Valeria Golino is an acclaimed Italian actress and filmmaker. Born in Naples, Italy, she grew up between Greece and Italy and is one of the most internationally recognized Italian figures in cinema, fluent in Italian, Greek, French, and English. To English-language audiences, she is most famous for her prominent roles in late '80s and early '90s American films, including Rain Man (1988), Big Top Pee-wee (1988), and the parody comedies Hot Shots! (1991) and Hot Shots! Part Deux (1993). She holds the rare distinction of being one of only four actresses to have won the prestigious Volpi Cup for Best Actress twice at the Venice Film Festival (for Storia d'amore in 1986 and Per amor vostro in 2015). She has starred in celebrated European projects such as Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) and prominent television series like Apple TV+'s The Morning Show. Golino has also found critical success behind the camera, directing well-received films like Miele (2013) and Euforia (2018), as well as the 2024 drama series L'Arte della Gioia (The Art of Joy).

When did you realise you were beautiful?

Laughs. That's such a tricky question, but a nice one. I started thinking I was pretty when I was very young, around 11 or 12. But I never really felt beautiful myself. I simply believed the people who told me I was. As a child, then as an adolescent and a young woman, people kept telling me I was attractive, and I believed them. I never thought, “I am beautiful.” I just thought, “Other people think I am beautiful.”

You grew up between Greece and Italy, in an artistic and intellectual family. Why did you go to Chicago as a child?

I had very advanced scoliosis, which was discovered when I was 12—not by my parents, but by my father's wife. It's always other people who discover things. Parents never notice anything, even when you have a toothache. She saw that my body was leaning to one side, so we went to Bologna, then to Lyon, to different medical centres specialising in spinal problems. Eventually we found a hospital in Chicago. My Greek mother had relatives there, because Chicago has a large Greek community, and they had found a specific hospital, Shriners Hospital for Crippled Children. That's where I went.

Were you in a lot of pain?

Yes, of course. The operation was difficult, and the recovery was hard. Before the operation I was in some pain, yes.

Was Chicago also where you learned English?

Yes, it was. Although I had already been exposed to English, Chicago was where I really learned it.

You became a model in Athens and then an actress very young. You never went to acting school, did you?

No. I met Lina Wertmüller the Italian film director through a family friend, the actress Goliarda Sapienza, and she gave me my first film when I was almost 17. I was still a minor.

Did you love cinema already?

We were cinephiles at home. My mother was a great film lover and took us to the movies twice a week, even when we were children. She was a single mother with two children and loved cinema, so she thought, “I'm going to teach you to love it too, so I'll always have somewhere to take you.” And we did. My older brother was a huge cinephile. Those were the 1970s, and when I was about ten I followed him to see all these American movies coming out. It was wonderful.

You spoke Greek as well as Italian?

Yes. We lived in Naples first, then Athens for four years, then back to Naples and Sorrento, where my father had moved, and then back to Athens. When I was a little over 16, I eventually made the Lina Wertmüller film and moved to Rome.

In Greece, are you considered a Greek actress as well as an Italian one?

I suppose not as much as I should be. People in Greece, particularly in show business, know that I am a Greek-Italian actress, and there is a certain pride in that, but when I walk around Athens, I don't get recognised in the way I might in Italy or elsewhere. Greeks don't really care who I am. Laughs. I care about Greeks.

In 1986 you won the Volpi Cup in Venice for Storia d'amore. Then, in 2015, you won it again for Per amor vostro. What happened after that first prize?

I was 21 and working in Italy. After the prize in Venice, I was riding a wave of success. I did a screen test and was chosen for an American movie. I went to America to make one film and then I met someone, fell in love, and started working there. I eventually stayed for 12 years instead of 3 months.

You had to do many screen tests for Rain Man, and you got the part.

I did. It was one of those things where timing, good energy with the director, Barry Levinson, and a good feeling with the actors all came together. I also put a lot of energy and joy into the work, but I never had the American dream. I wasn't there desperately trying to make it. I made one movie in Hollywood and thought, “Okay, I'll go back and make my very left-wing auteur films in Italy.” I was attracted to that, but then they started calling me to make more movies in America. What I'm trying to say is that I didn't want it so badly that it became an obsession. I had a certain lightness, perhaps because I was very young.

Many Italian and European actresses have gone to Hollywood and then returned to Europe. Why did you come back?

In those 12 years I worked a lot — perhaps 17 or 18 movies. When I left, I was still working. I didn't leave because I was having difficulties; I left almost at the wrong moment, but I had realised something. I had done work I was proud of and met people who taught me a lot. There were so many talented people, and I grew artistically through those experiences.

But you didn't like the system?.

Yes. I have great affection for Los Angeles. I made very good friends there, people I still adore and who are important to me. But it was the system. The system obliges you to work constantly in order to maintain a certain level of comfort, and that is not why I am an actress. I'm not an actress because I want luxury or a swimming pool. Those things may be consequences of success, but if you have to keep working and working simply to maintain that lifestyle, it isn't for me. I realised I didn't want to live very, very well and work very, very hard just to keep living very, very well.

Were you an actress by chance, or did you discover that you truly loved the profession?

I became an actress by chance — chance with a capital C. A lot of things happened to make that Chance possible. It wasn't as if, at 14, I had this sacred fire saying, “I will be an actress.” No. It all happened very easily and was almost decided by other people. My parents were neutral about it. They weren't enthusiastic and they weren't against it. They wanted to see what I felt and whether I really wanted to do it. So yes, I became an actress by Chance, but I continued by Choice. I like being an actress, and now I like directing even more.

You've been directing for about 15 years?

Yes. I've started directing films, and it gives me even more joy, although I'm still acting a lot. In fact, I'm probably acting more now than when I was 30. That says something about the position of women and women artists today. Thirty years ago, a woman in her 60s could never have said that. You were already being pushed towards smaller roles. Instead, I am as busy now — and, I would say, better busy — than I was at 30. Something is getting better for women, and I wanted to say that because we always talk as if everything is getting worse.

What still gives you pleasure in acting?

I still love my job. I'm somehow enchanted by it when I'm doing it. The promotional side, the more superficial structure around the profession, is necessary, but less pleasurable for me. But I still find the work itself a privilege — interpreting somebody else's story through the eyes of a director, or being the person who looks at others and tries to make them create a character, a world, a story.

At Venice this year you have two films, Nessun dolore and Serpenti. How do you move from one character to another?

When it works, and when you have done the two roles well, it can be very exciting to see them close together and so completely different. I've been in that situation before. When it is good, it is thrilling. When it is so-so, I cringe a little. Laughs. And by “so-so” I mean myself.

What makes the difference?

Many things. The director, the writing, yourself at that particular moment. Sometimes you are shining, and sometimes you are opaque in that moment, a little out of focus. Sometimes people look at you, but they don't really see you. They don't find the thing they need to catch in you.

So sometimes you simply do the best you can?

Exactly. You do what you can. Maybe you did the movie for the wrong reasons, or perhaps you weren't looked at closely enough by the director. Sometimes you are simply not in the right place emotionally. You still work professionally, but something may be missing.

Are you still anxious before a premiere?

Always, a little. You are exposing something. Not only your work; sometimes you are exposing a little part of your soul, something that might normally remain private, because the work asks you to reveal it. So you can feel anxious or shy about it. At the same time, if you like what you've done, there is excitement: “Let's see what people are going to think. Will they feel the same thing?” And there are other times when you know something isn't working and you still have to defend the film. You are there to defend it, and I will.

What if you have two films in competition at the same festival?

I try to be as professional as I can, not to show that I love one more than the other, and to be gracious. Making a film is a huge amount of work for everyone. You wake up incredibly early, you spend hours in make-up, you're cold in winter while dressed as if it were summer. You get tired, you get hot or cold, your memory isn't good enough and you don't do a scene well, you don't eat when you should because there is no time. That's our work.

And all that effort doesn't necessarily make a good film.

Exactly. The best intentions don't make a good movie. A good movie happens when many things come together and everything falls into place. Because I have empathy for everyone who makes a film, I try to be fair, but when a movie is genuinely good, that's another story. When you present it at a festival or premiere, you can feel the vibration of the people watching. You feel that you've done something that may be useful — not practically, perhaps, but useful to the soul. Cinema can make you change your mind.

Have you ever feared that your career was over?

Not really. I'm sure that during these 40 years there have been moments when I've been down or unhappy with my work. I've also taken time off because I wasn't happy with what was being offered, but I've been lucky enough never to fear that I wouldn't work again. I've never thought, “This is the end. Nobody wants me anymore.” And now, as an older woman, I also have a certain authority.

You have that authority partly because you know cinema so well and became a director. How did L'Arte della Gioia come about?

The series comes from the novel by Goliarda Sapienza. She is a very important figure for me, and there is a long thread connecting her to my world. She was married to Citto Maselli, who directed the film for which I won my first Volpi Cup, and she was also a friend of Lina Wertmüller. For the series, I chose Valeria Bruni Tedeschi for one of the lead roles. The young actress who plays the central character, Tecla Insolia, was incredible. She was 18 when we made it, and everyone was amazed by her work. As a director, that was extremely rewarding for me.

Why did you become a director?

Because I want to be in power. Laughs. I want to make the decisions now. No, seriously, I became a director because, even as a young girl, I thought about cinema not only as an interpreter but as a form: the light, the frame, the shot, the way a scene is constructed. Even when I was 18 or 19 I was always curious about how something had been made. I have a real passion for the aesthetics of cinema. I started directing rather late — I was 45 — but I had always wanted to do it.

How many films have you directed?

I've directed two short films, two feature films, and one six-episode series, The Art of Joy. And now I'm trying to write my third film.

What is it about?

I'm trying to write it. Laughs. I'm very slow because my work as an actress takes away a lot of my creative energy. When you're doing a difficult role, it's hard to write at the same time, so I move slowly as a director. Next year I'll be doing another four films as an actress.

You seem very busy. And often you work with friends. That must give you a sense of belonging.

It does. I think a sense of belonging is very important in life.

Is there jealousy among friends who are also actors?

I'm sure there has been. There are moments of jealousy; it's part of friendship. But not rivalry in a bad way. I've never really had an episode of serious rivalry — or at least I don't remember one. Laughs.

When you first worked in Rain Man with Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman, were you shy?

No, not at all. I had a strange sense of entitlement then. I thought everything was normal for me. I was more presumptuous when I was young. Eventually life showed me that it isn't necessarily so.

Later did you feel nervous around famous actors?

Years later. For example, when I went back to America to make The Morning Show. It was a very successful series with Reese Witherspoon, Jennifer Aniston and Steve Carell. I had a big role in the second season, and I was the only foreigner in the cast. It was during COVID, and I spent five months in Los Angeles. I was working with these huge stars again, and I realised I was more nervous at 55 than I had been at 19, 20 or 21.

Why?

Perhaps because I suddenly felt that I didn't quite belong. I was a fish out of water. Things had changed. I had gone back to a city that was completely different, and COVID had changed everything. People were very conscious of how close they were to one another, and we had to work in a particular way. Even though I was more nervous than the first time, I had a wonderful time. I worked a lot with Steve Carell, who is an incredible actor — skilled, funny and sophisticated. Most of my scenes were with him, and I learned a lot.

Which actors have impressed you most?

The first time I worked with Sean Penn, I was very impressed. He was an icon to me as an actor, and he was directing his first film. He eventually became a very close friend, so I'm not impressed by him anymore. Laughs. Familiarity breeds contempt. When I worked with Gary Oldman, I was also very impressed. There are moments when you really see talent.

What about European actors?

Of course, there are many. The first time I worked in a Lina Wertmüller film, there was Ugo Tognazzi. I played his daughter. For my brother, my mother and all the cinephiles in my family, Ugo Tognazzi was almost a semi-god. We thought he was one of the most incredible actors, which he was. I was very impressed by him as a child. I'm also always impressed when I watch Valeria Bruni Tedeschi work. She is one of my best friends, but I still look at her and think, “God, this woman is on another level.”

You are impressed by talent, not fame?

Exactly. I'm impressed by talent. When I meet a great musician or a great writer, I'm impressed. Power doesn't necessarily impress me. Very rich people don't impress me. I'm curious about them, but I'm not impressed. Talent — and beauty — can impress me like that.

You've mostly had relationships with people from the film world.

Most of the time, yes, although I haven't had that many stories in my life. I've been a very good girl. Laughs. Very long relationships with very few people. But yes, they were actors. Nobody's perfect.

You never married a banker or a scientist?

No. I never had a rich husband, which I now really regret. I should have. God damn it. When I could have, I should have married a very rich man. Laughs.

But you've always been independent.

Yes, I have, and I don't think being independent is necessarily right or wrong. I think I simply followed my nature, and this is what it is. I'm sure I've made compromises and all that, but I never had to do something that seriously compromised my conscience. Never. And for that I thank God.

Are you religious?

I don't have the gift of faith, but I'm always very open, curious and respectful towards people who do. I'm agnostic. I'm atheist.

So you live with doubt?

Always. Doubt is my king. I obey doubt only.

You've won many awards. Do they matter to you?

I've won many. I won't show you any of them because I don't know where they are. Laughs.

When I interviewed Sophia Loren, I saw her Oscars and Lions everywhere. You are different.

If I were Sophia Loren, I would probably do the same. But I'm not. I'm just a regular person. Sophia Loren is something else entirely. My personality is different. I don't have a picture of myself anywhere in the house.

Are you proud of yourself?

Sometimes. Not always. I don't have a huge amount of respect for myself, generally. I often feel like the child at school who is told, “She could do so well, but…” I'm never enough. I don't feel completely happy with myself, but I don't hate myself either.

Do you feel you have lived your life well?

I don't feel that I've wasted my life at all, but I do feel I could have done better. Every day, I could do better. At the same time, I have a tendency to be enchanted by things. I really appreciate things, and I think that is a form of love for life.

You still have a sense of childhood and wonder?

I think if you lose childhood and innocence, somehow you lose yourself. A lot of my childhood has stayed with me. It never left, and I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. As an artist, I'm attracted to women and men who have kept that part of themselves — the way they look at things, what makes them happy, their curiosity. I'm attracted to that, and I suppose I still have it too.

Do you still see great young directors and actors coming through?

Yes, absolutely. They are there, and they are coming. It's a difficult moment, though. I sometimes struggle, as a middle-aged woman, to find my motivation for telling stories because of what is happening around us and the sense of emptiness I sometimes feel. I don't want to start that whole conversation now Laughs but I don't think it will be my generation that solves it. There are new talents who will make cinema and storytelling interesting again. They are already doing it. There is talent around.

Would you also describe yourself as generous.

I like to think I am. I like thinking of myself as a generous person, and because I like to think that, I try to be generous — to prove it, in a way. I think generous people have to want to be generous.

Good luck with the four films — and with the secret projects.

Thank you. And also with the film I'm writing as a director.

Then we need another interview when those projects are ready.

Yes. We do.

Good luck with everything, and good luck in Venice.

Thank you so much.