The first time I was in Lisbon I stumbled upon a shooting. I was wandering through the narrow streets of the Alfama quarter when I was stopped short by a series of wooden barricades blocking an intersection. On the other side of the barrier stood a stocky, swarthy, thickly moustachioed man wearing a trilby hat and a curiously old-fashioned black suit. He was very still, aiming a pistol at something out of my view.
From my subsequent position, under a car, I saw him hold this deadly pose for a further 10 seconds, until someone shouted: "Cut!" The only thing being shot was a film: I later found out that Marcello Mastroianni was in town. With its boulevards lined with colonial-era mansions, medieval old city and Moorish relics, Lisbon cries out to be a film set.
[Simon Bush, Guardian]

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