The film world, or what's left of it, gathered at the Saint-Roch church in Paris to say goodbye to Claudia Cardinale , one of the last difficult figures of the golden age of European cinema. Hundreds of well-known faces, family members, and the occasional crasher gathered at what they call the "parish of artists," a place with more history in show business than in faith, to bid farewell to the actress who, being as tanned as a fiddlestick, chose the French capital to spend her final years.
Claudia Cardinale
The air inside was thick, a mix of respect and nostalgia for a time long gone. Flowers were everywhere and messages commemorating a career spanning more than sixty years, a work that left a lasting mark on the big screen. But beyond the formal tribute, the ceremony left a question hanging over her: who really was this woman who became a global icon almost unwittingly? Because the official history, that of glamour and festivals, sometimes forgets the details, the twists and turns that make a life worthy of film.
Icon by force? The making of a star
To find the fifth leg of the cat, you have to start from the beginning. Claude Joséphine Rose Cardinale, as her ID stated, was born in Tunisia in 1938. The daughter of Sicilians, a girl from the community, far, far from the flashes of Rome or Paris. Her rise was meteoric in the late 1950s, in an Italy licking its wounds from war and needing to create new myths. Cardinale, with that earth-shattering Mediterranean beauty, suited them like a glove.
But here's where the curious thing begins. Unlike other divas of the time, who based everything on scandal or an overwhelming personality, Claudia Cardinale had something else. A versatility that made her stand out in an arthouse drama or a Hollywood blockbuster. However, there was a trick, an open secret that would be a scandal today: in her early Italian films, her voice, naturally deep and crackly, was dubbed. Crazy, wasn't it? The actress everyone saw wasn't the one they heard. This, which could have worked against her, added an aura of mystery to her, as if she were an unattainable character. She endured working with the biggest names of the time, guys like Federico Fellini, Luchino Visconti, and Sergio Leone, who weren't looking for a pretty face, but for a presence that filled the screen, that told a story without even opening her mouth. And she did.
The jobs that put her on the map
Claudia Cardinale 's legacy is tied to a handful of films that are now textbook. But she wasn't a star supporting actress; in each of those roles, she brought a body and a look that were key to making those films timeless.
- Rocco and His Brothers (1960): With Visconti, she played Ginetta. A supporting role, yes, but a key one to understanding the drama of a family from the south who goes to earn a living in Milan and bangs their heads against the wall. Pure real life.
- The Leopard (1963): Once again with Visconti, she made her star debut here. She was Angelica, the symbol of the new bourgeoisie who had arrived to shake up the old aristocracy. A bombshell of sensuality and ambition alongside two monsters like Alain Delon and Burt Lancaster.
- Eight and a Half (8½) (1963): In Fellini's masterpiece, she became the muse, the idealized vision of the director protagonist. She represented purity, inspiration. The question that remains is: was she her or the fantasy that a guy like Fellini had of the perfect woman? A debate over coffee.
- Once Upon a Time in the West (1968): In Sergio Leone's epic western, she proved she could handle any genre. Her Jill McBain is one of the strongest women in cinema history: a widow with more guts than all the cowboys combined, fighting alone for a piece of land. Who doesn't resonate with that?
- Fitzcarraldo (1982): She got into a filming mess in the Amazon rainforest with German director Werner Herzog, a man famous for being more complicated than a refrigerator motor. She, like Molly, brought charisma and solidity to a film that was almost unfinished. A true professional.
Between Paris and Rome: a citizen of two worlds or a foreigner everywhere?
Although her name is synonymous with Italian cinema, Claudia Cardinale's relationship with France was a separate chapter. She settled in Paris in the 1970s, and the city became her home. This dual residence enriched her career, but also placed her in an ambiguous position. For the French, she was their Italian delight, an adopted icon who spoke their language and worked with their directors. They respected her, of course, but always with that air of being "the outsider."
On the other hand, for many Italians, she was the one who "Frenchified" herself, the one who went off to seek other opportunities. This duality, far from being a problem, was perhaps the secret of her continued existence. She didn't belong anywhere, and for that very reason, she belonged to the entire world. The tribute in Paris, then, closes that circle. It's a farewell to the city that sheltered her, but also confirmation that her figure was always in transit, like a bridge between two cinematic cultures that regarded each other with suspicion and admiration.
At the end of the day, the curtain fell on Saint-Roch on a life dedicated to cinema. But the image of Claudia Cardinale , the one who struck you from the screen, will remain with us for a long time. She wasn't just an actress; she was a symbol of independence, a hard worker who paved the way with her gaze and a strength that didn't need to raise her voice. The question is whether in this world of social media and rapid consumption, there's still room for silences that, like hers, speak louder than any speech.
