TEN YEARS WITHOUT HER FATHER FRANCO AND LUCA DE FILIPPO, BUT WITH BOTH ALWAYS BY HER: IN HER THOUGHT, IN HER GESTURES, IN THE RIGOR WITH WHICH SHE APPROACHES LIFE AND THE STAGE. ACTRESS AND GUARDIAN OF A PROFOUND LEGACY, CAROLINA ROSI TELLS HOW ONE CAN CONTINUE TO LIVE AND CREATE IN FAITHFULNESS TO THE MASTERS, TRANSFORMING MEMORY INTO STRENGTH AND EVERYDAY LIFE INTO AN ACT OF LOVE FOR ART AND LIFE.

1. Ten years without your father and Luca. Two immense figures, two presences that have marked your personal and artistic life. What has been lost—and what lives on within you, every day, in your work and in your life? Life must truly be welcomed as a gift and accepted as a loss, which comes to each of us sooner or later. I certainly miss my father and Luca, even though ten years have passed since their passing. Yet the dialogue with them continues every day, and that sense of loss I once felt doesn't take over, because in the moments when I have to make decisions and need to talk to Franco or Luca, I know they are within me. Franco was, first and foremost, a loving yet rigorous father. He understood my disappointments as a child, but also taught me to reflect, to be independent even in my decisions, and to never give up in the face of obstacles. He took my hand, guiding me to discover art, cinema, and theater. Luca was the love between a man and a woman, a profound relationship that lasted over thirty years, made of complicity, of sometimes painful decisions but lived together, of days spent enjoying the sea we both loved, or breathing in the dust of different stages, after hours of driving on the highway, discovering the dawn on the outskirts of a new city, discussing theater or commenting on the news on the radio or laughing because yes, with him I laughed a lot. Our union was also artistic; year after year we staged the works of Eduardo, but also Moliere, Pinter, Beckett, and Feydeau.

2. The value of legacy. Being the daughter of Francesco Rosi and partner of Luca De Filippo means having breathed in art, discipline, and thought. How do you carry on such a great legacy without being crushed by it, but rather transforming it into new creative energy? Luca had the wisdom and mannerisms of my father. Both left me with a love of life and a sense of cultured and intelligent irony that they shared. I strive every day to keep my feet on the ground. To be practical and humble like Luca, like Franco, but above all to be Carolina with my character, with the desire to enjoy every moment. I know well that what appears to be impetuousness hides a fragility that I accept, because that too defines me; I believe I have reached a maturity that today allows me to make thoughtful choices, such as dedicating myself above all to my farm, Scovaventi. This connection with the earth, with its cycles, its creativity, its strength, never ceases to amaze me. To surprise me.

3. The teachings of the masters. Your father and Luca were two very different artists, but united by a profound vision of humanity and the world. Is there a lesson—or a gesture—that you feel you've embraced and that accompanies you at crucial moments in your career? Luca said he'd found in Franco a mentor like Eduardo had been. I see them as my mentors, in the rigor with which I approach every problem, in the sense of responsibility I have within me that doesn't let me stop even when I want to give up. I look forward, I never throw in the towel.

4. Theater as a place of memory and rebirth. With Luca De Filippo's Company, you continue a theatrical legacy rooted in Eduardo's genius. What does theater mean to you today? Is it still a place of healing, remembering, and reinventing oneself? Eduardo said he didn't believe those who said "theater is dead." Eduardo and Franco, despite belonging to different generations, were truly similar in their ability to observe the world and themselves, in their capacity for outrage, in their ability to give themselves completely, one on stage, the other behind the camera. For me, theater is a place of the soul, but also a space where it is possible to demolish all censorship, where it is possible to invite oneself and the audience to reflect, to decide, to choose. This is why I'm staging Luca's latest play, Non ti pago, to remember Luca but also for myself.

5. Carolina's private life. Away from the stage and the lights, who is Carolina Rosi today? What are your rituals, your moments of silence, the little things that make you feel close to the people you love and to the profound meaning of your profession? Away from the stage, I retreat to my Roman home, where I rediscover my roots, my childhood. Then, whenever I can, I escape to my Tuscan home among my olive trees. To feel good, all I need is the presence of friends with whom I can share a good glass of wine and some delicious cheese to dip in our homemade chili-flavored honey. It's enough to join my colleagues in the olive or eggplant harvest. And when the ostro, the warm southern wind, blows, I close my eyes for just a moment, searching for the voices of those I loved. The ostro envelops me, and I see them again, sitting next to me, confused in the sunset, while once again they whisper: "Come on, keep going!"

6. The future and new projects. Is there a new chapter you're writing, a project that excites you and that you feel is in continuity with—or breaks with—your family and artistic history? Every chapter we live simultaneously marks rupture and continuity, tradition and innovation, to use Eduardo's words. For me, a new chapter begins when I'm moved by a project, an idea; when I manage to blend my love for the land with my love for the theater, offering my experience today as a woman, an entrepreneur, and an actress, on the threshold of my sixtieth birthday.

7. A look back. Looking back on your career in film, theater, and life, what do you think is the greatest gift you've received from the extraordinary people you've been close to—and what do you wish to leave to new generations of actors and audiences? As I said, I believe the most important lesson has been to always approach life as a gift, experiencing what happens with curiosity, being moved by a story or by little things, respecting others, but also being outraged, never giving in to anything that might impinge on my freedom of thought. To the new generations of actors and spectators, I invite you to study, to learn about our cinema, our theater, to embrace the ability of those who came before us to rebel against power, to always feel like citizens and never slaves.