The hall of the Verdi Cinema where the latest film by Jeremy Irons, The Prado Museum: a collection of wonders, is about to be released, is comletely packed. Conchita Casanovas, the director of the festival, is coming to present it.
The idea is that for five or ten minutes he will summarise his professional career and then the audience will welcome him with a round of applause. So I get ready, in the hall of the cinema, to translate Conchita’s presentation exclusively for the British gentleman.
But Jeremy Irons is never alone. He is accompanied by an army of sponsors, organisers, volunteers… who talk to each other, making my work practically impossible. In the face of the growing buzz of all the people around Jeremy Irons, someone from inside the room decides to close the curtains that separate that hall from the viewing room, in order to muffle the conversations.
“Now it’s impossible to hear anything at all”, I tell Jeremy Irons. I apologise and he, with that naturalness and elegance, without giving it the slightest importance, replies: “I know absolutely everything about me. Just tell me something about you now!”
Luckily, the rest of the days and interventions pass without the slightest incident! But what a beautiful way to solve the problem, right?
