Anna Manuelli

It was definitely a very intense experience for me, I was little and so everything was amplified. It was my first real encounter with the theater and with the passion that drives it. From there I understood that I wanted to follow that path. It is an experience that I still carry with me, it is there that I decided to give a precise direction to my life.

Cinema has always fascinated me. But the truth is that I had fallen in love with acting itself, so the medium — theater or cinema — was secondary. At the Center we trained as complete actors, we did a lot of theater, almost more than experience with the camera. But it was all perfectly in line with my desire to do this job in the round.

Remember? It was really my very first experience, I was very young. Pezzi Unici, on the other hand, was my first important role. I played Erica, a complex character, with a very dense narrative arc. I had just finished the Center, and it was exciting to immediately find myself on a set with such a significant part. I felt a great responsibility but also enthusiasm: it was a challenge and a great opportunity.

I think that awareness came at the Experimental Center. There I understood that I was dedicating all my time, my energy, my life to this. It is there that I began to identify deeply with this profession.

I felt grown up, of course. But now, in retrospect, I realize that I was still a child….

It was a very special project, it told a true story — the friendship of a group that dissolves due to events bigger than themselves. It was essential to create a real chemistry between us, because on screen we had to seem like long-time friends. We worked a lot before the shooting and a real bond was created, which made the experience special even off the set.

I was still at the Center. Suddenly I found myself on a set with him, the only two actors. We spent an intense week. Between scenes we often talked about acting — I asked questions, he shared his vision. It was enlightening. And he is a really down-to-earth, humble person. The truly great ones often are.

Marco is an inexhaustible source of energy. Always present, always on the ball, capable of creating lightness and joy on the set without ever losing focus. He is contagious, and I have often thought that I would like to have that same ability to keep everyone’s spirits high, working well together.

It was fascinating. A different world, even just for the size of the set, of the project. I remember in particular the care in the special effects. I thought that they were almost all things added in post-production, instead I witnessed incredible, real scenes: exploding trucks, stuntmen throwing themselves into the flames covered in fireproof gel. I was struck by the dedication, the risk, the craftsmanship behind it all.

It is a project born with my group of friends from the Center. A shared challenge, pure enthusiasm. We wanted to tell our own story. It is a fantasy inspired by the popular legends of Cetraro, the hometown of one of us. It was a wonderful journey, an act of love.

I look for stories that make sense. That offer hope, that uplift. When the viewer leaves the theater or closes the screen, I want them to feel like they have received something. Beauty, emotion, possibility.

I had a thousand ideas—architecture, political science—but no real direction. Maybe philosophy. In the end, though, it all led to that: acting.

One Hundred Years of Solitude. It’s my favorite book.

It’s hard to choose one. Meryl Streep and Anna Magnani’s filmography offers masterpieces. The choice of Sophie is one of the interpretations that struck me the most. Then there are very intense recent films, but those remain pillars.

Cate Blanchett. She is, perhaps, my favorite actress. She has an amazing ability to transform. I remember her in I’m Not There as Bob Dylan: more credible than anyone. She is magnetic, complex, incredible.

In Italy, Alice Rohrwacher. Her films are pure poetry. Internationally, I was very impressed by Little Things Like These by Tim Mielants: a delicate, human, profoundly true look.

The cell phone. I know, it’s not poetic… but it’s the tool that allows you to ask for help, to be traced. It’s the least romantic answer, but the most pragmatic.