Philippe Noiret, a Frenchman full of art de vivre and liberty, adopted Italy and was adopted by Italians after appearing on screen directed by Marco Ferreri and Mario Monicelli. Noiret was a performer. He belongs to the theatre tradition of Molière and the Commedia dell’Arte. He was the best student of two schools that had nothing in common, but were marvellously complementary, the ‘cabaret’ and the French Popular National Theatre created by Jean Vilar. He added his name next to those of Jean Gabin and Gérard Philippe, then became a star. He started acting in Louis Malle’s Zazie in the Metro and then became famous for his role in Blissful Alexander by Yves Robert (original French title Alexandre le Bienheureux) in 1968. He then played the leading male role in Hitchcock’s Topaz and in some notable French movies like Le Vieux Fusil (about the vengeance of a man whose family was killed by occupying German forces) co-starring Romy Schneider, and in Les Ripoux that made him a silver screen giant in France.
His career in the Italian cinema started in the early 70s. He starred in Monicelli’s Amici Miei that he particularly treasured, Marco Ferreri’s Non Toccare la Donna Bianca, Francesco Rosi’s Dimenticare Palermo, Ettore Scola’s La Famiglia, Giuseppe Tornatore’s Nuovo Cinema Paradiso and more recently in Michael Radford’s Il Postino among other films. He passionately loved all things Italian: people, actors, women, shirts, cuisine, stones, towns, the language and paintings. We met quite often and ensured that we would never keep our meetings in between. With his wife Monique Chaumette, he came to our home in the Champagne region for lunch every Saturday. In Paris, at other times, we dined in a small restaurant situated between the Eiffel Tower and the Champs de Mars. I’m sure that were he amongst us, he would have visited us in Malta and would have loved this country.
Philippe Noiret passed away on 23 November 2006. It is still a difficult memory that lingers in my mind. I had entered his bed room, he was bedridden, with Monique Chaumette. That is when we realised that he had left us most discreetly. Cinema continues to keep him alive in our eyes. Nobody can forget the inimitable way he wore tweeds, socks, pocket handkerchiefs, shirts, cashmere sweaters and brogue shoes. Suits and shoes were not just accessories of a gent punctilious in his elegance. In the shape of a boot, in the pattern of a shirt collar, he sought to see the hand of the craftsman who, in his atélier, had worked patiently. His quest for perfection was also a matter of generosity and of truth.
He was both discreet and gentle. Despite the media spotlight on him, he was neither blinded by his fame nor by others especially not by people in power. He had a singular art of using words, spoken in a voice that added colour, warmth and movement to everything that it pronounced. He was silent when he wished to be, but his silence stifled the buzz people make around him. Keen on being witty, ready to revel in the adroitly chosen word, but he could be abrupt if need arose and always contagiously discreet.
In Paris, we were neighbours. I often noticed from my window, passers-by who greeted him with a smile or a timid wave. He replied by tipping his hat. Philippe Noiret was a man of quality.
His off and onscreen voice was one and the same. I had met him in 1992 and remained very close from then through long years of friendship, of shared pain and pleasures. One could never get bored with him. He worked a lot and well. He knew Hollywood, Cinecitta`, the French countryside, the public squares of Rome and Palermo, loved Andalusian thorough-breds and Havana cigars. It is this imposing actor and remarkable man, my Italian colleague and friend, Paolo Trabalza and I, would like to invite you to discover or re-discover.
Daniel Rondeau
Ambassador of France