Claudia Cardinale, one of the great legends of European cinema, left us in 2025. The Italian actress, who had made her home in France, passed away in Nemours at the age of 87. Her departure closes a glorious chapter in film history. It reminds us that she was one of the last representatives of a generation that forever changed the way women are portrayed on screen.

Her rise to stardom feels like one of those stories too perfect to be true. Born Claude Joséphine Rose Cardinale on April 15, 1938, in the French protectorate of Tunisia, she grew up in a Sicilian community in Tunis, the daughter of a railway engineer and a homemaker. Her beauty was striking from a young age, and she received offers to act, but she turned them all down — shy, she wanted nothing to do with stardom. Until, at 18, she was crowned “the most beautiful Italian girl in Tunisia” in a contest organized by the Italian embassy. The prize took her to the Venice Film Festival, where she was widely photographed and became a sensation on the covers of Italian magazines. “The girl who doesn’t want to make movies,” the headlines read.

What made her change her mind, however, was pain. As a teenager, she was the victim of sexual assault by an older acquaintance who coerced her into an abusive relationship, leaving her pregnant. In 1957, she gave birth to her son Patrick in London and, to avoid scandal, her family raised him as her “brother,” keeping the secret until he turned eight. That same year, producer Franco Cristaldi signed her to his Vides Cinematografica studio, and Claude became Claudia Cardinale — embracing the destiny she had once tried to escape.

Her screen debut came in I Soliti Ignoti (Big Deal on Madonna Street, 1958) by Mario Monicelli, and she quickly became a constant presence in major Italian productions of the early 1960s. In 1963, she starred in two films that would change her career forever: Luchino Visconti’s The Leopard and Federico Fellini’s 8½ — in which she played Marcello Mastroianni’s ideal woman. The world fell in love with her when Sergio Leone cast her as the widowed gunslinger in Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). Claudia went on to film in several countries, and Werner Herzog took her to the Amazon in Fitzcarraldo (1982), where she played the woman who bankrolls her lover’s impossible dream. Over six decades, she appeared in more than 150 films, moving seamlessly between dramas, romances, and comedies — including Blake Edwards’s classic The Pink Panther. And personally, I have always adored her as the charmingly clumsy Constance, D’Artagnan’s sweetheart, in Richard Lester’s delightful version of The Three Musketeers.

Though she was often compared to Sophia Loren and Gina Lollobrigida as one of Italy’s great sex symbols, Claudia had a more approachable magnetism, a “girl next door” quality that made her feel both real and glamorous. She became known as “Italy’s girlfriend” and “the dream girl” of an entire generation. Perhaps what made her so fascinating was precisely this duality — at once unreachable and familiar, exuberant and reserved, powerful and vulnerable. Today, her image remains etched in celluloid: walking alongside Visconti, laughing with Fellini, or staring defiantly into Leone’s camera with that unforgettable gaze.

Her death on September 23 left film lovers around the world deeply moved. She never wanted to be an actress — and became an icon. For those who grew up loving cinema, her face is forever part of the greatest films of all time, preserving her smile, her strength, and her talent for eternity. Claudia Cardinale will remain alive every time someone sits down to watch The Leopard, 8½, or Once Upon a Time in the West.

Rest in peace, Claudia. You were always larger than life.