 In 1996, Marcello Mastroianni talks about life as an actor. It s an anecdotal and philosophical memoir, moving from topic to topic, fully conscious of a man ^Óof a certain age^Ô looking back. He tells stories about Fellini and De Sica s direction, of using irony in performances, of constantly working (an actor tries to find himself in characters). He s diffident about prizes, celebrates Rome and Paris, salutes Naples and its people. He answers the question, why make bad films; recalls his father and grandfather, carpenters, his mother, deaf in her old age, and his brother, a film editor; he s modest about his looks. In repose, time s swift passage holds Mastroianni inward gaze.