When I was a teenager I thought Marcello Mastroianni was the coolest guy in the world. Wearing those sunglasses at night, wandering around Rome till dawn, all that sex his characters were getting...It still sounds good! (I may be a lot older but not much wiser.)
Anyway, I have been on a nostalgia kick lately, seeing lots of those great Italian films from the 50s and 60s, lots of Sophia and Marcello. And Fellini hovering above them all like some leonine deity.
I recall some British film critic slamming Marcello for his deadpan acting style in La Dolce Vita. Evidently, the twit had not seen or had discounted his earlier work. Yet the character of Marcello Rubino was just one of many personas that Mastroianni inhabited fully and convincingly over the years. Yes, there was an innate charm in everything the man did. But he was a masterful actor precisely because he underplayed and was never in the least stagey.
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