Photoplay (Jul-Dec 1956)

I' I feel.” Then, of course, she relents. Dssano received his first real break in cture. called, “The Trial and Death of t.-ates.” After that it was easy going, and E became the most sought-after male i in Italy. Then Selznick saw him in tick Eagle” and signed him. I is first trip to Hollywood may have rved a disillusioning experience in many s, but it was there that Lidia learned ' to cook. “I had nothing else to do all ” she says, “so I practiced different .an dishes.” idia is Rossano’s favorite cook, and the Wt he enters their apartment he can |by the aromas coming from the kitchen ther Lidia has cooked the day’s meal ;elf. The dish he prefers above all is 'a’s own recipe for Tortinelli, a type of oli, made with meat and cheese, and ed with broth. Like most Italians, ^ano has a keen interest in food, and h expert cook himself. He recently inted a sauce for chicken, and a wellwn Roman restaurant is featuring it on nenu as Poletto a la Brazzi. ossano is essentially a homebody, and dkes nothing better than an evening at 'le playing bridge or canasta with *ids. “Lidia is a better player than I he says, “but I will never admit it to l” But Lidia loves to go out, so when ^ano is not working, the Brazzis are iiful first-nighters and frequent nightpbers. lie couple’s deepest sorrow is that they I’ no children, and they pour their love {affection on animals of all kinds. They 5 two French poodles, which they ght in Hollywood, and a Spanish jdow. A less conventional member of ^ family is their little rabbit, which sano acquired three years ago, while ocation in Spain. He had just put his iheon basket into his car when he saw a gray streak headed for the basket. He put his coat over it, wondering what kind of creature, he had captured. It was a wild rabbit, and it has been, a member of the Brazzi family ever since. Perhaps the main reason for Rossano’s appeal to women, both on screen and off, is his suave virility. He can kiss a woman’s hand with elegance, but he is also a formidable opponent in a boxing ring. He is an expert skier — he and Lidia spend most winter weekends at the ski resort of Terminillo, aru hour’s drive from Rome — a keen soccer and tennis fan, and is passionately interested in racing. “I don’t drive any more,” he says. “I drive too fast, and am much too nervous.” Rossano’s interest in sports does not prevent him from also being a serious student of languages and music. He knows Latin and Greek, as well as five modern tongues. He adds to his vast record collection by exchanging, with his American fans, books on Italian art for the newest discs. In modern music, George Gershwin is his idol. Although he loves his work and is restless when he has nothing to do, Rossano wants to limit his pictures to two a year. As Lidia says, “There must be time to enjoy life. Money — after all, what is it? If you have enough to do what you want, that is all that is important. I am no happier now that Rossano can give me a mink coat and diamonds than I was when he was earning 100 lire a day.” Lidia stopped suddenly in the midst of her thoughts and glanced toward the bedroom door. It opened slowly, and Rossano, fetchingly handsome in a Scotch plaid bathrobe, stood there rubbing his eyes. “Ah, the beauty is up,” Lidia smiled at him affectionately, and began humming a song happily. Her whole attitude changed now that Rossano was in her presence. “Cicci, how is the. cold?” she asked him anxiously. (“Cicci,” an untranslatable term used, between lovers, is Rossano’s and Lidia’s nickname for each other.) “Better, much better,” Rossano answered, stifling a sneeze. “Poor boy,” Lidia sighed, looking at her husband sympathetically. Then, her words changed as rapidly as her thoughts, and she said, “Now, what is more correct in English for Noze di Rame, fifteenth wedding aniversary — is it copper or brass?” Before I had a chance to answer, she shook her finger playfully at her husband, and said, “If only he would speak English with me, I wouldru’t have to ask these things.” “If I speak English with you, I will forget how to speak it properly,” Rossano answered with dignity. “Ah,” said Lidia, “I will look it up in the dictionary. But, no, why should I bother? Who cares anyway for our fifteenth wedding anniversary?” “What do you mean?” cried Rossano. “I care, that’s who cares!” It was obvious tiny clouds were gathering for a minor storm in the Brazzi household. It was time for me to go. Rossano said goodbye warmly and prudently avoided the drafty hall. Despite my vehement protests about the cold, Lidia insisted upon accompanying me to the outside door. From inside came wafts of sound which resembled Rossano’s voice. “Lidia, you just got out of bed with the flu. Don’t stay in that drafty hall! You will catch cold again, and I’m the one who has to pay the doctor bills.” The voice got fainter and fainter. Lidia glanced at me, winked slyly, and said with a happy smile, “Let him scream.” As the elevator drifted slowly down, I could hear the strains of what had now become a duet, without music. All was well in the Brazzi household. The End '\/\^rLde'r(^ TxewJciiid opsL-ampoo CX'HJoC / You’ll say Cuticura Shampoo is a girl’s best friend when you see how gloriously your hair twinkles . . . how enchantingly smooth it is . . . how easy to manage. Cviticura SHAMPOO Better than soap shampoo— better than soapless shampoo —combines the best features of both! 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