THE AGREEMENT

EVERYTHING THE WORLD STOPPED PAYING ATTENTION TOBY

ALESSIA FAGIOLI GALEONE

A little hunger every day, sitting still for a few quiet minutes, really looking at someone’s face, feeding an animal. Looking up at the sky often, reading just one poem, living in silence. These were the things Michelangelo Antonioni wanted to offer his muse, Maria Luisa Ceciarelli, better known as Monica Vitti. Their love was like a glimpse of sky blending into water, a stretch of coastline they called Paradise. “When I open the door to my home, I still want to see the sea, smell its scent, hear its breath, the rustle of the wind, and the earthy fragrances of Sardinia. And yes, even the sensual pleasure of summer raindrops on my skin inside the house. I want the presence of Space and Time.” Antonioni had always felt a deep connection with Sardinian culture, their quiet way of speaking, their uncompromising nature, their loyalty. So he decided to let the film continue into real life, to extend the set into their everyday world. He gave his muse a place where La Notte, L’Eclisse, and L’Avventura could keep going. A home that would awaken all the senses. A retreat shaped like a seashell. A dome. That’s how he described his dream to architect Dante Bini, one of the most visionary minds of the 20th century. He wanted a home tucked away in the wildest, most untouched parts of Sardinia. A mysterious, breathtaking tribute, a symbol of perfect harmony set against a beautifully imperfect landscape. A livable sculpture, born from the experimental energy that fueled architecture in the ’60s and ’70s. As one of the first actresses to portray modern femininity on screen, Monica Vitti wasn’t afraid to show vulnerability. She embodied an icon of existential and modernist cinema. Charismatic in life, she once said: “In the end, there’s no joy greater than being loved instead of being someone else. In life, I played the clown, the angel, the madman, all myself, in the game of love.” After completing the “Trilogy of Alienation,” their intense, bittersweet relationship longed for a place that was both wound and symbol. A space filled with wind, light, and distance. A place built to last. Bepi Desert led them there.

In 1968, Dante Bini built a sustainable, cutting-edge structure for them, based on his own Binishell design. It was a poetic meeting of love and architecture. Antonioni, drawn to Villa Malaparte in Capri and the mood of Moretti’s La Cosa, was deeply involved in the project. He preferred to send blueprints, he wanted to touch, to feel. That’s how La Cupola was born. Not a house, but a home. Bathed in sunlight, open to the sky, filled with the scent of Gallura, crossed by wind and rain. Built mostly from local materials, its plaster was mixed with crushed pink crystals from the nearby rocks. The house had five rooms, four bathrooms, and a striking red granite staircase that cut through the living room like a deep breath. The first meeting between director and architect happened in Rome, at the apartment on Via Vincenzo Tiberio, where Monica and Michelangelo lived in two connected units, separated by a trapdoor. Climbing or descending the spiral stairs wasn’t just a move, it was a gesture. Then came the flight together, toward the Tyrrhenian Sea. As they flew over the sea, Antonioni made a pact with Bini: total discretion. No magazine covers, no publicity. Their love didn’t want an audience. But Antonioni took things further. He requested a second dome, a private space for Monica, a place where she could be alone when she needed to be. Between 1969 and 1970, the director and architect worked together in Sardinia, shaping the dream with obsessive care. Light, wind, the sound of the waves, everything had to be part of the home. The main living area, with a view of the sea, became a gathering space for artists, poets, and intellectuals like Tonino Guerra, Tarkovsky, Macha Méril, and Sergio Vacchi. The house was completed in 1971. But like all dreams, reality eventually fades them. Monica and Michelangelo’s love began to fade too. They visited the house separately, each with new lovers and new silences. And yet, before they parted, they spent some happy summers there. Then came time. Salt air wore away the plaster. The mistral wind chipped the concrete. La Cupola still stands. Quiet, alone, like a metaphysical monument. A real dream. A hidden planet among wild vegetation. La Cupola is a poetic break in the landscape. A concrete love letter. A work that combines the explosive creativity of an architect with the inward vision of a director who chose to explore the spaces of the soul, more than those of the world. And with its curved walls, even today, you can still feel the quiet longing of a love that never completely ended.