I Peed on Fellini

My only encounter with Federico Fellini occurred in a toilet. This was in 1966, when he was one of the most celebrated and admired film directors in the world. I was 26 years old and I had recently directed my first Sydney Film Festival. I was on my first visit to one of the legendary European festivals. Venice was, in fact, the oldest of all the film festivals having been founded in 1933, during the era of Mussolini and Fascism.

This being the first international film festival I'd attended, I knew nobody there. The friends I would make in the future were unknown to me then; I was a babe in the wood, a novice at the game. But waiters offered glasses of champagne and I drank a few, realising, as I did so, that I was drinking on an empty stomach, not having had the time for dinner that evening.

After about an hour of such 'star-gazing', several glasses of champagne, a few bites of canapes and the occasional desultory conversation, I felt an urgent need to find a toilet. With an increasing sense of urgency I sought a 'cabinet' and, when I finally located one, the urge had become close to desperate.

There I was at last, standing up against the porcelain, feeling a sense of relief. A man was standing next to me, a big man who looked vaguely familiar. I stole a glance at him. Could it be? It was. Urinating next to me was none other than Federico Fellini. I can only excuse what happened next because of the excitement of the occasion, the champagne and my youthful naivete. I turned towards the great man. "Mr. Fellini," I began. And I peed all over his shoes. One result of this brief, unfortunate, encounter was that I learnt a new Italian word: "Stronzo!" It means "Asshole." It was well deserved.