Felice Laudadio

Years ago, an impulsive young Communist movie critic named Felice Laudadio dreamed up a festival to promote his pet cause--defending European cinema against the onslaught of Hollywood. The annual gathering would unveil quality art films exclusively from Europe. It would be in Rimini, on Italy's Adriatic coast, in the hope of attracting Federico Fellini, the famous director who lived there. "Almost all my friends rolled their eyes," the critic recalls. Too ambitious, they said.

Years ago, an impulsive young Communist movie critic named Felice Laudadio dreamed up a festival to promote his pet cause--defending European cinema against the onslaught of Hollywood. The annual gathering would unveil quality art films exclusively from Europe. It would be in Rimini, on Italy's Adriatic coast, in the hope of attracting Federico Fellini, the famous director who lived there. "Almost all my friends rolled their eyes," the critic recalls. Too ambitious, they said.

Italy beckoned German filmmaker Margarethe von Trotta six years ago. Known abroad for her intense dramas that focus on passionate, complex women ("Marianne and Juliane" in 1981, "Rosa Luxemburg" in 1986), she has made three films in Italy since moving permanently to Rome.

When Mayor Sonny Bono launched the Palm Springs International Film Festival last year with gusts of hyperbole that it would become the Cannes of the West Coast, some people scoffed that the mayor was simply having a few of his old Hollywood friends out for a clambake at the desert community's expense.

Margarethe von Trotta's beautiful, stirring love story "The Promise" reveals, through the lives of one young couple, the profound impact the Berlin Wall had on all Germans, East and West alike. It is a splendid example of classic screen storytelling by a renowned international filmmaker, a work of strength and simplicity that illuminates with flawless craftsmanship many complex issues and contradictions.

Carine Adler stood nervously on the Lido beachfront surveying the crowd, her debut minutes away. Great, the director thought. A hip young audience for her hip feature film, "Under the Skin." Then she spotted the nun. Adler and Kate Ogborn, her producer, looked at each other, then back at the nun, who was in line with a ticket and wearing a habit. "You tell her!" Ogborn said. "Tell her not to go in!" Their panic was understandable.

The relationship between movies and film festivals is like dating. They look each other over, and occasionally there is great chemistry. Such was the case when the provocative Irish feature "Conspiracy of Silence" connected with the Taormina Film Festival, Italy's second-largest film event. It was an instant love match that sent sparks flying all the way to the Vatican.