Rocco

I think of myself

as someone who has paid to be

the person he wanted to be.

I've paid with my very... existence.

I dreamt of the devil as a child.

I would say to him,

"If you make me famous,

one day, I'll pay you back."

My sexuality is my devil.

At times, I've thought of things...

of darkness, of real self-destruction.

When you are attracted to the void,

to a sexuality that doesn't exist,

to images that would make anyone vomit,

something's not right.

And when you lose control,

it leads to chaos.

MILAN ITALY

I can no longer be a porn actor.

Rocco Siffredi has held me prisoner

for the past 30 years,

like an insect in a spider's web.

Those days are over.

From now on, my priorities are Rozsa, Lorenzo and Leonardo.

Screw the rest.

For the first time

in my life,

the devil between my legs

won't be a part of me anymore.

TWO YEARS EARLIER

BUDAPEST HUNGARY

I don't know.

My name is Rocco Tano.

I was born in a small town in central Italy,

on the Adriatic,

on May 4, 1964.

My father was a road-mender, my mother was a housewife.

I have five brothers and a sister.

When I was seven or eight,

I began to feel these urges coming from between my legs,

like a fire I didn't understand.

They were so strong and powerful

that I had to touch myself.

I became obsessed with sex.

The first time I masturbated,

I was eight or nine.

I came home for lunch,

and went into the bathroom. The window opened

onto the balcony where my mother did the laundry.

I was in the middle of masturbating.

Suddenly, I could feel someone watching me.

I looked and saw my mother's face, watching me.

It was a shocking, surreal experience.

I was terribly ashamed.

She gave me a little smile,

which I took to mean,

"Don't worry, it's OK. You've become a man.

You've grown up."

A smile that said,

"I'm on your side."

ORTONA ITALY

In choosing a career in porn, I defied everyone.

Even my family, my entire family.

My mother asked me, "Rocco, is this what you want to do?

Does it make you happy?

Then go ahead. Do it."

The poverty Rocco and I lived in, as children

shaped our personalities.

We were always told sex was for rich people,

not for us.

Only boys with money could seduce a woman,

and get something from her.

I have always wondered what our life would be like,

mine and my cousin's,

if his penis

hadn't stood to attention.

It's crazy, but it's the truth.

It's my destiny, my life story.

I might have become the priest

my mother always dreamt of.

Or a road-mender like my father.

When you see your parents struggling,

month after month, what do you want from life?

You want to be able to give them something better.

That's what I dreamt of.

I told myself, "You must do something to help your mother."

So I used my cock!

"He'll help me out!", I told myself.

BUDAPEST HUNGARY

Honey, grab the dicks.

Go like this, you understand?

Like this.

Watch the facial expressions!

Be expressive.

Great! Beautiful!

Valentina, watch your facial expression.

Gorgeous! Fantastic!

When I finished school, I got a job in a bank.

In Milan.

I did it

so my mother could say, "My son works in a bank."

She was happy and my father was proud.

But the Rocco Siffredi tornado swept through my life.

And I asked myself, "What am I doing with my life?

My cousin

is doing what I dream of, day and night.

He's having sex with women,

and he's getting paid for it. Why not me?"

So I left the bank to work with him.

He pushed his producers

to try me out. He told them,

"Look at his penis. It's as big as mine, maybe bigger!"

He was exaggerating,

but I was thrilled!

Very quickly,

I had to face a harsh reality,

that hit me like a slap across the face.

When they yelled out,

"It's your turn now. Action!"

I just couldn't do it.

I couldn't get hard,

and Rocco was forced

to penetrate the women instead of me.

Because...

I simply couldn't do it.

So in the shots

and the cutaways, thanks to the editing work,

my face was on the screen.

But the penis was always his.

I've prepared everything. We've even filled this

with water.

We'll have two teams.

The girls throw water balloons at the guys.

Let me have fun today.

What does that mean?

I knew you'd say that.

- I made up a story. - What story?

The guys are over here when the girls walk in.

They're chatting,

having fun.

One of the guys dresses up as a rabbit

and runs from the others who chase him on a motorbike.

- When do they fuck? - Right after.

When do they fuck?

Damn it, let me finish!

- Don't change my story. - Don't break my balls!

Let me finish!

Isn't my story funny?

All that crap would take ten hours to shoot!

- Ten minutes. - OK, do it your way.

But you're responsible if we have to shoot at night.

We have to do the lesbian scene too...

Drive a little faster.

Good, but make sure you take the curve.

Last take.

BUDAPEST HUNGARY

- Did you flip the toast ? - Yes.

Take this one and put this one here.

Toast?

If you want.

One particular day

probably changed my entire life.

We lived in low-income housing.

From the balcony,

I could hear my mother's shrieks.

Then Dad arrived

on his little Vespa, wearing his suit and helmet.

He looked up at the balcony.

He looked up and didn't even cry.

I can remember seeing something...

horrible.

My brother's lifeless body on the bed.

I can remember that the room

I shared with my little brother,

was filled with colored balloons

from a birthday celebration.

I began to furiously pop the balloons,

as the anger boiled inside me.

That image is engraved in my memory,

since my childhood.

A part of my mother died with Claudio.

Until the day she died, she never smiled again.

That frustration

and pain turned her into a very violent person.

Sometimes she'd grab my arm.

When she was angry, she'd seize my hand.

My wrist, in fact.

She would bite me so hard that it left marks.

Even after my brother died,

my mother continued to serve him dinner.

My father would get mad at her. "That's enough! He's gone!"

For 30 years, my mother wore black.

Nothing but black!

She made my father go to the cemetery every day.

Come rain or shine...

My mother had a very strong personality.

We called her "the General".

If anyone raised a hand to me,

my mother stood up for me, not my father.

He was scared.