Giovanni Volpi

My favorite time of year in Venice is January when it is grey and cool and relatively empty. I have been going there for years, usually timed to my attendance at the Gran Premio d'Italia at Monza. But when I can, I prefer to visit in quieter times when I can engage in chance encounters and off-the-record conversations with people who can afford to tell me the truth because I am a complete stranger.

When I first heard the name Volpi, it was associated with a racing endeavor and a unique example of a Ferrari that had been made over by the designer of the most famous racing Ferrari ever. At Volpi's request, the designer went Ferrari one better. The creation would become known as the Breadvan, which was owned for several years by a close friend of mine.

The next time Volpi's name reached my ears was from Tony Ford of the William Morris Agency in Beverly Hills. His off-hand comment was that they hold the Venice Film Festival in his (Volpi's) house; grandiloquent paraphrasing, I think you'll agree.

More recently, I read John Berendt's The City of Falling Angels, which I'd hoped would go on forever. Volpi made an appearance. He appeared again later in the book making a gesture that usually only happens in fiction.

Perhaps I like Venice in the cool of January because I've spent too much time in the desert making movies in one hundred twenty degree heat. Perhaps it's because I might, God willing, run into Volpi and enjoy what would promise to be a grown-up discussion of the world and my favorite city.

It is also possible that my thoughts are going in this direction having heard a message from Désespérée on the hotel voicemail. She has hooked up with a Nigerian funk band and wants my help to launch them in the States--something my post-Bop frame of mind precludes on general principles.