"…From the saints I must take the substance, not the accidents of their virtues. I am not St. Aloysius, nor must I seek holiness in his particular way, but according to the requirements of my own nature, my own character and the different conditions of my life. I must not be the dry, bloodless reproduction of a model, however perfect. God desires us to follow the examples of the saints by absorbing the vital sap of their virtues and turning it into our own life-blood, adapting it to our own individual capacities and particular circumstances. If St. Aloysius had been as I am, he would have become holy in a different way…"
The thing that is always so surprising about plays written in another century is how remarkably elastic they are. When you listen to the way in which Shakespeare attacks relationships, for example, even though the words may start off sounding foreign, in actuality they are so accessible, the motivations so clear, the resonances so contemporary. When you put it in a modern context - we could well be in a place with someone like Gaddafi or Mubarak - it becomes apparent how Richard III resonates with that type of personality, with media and manipulation, alliances and petty jealousies.
Alle mie nozze d’argento, la mia povera mamma non si rendeva conto che era una celebrazione dopo tanti anni, dovette credere che si trattasse del mio matrimonio e così mi chiese “Chi te sposi, figlio mio?” e io, ovviamente, le risposi “Erminia, mamma”. E lei: “Che bella scelta, figlio mio! È proprio una brava ragazza. Vedrai quanti anni felici passerete insieme!” E, naturalmente, pur nella sua confusione tra passato e futuro, aveva ragione…
Nino Manfredi (Castro dei Volsci, 22 marzo 1921 – Roma, 4 giugno 2004)