The atmosphere was beautiful. Everything within it carried the calm elegance that seemed left behind by the Second World War; the settings, the architecture, the textures of life itself all felt purchased from another era. Billy remained seated, drinking wine and writing, while a small team of three or four people either took down his dictation or followed the sketches he produced. Billy's storyboards were astonishingly fast to keep up with. At times, he would simply seize the paper himself and pour everything onto it in a single sweep.
The story of Malena was, at its core, a reflection—a mirror born from the hatred people feel toward what they secretly wish they could become. That was why the film carried such rawness, provoking a strange sense of discomfort and indignation in those who watched it. Everything begins when a young wife is left alone at home after her husband is called away to join the war effort. She is beautiful, young, and without a man to defend her. Every time she walks through the streets of the village, the men cannot stop staring at her, greeting her, following behind her with a lust so shameless it becomes unsettling even among the youngest boys.
Then Renato arrives, the narrator—a young man completely consumed by beauty, obsession, and fantasy, feeding his sexual awakening through endless days and nights filled with vague ideas about love. Yet Billy, together with director Giuseppe Tornatore, calculated another possible path for the character.
They transformed Renato through growth itself, allowing him to evolve from a distant platonic love into something fully present, fully lived—a love that breaks through barriers, protects, and sacrifices, though existing within a reality far harsher than expected, where Malena must ultimately understand the brutal truth of being married to love itself. Sicilian codes then emerge: if a woman was alone and still young, she was expected to find a suitor quickly or risk being treated as public property—once again labeled a "puttana," stripped of both honor and the respect of society.
Renato eventually realizes that if he truly wants to win a woman's heart, he must be willing to do everything for her. The dreams of a boy become the promises of a man, making conscious choices. The second half of the story presents the war directly. The Nazis arrive, and through Renato's still-fragile eyes, the world begins to change. The end of the war leads the village women into the cruelest sequence of the film: they drag Malena through the streets, beat her, tear apart her dresses, and accuse her with vicious hatred, condemning her like a criminal while knowing, deep down, that the men themselves are equally guilty.
Not long afterward, they return to the village, but this time everything is different. Renato, now only ten years younger than her, fights openly for his love, and together they leave to live a peaceful life along the Italian coast, where they eventually raise two children. And in that quiet conclusion, the answer everyone longed for finally arrives in a modest yet deeply meaningful way—the closing of a cycle. In many ways, Monica herself seemed capable of making such stories possible. Her beauty left people speechless; she was rejected because of it, yet accepted for the same reason.
--Bene, I didn't know you were this good with Italian. - Giuseppe commented.
--Not at all. I think three years of singing and speaking have simply given me enough time to shape my lines properly. - Billy replied.
Ever since they began working on The Lady from Shanghai, Billy had spoken Italian every single day in order to fully understand the language. He approached it the way any serious performer would: repeating his lines over and over with almost religious discipline while studying under a vocal coach who spoke nothing but Italian. The process was tangled and exhausting, but slowly it gave him the foundation necessary to transform those songs into genuine works of art.
--Molto bene, molto bene. I think we still have a few small discussions ahead of us. - Giuseppe replied. - Lately, I've been wondering whether the resources you've given me now will also be available for my future films. With this project, I feel a strength inside me that leaves me no choice but to keep imagining my next works. Or perhaps I'll simply wait for someone to choose me again to make cinema—maybe they'll hand me a project capable of earning real recognition. -
--You'll have enough for three films, however you want to make them. Lux Films will assign you a producer responsible for overseeing expenses and helping you on the executive side of hiring. You'll deliver your final cut, and we'll reserve part of the budget for advertising—as much as possible, depending on how audiences respond to it. - Billy commented.
--It sounds even more beautiful when you say it in Italian, caro mio. - Giuseppe possessed a dark, peculiar sense of humor, shaped by his patriotism and by the contradictory yet deeply passionate convictions that defined him.
--The idea isn't simply to do this. The idea is to take talented Italian directors and help them create art—but art that truly matters, art that isn't made only for a small circle of people. I want it to be like Cinema Paradiso, or perhaps like The Legend of 1900—a story told properly, a story told beautifully, where all of you compress culture itself into a single shot. - Billy explained.
At times,s he stumbled over his own words or failed to fully express what he meant, because speaking in that way was difficult even for him. Yet when he managed to articulate it clearly, it became obvious why staying in Italy a little longer was worthwhile. Especially now, with only three months remaining before the worldwide release of Star Wars, soon to be followed by Matrix, and afterward Girl, Interrupted, premiering alongside The Mummy—three performances that would once again position him among Hollywood's small circle of premium actors.
--I know a few excellent directors who would love to work with you, amico mio. - Giuseppe whispered, already imagining the favors and influence such connections would bring him.
--I want to acquire the rights to every film by Roberto Rossellini and Sergio Leone. - Billy said, understanding that these were the favorite directors of certain people in the audience—people who fascinated him.
The Italian production company would become like a perfume, something subtle yet unforgettable. Quietly, it would guide audiences toward the platform he dreamed of creating, surpassing in elegance the three nations dominating Europe's most prestigious festivals—Italy, France, and Germany—while gathering cinema from across the continent and organizing it into intimate categories for devoted audiences, for those who believed a great film should also be a social, political, ethical, and spiritual narrative.
--You truly love Italy. - Bertolucci asked, referring to the rumors of an upcoming wedding.
--Yes, of course I love it. But I love art even more. I believe that by experimenting and giving artists real resources, art itself can help create a magnificent society. - Billy commented.
--Ahhhh, now I see. What a romantic future you paint. I almost fell in love with myself. - Bertolucci whispered.
The two men sat in their director's chairs, speaking furiously in hushed voices while camera assistants prepared multiple takes around them. The sequence itself appeared simple on the surface, yet it would become one of the emotional pillars of the entire film, filling the screen with layered intrigue and color. As filming continued, Bertolucci insisted on shooting two separate endings despite Billy's involvement. He wanted both possibilities preserved.