His face became iconic. From the mid-60s on he was inundated with scripts. He acted alongside the biggest stars and was directed by De Sica, Losey, Coppola, and Brass – but it was Luchino Visconti who became a key figure for him. The latter began casting him in ever more important roles (in The Damned, Ludwig, and Conversation Piece) because he knew better than anyone else how to take advantage of Berger’s particular look, in which he combined boyish purity with a hint of corruption. After entering into a relationship with Visconti, the actor was introduced to a world of luxury and celebrity; it seems that he still lives there in spirit, although for years now he’s resided in an ordinary apartment house on the outskirts of Salzburg. His rundown flat is a chaotic emporium of bizarre knickknacks, photographs, and reminders of his former glory; he lounges around like an ailing lion that’s seen better days – or perhaps like a version of King Ludwig that has rotted alive, interred in a world of his own chimeras. His aggression and obscenity shock and repel, but underneath it all there is an anxiousness that reflects his isolation, his embrace of the void.