"Today, Italian cinema claims to mourn the passing of Ettore Scola, a director of extraordinary greatness. In reality, it is the public who mourn him. That public who adored his films, who cried, laughed, dreamed and reflected thanks to him. That public who would gladly have seen more of his films. I met Scola a few years ago at a ceremony at the Campidoglio. He was courteous to me and I plucked up the courage to say to him: "Scola, how I’d love to make a film with you!". He smiled and replied: ‘Magalli, how I’d love to make a film!’. There you have it: behind his usual irony lay the pain of a film industry that had cast him aside, instead of queuing up at his door to beg him to work again. So it is right and proper that the public should mourn him, and he would appreciate it, but the film industry—that film industry—should not mourn Scola. It should mourn itself and its own indolence. Farewell, Maestro."