I’ve often seen that in theatrical companies – the mischief people can get up to.”I’ve played mainly decent, rather solid types, so that’s good for Iago – 40 times he’s described as ‘honest Iago’. Some people wouldn’t expect me to be anything other than a rather bland Englishman. English-Irishman.”I ask him how he feels now about Frankenstein.”I absolutely made the film that I wanted to make, and it – critically, it got a pretty good going-over But around the world it did pretty well. For what it’s worth, it did $106m theatrically.”Did it break even? “Oh, sure, with video and that, they’ll see a profit And I’ve had worse reviews. You take the old rough with the doodah and on you go.”NEXT TO the Sala dei Cesari is an anteroom, cluttered with equipment and director’s chairs, which are used by everybody except the director On one of them is a copy of yesterday’s Daily Mail. “One of the drivers goes into Rome every morning to get the English papers,” says a member of the crew. “Bit sad, isn’t it?”On another chair is a copy of Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow.

Possibly a joke.Out in the courtyard, a couple of male extras are having a cigarette, in doublets, hose and sunglasses. The courtyard is an elegant triangle, with cloisters to give shade and opportunity for plotting. It looks just like a stage set.A familiar figure comes into view – a waif-like beauty, floating along in a floral sundress: Helena Bonham Carter. It takes a moment to register that she is not actually in the cast. I’ve heard the rumours linking her and Branagh, but then there are a lot of rumours in this business.BRANAGH was cheerful, polite, instantly likeable.

Fishburne is harder to get through to; the Moor is less merry.”Good dancer!” says one of my Spanish colleagues, to break the ice.”Thank you,” says Fishburne.”Like flamenco!” she adds.”Thank you,” says Fishburne.Spain’s other representative begins by asking when the star was born “Sixty-one July 30th Augusta, Georgia James Brown’s hometown Which means I’m very funky and I have got soul.” He laughs. His body language is commanding – sprawled in a director’s chair, head back, legs apart; but his laugh is loud and nervous.”What made you take this part?”"It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He pauses. “They made me an offer I could not refuse.” The second reading of the line is slower. I can’t tell whether he’s underlining it or adding irony.”Do you have anything in common with Othello?”"Do I have anything in common with Othello? When I think of Othello I think of a poet-warrior Let me say that again – a romantic warrior And I think I have those qualities in common with him.

Don’t everybody answer at once!” He laughs his big laugh again.”What about his jealousy?” I ask. “How do you see that?”"His jealousy? I think people mistake this thing. I don’t think Othello is a jealous man – he is a man who has been deceived by another person, just as everybody in the play is deceived by that person … The playwright uses the word jealousy over and over and over again but I don’t think it has anything to do with being jealous.”"Are you using a different accent?”"Accent? Well -”The publicist leaps into the pause and tells the star that none of us has heard any dialogue.”Can you give us a taste of it?”"No, that’s not fair,” says the publicist Fishburne laughs, more warmly “That’s not fair,” he says.

Summoned by a child, I ran down the drive to find that Will had just lassoed her. She somersaulted, she reared, she flung herself about like a dervish And she screamed. I had never heard such screams; Jack the Ripper might have been doing all his victims simultaneously. Alert, responsive, the pig raised her head, listened for a moment, and sped back up the drive. The boys cowered in the hedge, uncool for ever.
Her other excursion did not go so well. This time she was found uprooting shrubs in Mrs Hooker’s garden. Mrs Hooker was absent, enjoying an afternoon at the Young at Hearts Club, but Will, her neighbour, tried to lure Portia homewards This didn’t work He tried to shoo her; this worked even less.