In the annals of classic cinema, few images have endured as vividly as Anita Ekberg wading through the Trevi Fountain in Federico Fellini’s La Dolce Vita (1960). Drenched in moonlight and Roman mythos, she embodied a kind of untouchable glamour—timeless, ethereal, and unapologetically bold. That moment made Ekberg a legend, but the woman behind the image was far more complex and compelling than any frame of film could capture.
Born Kerstin Anita Marianne Ekberg in Malmö, Sweden, in 1931, she began her path to stardom in the most traditional of ways: by winning beauty pageants. Crowned Miss Sweden in 1950, she soon traveled to the United States to compete in Miss Universe. Although she didn’t win the crown, Hollywood took notice of the statuesque blonde with the sculptural cheekbones and commanding presence. She was signed to a contract by Universal Pictures and began appearing in films throughout the 1950s.
While early Hollywood roles emphasized her beauty—often casting her as the exotic or unattainable blonde bombshell—Ekberg’s breakthrough came not in America but in Italy, in a country that seemed to understand her cinematic potential far better. When Fellini cast her as Sylvia, the dreamlike starlet in La Dolce Vita, it was a role written for mythology. In the film’s most iconic scene, she beckons Marcello Mastroianni’s character into the waters of the Trevi Fountain. It was a surreal collision of fantasy and reality that came to symbolize both the hedonism and melancholy of postwar European cinema.
The scene was as cold as it was unforgettable. Filmed in winter, the fountain’s water was freezing, and while Mastroianni reportedly needed a few shots of vodka to get through it, Ekberg famously braved the night barefoot and serene. That image—Anita in a strapless black gown, arms lifted like a goddess summoning magic—was instantly immortalized.
Yet for all the glamour she exuded on screen, Ekberg’s life was not without its complexities. She bristled at being typecast and often resented the way her looks overshadowed her talents. “I was a European sex symbol before Brigitte Bardot,” she once said. “I don’t know if I enjoyed being an icon. I just did what I wanted to do.” She was outspoken, fiercely independent, and resisted easy categorization—a woman both shaped by the spotlight and straining against its limitations.
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Though she continued to work steadily throughout the 1960s and ’70s, her name remained most strongly linked to La Dolce Vita, a film she both celebrated and grew weary of. The very role that brought her global fame also confined her image to a single moment—forever the woman in the fountain, never quite allowed to move beyond it.
In later years, Ekberg withdrew from the public eye, choosing a quieter life in Italy. She remained proud of her cinematic legacy but voiced frustration over being remembered more as a symbol than as a full, complex artist. Still, her influence endures. Generations of filmmakers and fashion designers have drawn inspiration from her unforgettable screen presence, and modern audiences continue to discover La Dolce Vita with awe, finding in that fountain scene the same magic that first captivated the world.
Anita Ekberg passed away in 2015 at the age of 83. She left behind more than just a single role—she left behind a myth. And while that myth is often crystallized in one shimmering image of cinematic perfection, those who look closer will see a woman who lived boldly, loved deeply, and refused to be just a symbol.
As Fellini once said of her, “She was born to be admired.” And admire her we still do—not just as Sylvia of the fountain, but as Anita Ekberg: the actress, the icon, the unforgettable force of nature.