'Passionada'

Waiting for Sofia...

(Published on June 8, 2001)

By Dick White, Standard-Times columnist

Photography by Jack Iddon, Standard-Times chief photographer

(click on each photo to view caption)

 The new Chrysler minivan stopped in the middle of the road and Sofia Milos placed a well-tanned ankle onto the cobblestone of Johnny Cake Hill, emerging like a dark and sultry revision of Botticelli's "Primavera" floating onto the well-worn streets of historic New Bedford. I had been waiting for Sofia for an hour. She was about to enter Seamen's Bethel -- or what the working film crew outside kept referring to as "the church" -- for today's shoot in the first movie being filmed in New Bedford in 80 years. Tentatively titled, "Passionada," Sofia Milos will portray the lead character named Celia. So, there I stood across the street worshipping her from afar, which is something I am very good at, inwardly wailing for those like us who are oppressed by the figures of beauty. And here stood a heavenly figure, a lithe and curvaceous vision molded within a simple black dress, a black veil resting on top of her head and a gold crucifix around her neck -- a supernova of such simple, stunning beauty that she overpowered a surrounding entourage that was utterly lost in her light. I was lost too. And so I stood across the street from Seamen's Bethel, armed only with pen and pad, a single red rose, an elegantly wrapped piece of chocolate and my best intentions. Waiting for Sofia.

Three days earlier, I was working on my Sunday column when a reporter told me that "all the movie people are at the Whaling Museum" for a mayoral reception for Azorean President Carlos Cesar. I was inappropriately dressed, but decided to pop in and out. Outside of the museum, I ran into my friend and former colleague Ric Oliveira, who is now the publisher of "O Jornal." "Do you want to meet the president?" he asked. "No, with all due respect," I replied. "I want to meet Sofia." I had done my research. Born in Zurich, Switzerland, to a Greek mother and Italian father, I knew that Sofia Milos (pronounced MEE-loz) later moved with the family to Italy and that her parents still reside in Rome. I knew that her brother Pino, his wife and their two children live in Potenza (the hometown of her father), in the South of Italy. And I knew that I had been absolutely smitten by her recent break-out performance in the critically acclaimed HBO series "The Sopranos." First aired in February 2000, Sofia played a strong and powerful, yet vulnerable and feminine Napolitan mob boss, Annalisa Zucca, who goes head-to-head with Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) during his visit to Italy. I even knew that Sofia's personal weakness was an Italian chocolate candy called "Baci", which means "kiss." And I knew that roses are her favorite flowers. But none of this prepared me for the hard-core reality of actually coming face-to-face with Sofia. Say it loud, and there's music playing. Say it soft, and it's almost like praying. Sofia. I've just met a girl named Sofia. And here she sat like a goddess eating soup, so intimidating, I was afraid of opening my mouth and suddenly turning into Jerry Lewis. LADY! With the eyes and the hair and the things there. Let's talk, Laaa-dy? Get a grip on yourself, man! So I addressed the table, and suddenly turned into Ralph Cramden, "Homina-homina-homina ... Homina-homina-homina ... Hello. We're all very excited that you're filming in New Bedford, and we're really looking forward to it." Baby, you're the greatest. One of the producers  then replied, a bit too loudly, "We're very excited by it, too. This movie is going to absolutely knock people's socks off. REMEMBER MY NAME!" My, don't we have a healthy ego, I thought. But there was so much I wanted to ask Sofia. What did she really think of New Bedford? How was she relating to her role as a working-class Portuguese woman and Fado singer? How much of her upbringing actually related to the character Celia? Was she studying the art of Fado? What was that like? So, I turned to Sofia and introduced myself, taking her hand. I wanted to plant a baci on it, and I'm not talking about the chocolate, but she was a bit too far away. Summoning up all the style and grace and savoir faire I could possibly muster, I began speaking. It came out like a cross between Ricardo Montalban and Porky Pig. Adabada-adabada-adabada ... Enchanté. I'd l-l-l-like to interview you about your role in the ma-ma-ma-movie. She smiled graciously and replied, "Why, certainly. Would you like to do it by phone or on the set?" "Adabada-adabada-adabada ... The set would be nice." I received a call from her charming friend Helena Marques the next day.

The interview was set for "after 4 o'clock" at Seamen's Bethel. I took 10 minutes combing what little hair I have left prior to My Date with Sofia. I showered, shaved extra close and sprayed on men's cologne. I painstakingly ironed a blue-and-white flowered shirt and my best pair of white pants, which now hung fashionably over a pair of Italian shoes. I put on a tan sports coat. I was dressed like Don Johnson in heat. I went to three different variety stores looking for a baci, and this time I am talking about the chocolate. I had to settle for a chocolate-covered cherry which, quite amazingly, went by the name of "Celia" -- the same name as her character in the movie. It cost me 69 cents. At Store 24, I purchased a single red rose for $1.85. I tucked it halfway into the side of my pants and covered it with my jacket because I don't want to look like a love-sick schmuck out on assignment. At 4 p.m., a dozen-and-a-half crew members scurried about outside Seamen's Bethel removing flowers they had put in for the exterior shots. A rookie cop said he'd been out there since 5:50 a.m. I told him I had a Date with Sofia. He laughed in my face. A young crew member wearing a baseball cap and a walkie-talkie headset asked me what I wanted. I told him I had a 4 o'clock appointment to interview Sofia Milos. On four separate occasions he called people, referring to me as "Dick Whites." On all four separate occasions I told him there is no "s" at the end of my name. On all four separate occasions, he ignored me. One of the producers sauntered out of "the church" and told me with a wave of his arm: "NO INTERVIEWS UNTIL THE MOVIE'S ALL OVER!" What an incredible control-freak, I thought. I told him that I had set this up with Sofia three days ago. "I DON'T CARE. YOU DIDN'T RUN IT BY ME!" Yah-vul, mein Fuhrer! I don't know why, but I had a sudden urge to invade the Sudatenland. Actually, I wanted to throw the rose in his face and challenge him to a duel at 30 paces. Him with a saber. Me with an Uzi. How dare he come between me and Sofia. Bastardo! So, I hung out for a hour in front of the Whaling Museum hoping to catch another glimpse of her. I watched the outdoor crew answering their cell phones and discussing matters integral to the artistic integrity central to such an undertaking. "Wow, did you get a load of the new girl?" one male crew member said to another. "She is really HOT!" "Yeah," came the reply. "And she looks a lot better in a tank top." Sofia arrived at 5 o'clock. She was whisked away by 5:30 -- out of "the church," into the van, out of my life. Forever. Between the rose and the candy, $2.54 of my hard-earned money had been shot to hell. I drowned my misery by eating the chocolate-covered candy named Celia, and placed Sofia's rose on my desk inside a plastic Coca-Cola cup, where it sits to this day, withering, as my heart does the same. Waiting for Sofia. Dick White can be reached through the Internet at soitgoes@s-t.com

Dick White And So It Goes soitgoes@S-T.com

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