Well, I was searching a thread about her, and I didn't find one, so I create it 'cause I think this actress is such a beautiful woman, gorgeous, pure. She's both elegant and sexy, she's got a "je ne sais quoi" very awesome...
Indeed, with a mother like her (Catherine Deneuve) she couldn't be ugly of course!
Here's some pics :
Chiara Mastroianni is the daughter of the movie icon Catherine Deneuve. But, she tells Fiona Morrow, she is escaping the parental shadow and carving out her own film career
16 March 2004
There's no escaping Chiara Mastroianni's genes. The daughter of two of European cinema's most beloved icons - Catherine Deneuve and Marcello Mastroianni - looks as fabulous as you would expect. Her face is a curious composite of her parents': her mother's bone structure married to the softer, lazier features of her father. The effect is unquestionably beautiful, but Mastroianni wears it casually. Such lineage must be a hard act to follow.
Now 32, she has been acting for some time. Her career to date has been low-key, characterised by small parts in interesting projects such as Robert Altman's Prêt à Porter, Raoul Ruiz's Time Regained and Mike Figgis's Hotel. Her latest performance, in Delphine Gleize's debut feature, Carnages, is similarly offbeat. The role gives her the chance to show her quirky, comedic side, and provides evidence that Mastroianni picked up more than good looks from her parents. In the film, she plays Carlotta, a struggling actress fast losing sight of her own identity. She attends rebirthing workshops, standing naked among strangers in a swimming-pool while trying to find her inner scream. Her character desires change that goes beyond the psychological: she's in the process of having moles sliced from her skin.
Like much of Mastroianni's work, Carnages is an ensemble piece. It interweaves a clutch of disparate characters all connected by the remains of a bull killed in the ring - Carlotta finds herself dressed in a flamenco costume as part of a supermarket promotion to flog the beast's skeleton to dog-owners. Gleize's eye is at once cinematic, earthy and surreal - Carnages is unlike any film you've seen.
"The script made sense to me," Mastroianni shrugs when I ask what drew her to such an unusual project. "Sure, there are a lot of characters all living their own stories, but I have read many more conventional scripts that I had to reread because I completely lost the point. Carnages just made sense."
Alongside the clarity of the writing, Mastroianni also welcomed the chance to play such a fanciful character. "Most of the parts I'd been offered were straightforward people with a dark side," she says. "Carlotta has a craziness about her that is both bizarre and disturbing - and often funny."
Despite being attracted by Carlotta's humour, Mastroianni also found that facet of her personality daunting. "It was scary," she admits with a giggle. "The rhythm of comedy is so different - it was easy to make her crazy, but to make her funny as well was hard. Carlotta is not quite finished. She has some way to go to become formed. She doesn't really know who she is and she is searching - I think that she is really just a child. I mean, having her moles cut off to be rid of her parents? She doesn't want to be reminded of them, but they are written all over her."
The fact that Mastroianni's skin is speckled with moles is a coincidence, and she insists that the part was not written with her in mind. She admits that her close physical similarity to her character made the role uncomfortable to play, having also gone through periods of wanting rid of her visible imperfections. She starts to laugh. "My mole trauma stems from a different place. All children hate them - they point and say things like: 'You've got chocolate on your face.' When I was a child, and as a teenager, I was ashamed of my skin. I saw many doctors about the possibility of getting rid of them but I never actually took the step to have the surgery."
How does she feel about them now? "Oh," she smiles, "we've reached a peaceful cohabitation. I think that although I felt physically different because of them, I knew deep down that they were a part of my identity."
Mastroianni married the French electronica musician Benjamin Biolay three years ago, and the couple have a 10-month-old daughter, Anna. Chiara also has a seven-year-old son, Milo, from a previous relationship, but still found being pregnant for the second time, with Anna, a difficult experience. "It's supposed to be so natural," she sighs, "and you're supposed to know what is going on, yet it can feel so strange having this life inside you."
After Carnages, there are no new acting projects on the horizon. She has, however, been diversifying, "singing and writing a little" on a record under the band name Home. "It started off at home, more like a game," she tells me, a sense of excitement in her voice. "And now we are going to release an album in April." She giggles when I ask her if this is a calculated career move. "I really didn't think of it that way - it was just something that I found both strange and interesting to do."
Mastroianni shrugs off the notion that music might become a significant part of her life. For the moment, domestic responsibilities are her priority, and the birth of Anna has given her time to ruminate further on the parent-child bond.
"In Carnages, Carlotta is always talking about not being a part of your parents because you are your own person, but this is a bit skewed," she suggests. "I know that the bond with your parents is very complicated and I'm in the process of working that out with my son. You want to be yourself and yet you are from your parents and nothing can change that."
This statement brings us neatly round to where we began. I ask her how she feels when interviewers look at her and see only her parents. The question furrows her beautiful brow. "Any film I am in, if the character says anything about their father, all the journalists ask me if this is how I feel about my father. It's as if they think I've written the script, or I look for characters that are about me."
Mastroianni's famous lineage has caused her to adopt diversionary tactics to maintain her privacy. "I've reached a point where I have a few tried and tested things that I say," she admits. "It may make me sound cynical, but I find that any little thing I might share is overanalysed. If I said, for example - and I'm only saying this as an example - that I used to go skiing with my father, then the picture drawn is not of a little girl holidaying with her dad, but of 'oh, the famous Italian actor used to ski'. But if you told me something about your parents," she smiles, "I would only listen to what you were saying, and that would be what the conversation was about."
"It's sad really," she adds quietly. "Because I think that if my parents were more anonymous, then I would share more. But I don't want to be overanalysed, so instead I choose to protect myself."
I'll grow back like a starfish...
I haven't heard of her, but when I first read the title of the thread, I was thinking, "FRENCH? Her name is purely Italian!" but it makes sense if she were the daughter of Catherine Deneuve. I don't think she's THAT gorgeous (her mother is lovely!) but perhaps when she was younger...
It's funny because me, precisely unlike you both, I prefer her now. Younger she was too plump, her face was round and a big fat... And as blonde, she's greater than dark haired, no?
Well, maybe you'll prefer her husband!? (lol) :
I put some new pics and an interview of Benjamin Biolay from the NY Times
Le Pop Star - The New York Times (27 mars 2005) (part 1)
Benjamin Biolay sat, shoulders hunched, in a smoky, cluttered recording studio on the outskirts of Paris. He had just returned from a month's vacation with his wife, Chiara Mastroianni (daughter of the cinematic titans Catherine Deneuve and Marcello Mastroianni), at Deneuve's country house in Normandy. He should have appeared refreshed, but instead he looked as if he had spent the month in this windowless room, chain-smoking cigarettes and contemplating the cruelty of life. The French, after all, can seem mean and aloof when they're really just feeling shy, and Biolay is no exception. He knows that he can come off as con, meaning ''jerk'' or ''jerklike'' -- the French conveniently use the word as a noun and an adjective -- when he doesn't intend to.
But Biolay makes the look work. With his wavy brown hair, soulful brown eyes and sensual pout, he strikes many who meet him as painfully handsome. In this way, he couldn't be less like the man he has been compared with a lot lately: Serge Gainsbourg, the big-eared, baggy-eyed, perpetually hungover hero of French pop. As the 78-year-old chanteuse and former Gainsbourg collaborator Juliette Gréco put it: ''Benjamin is beautiful. Serge was not.''
Nonetheless, Gainsbourg did manage to revolutionize the French music scene in the 1960's, taking chanson -- the song style of Edith Piaf -- and turning it into something innovative and daring. Thirty years later, Biolay has done much the same thing, with four albums in as many years -- ''Rose Kennedy,'' ''Négatif,'' ''Home'' and, out next week, ''À L'Origine'' -- that rethink French song through just about every other musical genre. Like Gainsbourg before him, Biolay styles himself as more than just a singer -- he's also a songwriter, producer and composer. The similarities don't end there. Both men had musician fathers who trained them in classical music. Both married actresses with whom they then recorded albums. And both wrote songs for others before figuring out they could sing them just as well themselves.
Music critics can't help forging supernatural links between the two, claiming that Biolay is channeling Gainsbourg and ''comes on like Serge Gainsbourg reincarnated.'' But for his part, Biolay has had enough of all the Gainsbourg talk. ''It gets tiring,'' he said, strumming a guitar and looking appropriately fatigued during a break from producing his sister Coralie Clément's second album. (A song from her first, ''Salle des Pas Perdus'' [''Room of Missteps''] was part of the soundtrack for the Jack Nicholson-Diane Keaton romantic comedy, ''Something's Gotta Give.'') ''One day a journalist asked me which French singer I really admired,'' Biolay continued. ''I felt pressure to come up with a name, so I said Gainsbourg. Ever since, I've been 'the next Serge Gainsbourg.' But I don't really even think I sound like him. And he was a very sad man. He was immature, very childlike in many ways. Complained a lot. And he didn't have any success until his 40's.''
In fact, the 32-year-old Biolay would just as soon not be compared with any French singers at all. ''As a kid,'' he said, ''I really didn't like most of them. The ones I did respect, like Gainsbourg, sounded more American to me than French. You could tell they didn't listen to much French music.'' As Biolay sees it, he's not really making French music. He doesn't even like French music.
Of the new generation, Biolay and his former partner, the Israeli-born Keren Ann, who just released a new album, ''Nolita,'' have had the most critical success in the United States. Ann could easily pass for the auburn-haired reincarnation of Hardy (with whom, incidentally, Biolay sings a duet on the coming ''À L'Origine''). Ann sings in French and English and regularly appears at Joe's Pub in New York City. Biolay produced and helped write all the songs on her well-received first album, ''La Biographie De Luka Philipsen.'' Its best-known song, ''Jardin d'Hiver'' (''Winter Garden''), a hit in France, was originally written for the jazz crooner Henri Salvador, who was a star in the 1930's. ''I've always admired Henri for writing very pretty and jazzy songs, so we sent it to him, hoping he would sing it,'' Biolay told me. ''He took so long to get back to us, we just decided to have Keren sing it. Then Henri called and said, 'J'adore!' So both of them ended up singing it on their albums.''
Salvador's ''Chambre Avec Vue'' (''Room With a View'') sold more than one million copies in Europe and includes four songs written and composed by Biolay and Ann. The album's success got them noticed, and in 2001 Biolay's debut solo album, ''Rose Kennedy,'' a musical homage to the Kennedy saga, earned rave reviews. Biolay followed it in 2003 with the darker but equally poetic ''Négatif'' (Beck is said to have had tracks from the album on his iPod) and then the dreamy ''Home,'' on which he sings with Mastroianni.
I'll grow back like a starfish...
Over dinner at an outdoor table in the Fifth Arrondissement in Paris, as I tried to get Biolay to talk about chanson, he played with a pack of cigarettes with ''FUMER TUE'' (''SMOKING KILLS'') emblazoned in big black letters on the front, eyed an attractive brunette who meandered past our table and finally steered the conversation toward two of his obsessions: American history and politics. He has a closetful of books about the Kennedys. He had also just finished reading Bill Clinton's autobiography, ''My Life,'' which, he joked, was just as long in French. Lighting a cigarette (he says he wants to quit and is considering hypnosis), he talked about making ''Home.'' As Biolay tells it, he and Mastroianni conceived of the album on a drive to The Hague. Dissatisfied with the CD's they'd brought, they decided to produce a better road-trip soundtrack when they returned to Paris.
Mostly, ''Home'' is a sun-drenched album of folk-inflected, lo-fi duets, perfect for cruising through the Arizona desert. Only two songs are sung in English (''She's My Baby'' and ''A Home Is Not a Home''), but there are plenty of lyrics that need only partial translations, like ''Fume un peu de weed.'' To Biolay's annoyance, it didn't take long for critics to claim that he had found in Mastroianni his Jane Birkin. It was with Birkin, the whispery-voiced British actress who became his wife, that Gainsbourg released the scandalous (and scandalously successful) 1969 duet ''Je T'Aime Moi Non Plus.'' The song was an instant underground hit (the BBC banned it, and the Vatican denounced it). For those who knew French, the salacious lyrics made clear what Birkin's moaning did only too well on its own.
Biolay says he's not interested in scandalizing anyone, but he does have a way of turning the women in his life into musical sensations, much as Gainsbourg did for Birkin and Brigitte Bardot. Before Mastroianni worked with Biolay on ''Négatif'' (she joined him for a couple of tracks) and then on ''Home,'' her singing was relegated to the shower. Mastroianni is better known as an actress with supporting roles in offbeat films like Robert Altman's ''Prêt-à-Porter'' (in which she appeared with her father) or Delphine Gleize's ''Carnage,'' an ensemble piece about unrelated characters connected by the remains of a bull.
Then there's Biolay's younger sister, Coralie Clément, who also never expected to be a singer. Clément was hanging out with Biolay a few years ago when he asked her to sing a song he had written. ''I needed a girl to sing the lyrics just to see how it sounded, and she was there,'' Biolay said. ''So she sings, and she was good, but I didn't think much of it. When I sent the song to my distributor, they loved it, and they said that whatever I did, I should use the woman on the demo. So that's how it started. It happened by accident. It's not like I'm trying to turn every woman I care about into a singer.'' Of course, that's what Biolay would say. His style is to coolly avoid the big statement, to seem hounded when anyone tries to pin him down. The first time I saw him smile -- in the recording studio, after he made a gay joke -- I furiously scribbled ''Biolay Smiled!'' in my notepad. ''Oh, that was just a joke,'' Biolay's manager, Laurent Manganas, told me, probably worried that I was writing that Biolay is homophobic. (Which, incidentally, he's not.)
As we finished our meal, a short man wearing a straw hat and wielding a guitar approached the outdoor tables and broke into a spirited rendition of ''La Javanaise,'' a classic Gainsbourg love song. ''He's killing the song,'' Biolay told me as the old man sang off-key. Finally, as we got up to leave, Biolay gently put a few euros in the man's coat pocket. It seemed a strange choice, considering that he was butchering a French classic. ''If enough people give him money,'' Biolay explained as we left, ''then maybe he'll stop singing.''
Benjamin Biolay was born on Jan. 20, 1973, in Villefranche-sur-Saone, a small manufacturing town near Lyon in east central France. His father, a clarinetist in the local orchestra, encouraged him and his two sisters to play instruments. ''My parents basically forced me to play the violin,'' Biolay said. ''Eventually I realized that I actually really liked it, and then that I was good at it.'' At 15, Biolay was accepted to the prestigious Lyon conservatory of music and moved into an apartment with other young musicians, learning to play the trombone and winning two of the school's top awards. But his classical phase didn't last long -- soon he was watching a lot of MTV and teaching himself to play the guitar. In 1994, Biolay and the band he had formed, Mateo Gallion, released a live album. Hardly anyone noticed. He then went off on his own, writing and recording his own songs, but nothing caught on. ''I was really unhappy in my early and mid-20's,'' he told me, ''but a lot of what I wrote was really happy. It's like I was trying to make myself feel better. Apart from drugs and sex, which I did all the time, there wasn't much more that interested me. I was the kind of guy who would have a girlfriend and then three girls on the side. I was pretty transparent, though. I wasn't pretending to be anything other than what I was.''
That, he maintains, is still the case. So I tried again to get him to talk about chanson. Did he really want to be on the record saying he doesn't like most French music? (I pictured irate, Gainsbourg-loving Frenchmen overturning Citroëns outside Biolay's apartment, demanding that he apologize or move to America.) Biolay shrugged. ''Some are O.K., really, but I'd much rather listen to the Beatles than to Gainsbourg,'' he said. And as much as Biolay wants to cast off the great man's shadow, his refusal to be lumped in with other chansonniers isn't just a pose. ''Benjamin's music is more subtle, more layered and less French-sounding,'' said Christophe Conte, a writer for the French music magazine Les Inrockuptibles. ''Benjamin really doesn't belong in the same category, but he's lumped in there because a lot of what he writes for other people has a more classic chanson sound to it.'' Much of modern chanson is playful, ironic and downright perky.
Biolay's music is often dark and moody. On his second album, ''Négatif,'' which moves from acoustic ballads to country rock to pocket symphonies and electronica, Biolay sings about suicide, nightmares and furtive back-room sex: ''I love your bitter skin, your silky skin in an iron glove. I like going into the wall, to each his own, glory hole, glory hole . . . Nothing but a dog's life, in the back rooms and basements. Glory hole, glory hole.''
Obsessed as he is with America, Biolay couldn't resist a post-9/11 song on ''Home'': ''Are you still afraid of the dark? Who do you see in the mirror? Have you had your hour of glory? What will history make of you?'' Biolay's coming release, ''À L'Origine,'' is his first foray into a real rock sound, although it still features his trademark beautiful ballads and a children's choir on four tracks. ''Benjamin is a poet,'' Juliette Gréco told me. ''His writing, his music, it's very serious, very meaningful. It's beautiful, elegant and haunting.'' Kind of like the man himself? Gréco laughed. ''Yes, exactly.''
Biolay and Mastroianni live in a big, sunny Parisian apartment littered with children's toys, CD's and books about music, culture, art and politics. ''Ignore the mess,'' Biolay said, lighting a cigarette as we sat down at the big table in the spacious living room, while his 2-year-old daughter, Anna, stumbled around, banging an empty Evian bottle on anything that might make a funny sound. ''For the last month she's been running around with the sheep at Grandmother's'' -- Deneuve's -- ''country house, so this apartment isn't really containing her,'' Biolay said. ''She's like, 'Where are the sheep?'''
Biolay also has a stepson, Milo, an outgoing 8-year-old, from a previous relationship of Mastroianni's. Milo seemed excited when I was visiting, because once I left Biolay was going to take him bowling. I didn't realize that people bowled in Paris. ''Oh, yes, we love bowling,'' Biolay said. Was Mastroianni going, too? ''Oh, no, bowling is just for the boys,'' Biolay said, smiling at Milo. Mastroianni, who wore jeans and a T-shirt and hadn't said much since I came over, concurred. ''Yes, bowling is definitely for the boys,'' she said. Mastroianni has mostly avoided the attention of the paparazzi, who tormented her parents when she was a child. The couple say they do as few interviews as possible, although they did pose for the cover of French Elle to promote ''Home.'' ''When people want to interview us, it's rarely about our work,'' Biolay told me, rolling cigarettes for Mastroianni and himself. ''Journalists won't let Chiara be her own person -- they want to write about her in relation to her parents. And they always want to make us out to be this glamorous couple.''
Biolay so dislikes being in the limelight that he doesn't even like playing live -- or at least not that much. ''He's very shy, and for a long time he didn't feel comfortable in front of a lot of people,'' Mastroianni told me. ''But now he's starting to like it. It's growing on him.''
Celebrity is also growing on him. While Biolay insists that he looks at his feet when cute girls in the subway recognize him and stare, I don't believe it. During our time together, Biolay -- in typical French male fashion -- tried to make eye contact with almost every attractive woman who walked past us on the street. ''It's really funny,'' he said as he walked me from his apartment to a cabstand. ''The moment I start to get famous, I get married. So the moment I could have sex with any girl I want, I can't.'' I gave him a poor-you look. ''Yes, I know, I have it rough,'' he said. ''But Chiara really is all I want. I'm terribly in love.'' As in love as Gainsbourg was with Birkin? Biolay smiled, said nothing and kept walking.
She is sooo cool!
She has a wonderful face, you can see her dad and mum in it,but she is a real beauty and absolutely original.
In this world of washed out teens reigning in magazines covers, it´s refreshing to see someone with individual and cool modern WOMAN style!