In 1950, the most powerful man in Hollywood decided he wanted to own a specific woman.

Howard Hughes was 44 years old. He was a billionaire, an aviator, and the owner of RKO Pictures. He was a man who believed that everything in the world had a price tag, including people.

He saw a photograph of a young Italian actress named Gina Lollobrigida. She was 23, vibrant, and beginning to make her name in Rome. Hughes did not care about her acting skills. He decided, simply, that he had to have her.

He sent an invitation to Italy. He offered a screen test in Hollywood, promising two airplane tickets—one for Gina, and one for her husband, Milko.
It seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. But when the envelope arrived at the airport, there was a problem. It contained only one ticket.
Hughes had calculated that she would leave her husband behind for a shot at fame. He expected her to choose ambition over family.

Gina hesitated. But her husband, trusting her completely, encouraged her to go alone and see if the offer was real. She boarded the plane, stepping into a world she did not fully understand.

For the next three months, she lived in a strange, gilded cage.

Hughes did not put her in movies. Instead, he put her in a hotel suite. He pursued her with an intensity that bordered on madness. He hired English teachers for her. He showered her with invitations to luxury parties. He sent expensive gifts.

He made his intentions clear. He wanted her to divorce her husband.

He told her his lawyers could make the divorce happen instantly. He promised her millions of dollars. He promised furs, jewels, and a level of stardom that most people only dream of.

Gina refused.

“I was married,” she later told reporters. “And for me, the marriage was one for life.”

She was not impressed by his money. She was not intimidated by his power. She just wanted to work. But Hughes was not a man who accepted “no” for an answer.

As her visa neared its expiration, Hughes changed his tactics.

On the night of her farewell party, the atmosphere was chaotic. There was music, noise, and constant celebration. It was late. Gina was exhausted, overwhelmed, and eager to return home to Italy.

In the early hours of the morning, Hughes presented her with a stack of papers.

He told her it was a standard formality. A simple agreement to say she had completed her screen test. Gina’s English was still poor. She was tired. She trusted that a man of his stature wouldn’t need to trick a young girl.

She signed.

It was a trap.

The document was not a receipt. It was a seven-year personal service contract.

The terms were brutal. It effectively banned her from working in Hollywood unless she worked specifically for Howard Hughes. If any other American studio tried to hire her, Hughes could sue them. He could demand impossible fees.

Even years later, after Hughes sold his studio, he kept this specific contract. He held onto it personally. It was not about business. It was about control.

“I couldn’t return to Hollywood without Howard Hughes filing a lawsuit,” she recalled years later. “He said I was his property.”
In the 1950s, this should have been the end of her career.

The studio system was designed to crush defiance. Powerful men expected women to be grateful for their attention. They expected them to break.
Hughes waited for her to come crawling back. He waited for her to realize that he held the keys to the kingdom.

But he had made a critical mistake. He assumed Gina was just a pretty face. He did not realize he was dealing with a woman of sharp intelligence and iron will.

Gina went home to Italy. She did not cry. She did not beg. Instead, she got a translation of the contract and she studied it.

She read every single line. She looked for the weakness in his armor.

And she found it.

The contract stated that she could not work in any film production inside the United States without his permission. However, the contract said absolutely nothing about American films shot in Europe.
It was a loophole. A tiny, legal oversight. But for Gina, it was enough.
She did not need Hollywood. She would bring Hollywood to her.
She began to build an empire on her own terms. She starred in “Beat the Devil” in 1953 alongside Humphrey Bogart. It was an American movie, with American stars, but it was filmed in Italy. Hughes could do nothing.
She became an international sensation in “Bread, Love and Dreams.”
She commanded the screen in “Trapeze” alongside Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis. It was a massive hit, filmed in Paris. Again, Hughes was powerless to stop it.
While he sat in Los Angeles, clutching his piece of paper, Gina became the biggest star in Europe.
She took control of everything. She designed her own costumes. She did her own makeup. She negotiated her own deals, often demanding higher pay than her male co-stars.
“I am an expert on Gina,” she famously declared. She knew her worth, and she refused to discount it.
By 1959, the tables had turned completely.
MGM, one of the biggest studios in the world, was desperate to cast her in “Never So Few” opposite Frank Sinatra. They needed her star power.
To get her, they had to go to Howard Hughes. They had to pay him $75,000 just to get his permission—on top of Gina’s salary.
Hughes took the money, but he had lost the war. The contract he created to control her had only made him richer, not more powerful. She had succeeded without him.
She won three David di Donatello Awards. She won a Golden Globe. She acted in three different languages.
She proved that dignity was not a barrier to success. It was the foundation of it.
Then, she did something even more surprising.
When she felt she had conquered the world of cinema, she walked away.
By the 1970s, Gina Lollobrigida decided she had more to offer the world than her image. She picked up a camera.
The woman who had been photographed by thousands of men became the one behind the lens. She started a second career as a photojournalist.
She did not take easy photos. She traveled the world. She photographed Paul Newman, Salvador Dalí, and Henry Kissinger.
In 1974, she achieved a scoop that seasoned journalists envied. She secured an exclusive interview and documentary with Fidel Castro.
The actress who had been trapped by America’s most capitalist tycoon was now interviewing a communist revolutionary in Cuba. She asked him tough questions. She controlled the narrative.
France awarded her the Légion d’honneur, not just for acting, but for her artistic achievements. She became a celebrated sculptor, working with bronze and marble.
She lived a long, full life. In 2013, at the age of 86, she sold her massive collection of diamond jewelry.
She donated nearly $5 million of the proceeds to stem-cell research. She said she had no need for jewelry anymore; she wanted her legacy to be one of healing.
Gina Lollobrigida passed away on January 16, 2023. She was 95 years old.
She was one of the last survivors of the Golden Age of cinema. But she was never a victim of it.
She never needed Howard Hughes’s millions. She never compromised her marriage to get ahead. She never sold her autonomy for a role.
Her life offers a timeless lesson for anyone facing an impossible obstacle.
When they try to own you, read the fine print.
When they block your path, build a new road.
And when you have finally conquered their world, have the courage to walk away and create something entirely your own.
Howard Hughes thought a signature on a piece of paper made her his property.
Instead, she showed the world that true power isn’t about controlling others. It is about refusing to be controlled.
Sources: BBC Obituary (2023), Vanity Fair Archives, “The Secret Life of Howard Hughes.”