Bibi Ferreira – Michael Powell – Marcia Haydée
At 8.00 pm Bibi Ferreira came bouncing in to fetch us for dinner. She was having a baby in July, and looked very well on it. Her husband, a beautiful young man of good family, younger than she, was waiting outside in a huge convertible coupe. I took Bibi in my arms, kissed her, and asked the news.
I was very fond of her, and we understood one another. We felt absolutely natural with each other. Of course, in Rio, Bibi was the spoilt baby of the town, her father a popular comedian with his own theatre. She had always had a success with her vitality, and her talents as an actress, dancer, singer and producer. She had now turned serious producer in the Brazilian equivalent of the Comédie Française. She drove us to fetch her husband’s uncle, Pascoal Carlos Magno.
Now, this was just the man we wanted to meet again. He had been at the embassy in London for three years, a rich man, a poet, a politician — and Bibi had married his nephew! We went to the house of her sister-in-law, Sra Haydée, wife of a well known surgeon.
We dined there, and more of the family dropped in. They were charming, cultured people. The house was built into the side of a cliff, all height and no breadth, all stairs and balconies and hanging gardens for two hundred metres, delightful on such a hot, still night as this.
The daughter of the house, Marcia, was in the corps de ballet of the opera, a tall, slender naiad with arms and waist and legs and a still, pale, passionate face, which one day might make her a great ballerina. She had the ambition and the temperament. She yearned to come with her grandfather to Paris and London. I promised to help her if she did. She stirred the creative impulse in me. I never saw so slender a creature, with such a will and such passion. Marcia Haydee — a good name. She was sixteen.
We had a very good dinner, very light, discussed everything under the sun and moon, which was full, in English, French, Spanish and Portuguese. Armando and Bibi drove us home in the open coupe. I saw Marcia’s wispy figure outlined against the light as we turned the corner of the narrow lane.
Million-Dollar Movie – Michael Powell
Foi difícil você sair do Brasil?
Foi um feliz acidente. A Bibi Ferreira era nossa vizinha lá no Rio. E um dia resolveu oferecer um jantar a um diretor inglês, o Michael Powell. Acontece que a casa dela na época estava em obras, parece que tinha problema de luz. Então a Bibi falou com minha mãe, perguntou se podia fazer essa recepção em nossa casa. Bom, nessa época eu já tinha doze anos de balé (e quinze de idade), e naquela noite o Michael Powell me perguntou se eu não gostaria de ir estudar em Londres. Eu disse que adoraria, e então algumas semanas mais tarde chegou uma carta com o convite, e eu fui para o Royal Ballet. Cheguei lá, fiz uma audição e fui aprovada.
Marcia Haydée – Revista Veja, 1985