slight case of flu. She had just recovered from a serious bout of the same sickness, in time to take care of Rossano. “It is very easy to be Rossano’s wife,” Lidia said gaily. “He is such a good boy. We have many fights, of course, but it is impossible to stay angry with him very long. When he screams, sometimes I scream louder than he does. “When he sulks, I am quiet. I say nothing. Once we had a terrible quarrel. We had to stop it because we were expecting guests for lunch. At the table, I served everyone except Rossano. I spoke to everyone, but not a word to him. I kept this up for two days. I laughed and sang, as I always do around the house, but I never addressed a word to him. “Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘Why don’t you talk to me?’ he pleaded like a little boy. How could I stay angry with him?” she smiled. Lidia learned very early in their married life that generous portions of trust and confidence are the basic ingredients for a happy marriage. Rossano has been attractive to women ever since he was eight and his father boxed his ears for flirting with a girl of twenty. Lidia soon realized that, if she was not going to be haunted by doubts and fears every minute he was out of her sight, she had to have faith in him. “When Rossano goes off to work, I say, ‘Goodbye, take care of yourself, work hard.’ I never ask him what time he will be home; I don’t call the studio if he isn’t back at his normal time; I don’t try to control him. I realize that actors often have obligations outside their home. Sometimes he says, ‘I’ll be home about midnight.’ ‘Okay,’ I say. “But maybe he comes earlier than he had planned. During our entire married life, I have never had the sensation that he was involved with another woman.” Sometimes, to tease him, Lidia says, “Poor Rossano, poor man, don’t you wish you were free?” Then Rossano gets angry and cries, “Don’t say such things! I’m happy. I have everything I want.” Lidia has put on about eighty pounds since her marriage, but she is not M conscious about her weight. She lov ,1 dance and is as light as a feather orH feet. Not in defiance, but because she B them, she usually wears low-cut drcjgl. which emphasize her ample bosom, d stead of skipping over the subject,® jokes about her stoutness. When Roi n occasionally chides her and suggests she reduce, she answers indignantly, should I? You are the beauty of the i ily, not me. Leave me alone.” Actually, Lidia has made several svn human efforts to cut down her we| and she is a delicate eater. As she ; *■ “This is my nature, what can I do?” But not for an instant does she a self-conscious or submerged when i ^ group. She overcomes her lack of si ness with her charm and personality Lidia usually accompanies Rossan(| his film engagements outside of Rome.i rare times they take a plane, they tm together. The only time they have ever been ia for any length of time was last year a ing Rossano’s personal appearance toil America for the opening of “Siunmertia “Forty-eight days,” Lidia sighed. “Iti our longest separation since our marriij During that trip, Rossano phonqd 1| in Rome every night. He would rec his adventures in the various citie: had visited. He went to tea with ten n^ paperwomen in Boston, and before he 1 h it, was accompanying them on a nig club tour that lasted until four in: morning. But before he hopped into ; he called Lidia to tell her all about itf Lidia is Rossano’s severest critic, analyzes aU his performances with a cerning eye, and admits ruefully tha has made more bad movies than good < “Summertime” is still her favorite ! She knew Rossano was good, but ii|( expected him to be the sensation he came. Rossano, too, had been some' I amazed at his success. “They have seen nothing yet,” he ( “I shall surprise everyone with my | pictures. I am going to do much bel? Rossano’s assurance in himself is ( based on over-confidence, but as he i it, “I’ve found the gimmick. I know i what is expected of me — a contim | manner and accent, with the emphasii sex appeal. “I cannot compete with American r formers as an actor,” he adds. “The: i the language difficulty. I speak EnglisI course, but to interpret a role in a ere:? manner, one must understand the nu I of each word. That I cannot do, so I :( express myself with my hands and t my eyes, in my own fashion.” It is perfectly natural that Ross: i satisfaction over his recent good forti is tinged with a note of triumph. “I 3 it had happened years ago,” he says, ^ it could have so easily. When I first '3 to Hollywood, in 1949, I wanted to 1 romantic roles, but no producer thol I could be convincing.” Rossano almost shudders in horror \l he thinks of the year he and Lidia sj in Hollywood. He prefers to forget abo 1 He thought it would be the big breal his life, but it proved to be nothing ii than heartbreaking. David Selznick, impressed by RossjJ reputation as the Latin Errol Flynn ' usually arrived in my co-star’s arms < leaping over high walls and rampar ’ brought him to Hollywood in 1949. “For a long time,” Rossano recall ' sat around and did nothing. There i nothing for me at the studio, so fu