I grew up in the tenements, OK? All these people crammed into two or three rooms. It was tight, claustrophobic. These gangster types coming to see my dad and uncle. These were dangerous men. Dangerous. I had asthma. Dust, dirt, these tight spaces. I couldn’t breathe. You get it? These were different times. I- I- I- I can’t even begin to—it was different. Different times…

In this year’s HGTV contemporary-mid-century-rustic-modern Dream Home, the kiddos won’t have to worry about asthma with the state of the art ventilation system. No wise guys either with SimpliSafe.

Let’s talk about the house. We’re on Long Island. This house is a New York house. When we were imagining this house, I had an idea. A vision. I drew it on the back of an old napkin from the Copacabana. I called Steven, Spielberg, and I said, “Steven, Steve? Are you there? Steven?” This was at 2 AM. I was frantic. Yes drugs, but excitement too, you know? Excitement.

“Steve?” I said, “Now is when we bring back A-frames. No one is making A-frames. I sense something new. There’s nothing commercial about them but there’s a truth.” He thought I was crazy. No one understood the vision until I made it a reality.

There are five kitchens in the house. Five. I’m still not sure if it’s enough. You need kitchens for food. It’s a new idea, five kitchens in one house. I grew up in the tenements, remember? Two rooms for a hundred people. At least a hundred. Sometimes more. Food was everything. All the doors to the other apartments were open. Always. It was basically a building of kitchens. That’s New York living. My New York.

The hardwood floor is pine from Rome. I called the Pope and told him that I’m making the greatest A-frame a Catholic has ever built. He sent me a forest. These great pines. I was touched. Very moved. Everywhere, I’ve etched in little crucifixes. For God. For wondering about God. What is faith in an A-frame? There’s tension here.

Once the bones were constructed, Thelma, Schoonmaker, and I went stud by stud. What is the philosophy of the stud? Structural? Aesthetic? We wanted to try something new. How would the first settlers of Long Island have built this A-frame? No one can know, but we’re reaching, you see? That’s cinema. And real estate. Reaching for the truth. About A-frames.

The A in A-frame is for America. I am framing America.

The house comes with a car. It’s a Ford Model T circa 1910. The first great American car for the first great American house. This is symmetry. Across time, across America. When you wake up in this house, you don’t want to think about electric cars. Fuel efficiency? No. This is history, the truth of this country. It’s ugly, brutal, violent. It’s an A-frame with America’s first favorite car.

The art was all selected by Bob, De Niro. We had long conversations every morning about what this project means for New York, faith, real estate. You’ll notice many of the picture frames are empty. Not a lot of art in the house at all. Bob and I are saying something. The empty space is important. Breathing room. Bob is very busy. He hasn’t been able to visit the property.

The countertops are marble, straight from the Dolomites. Titanium steel appliances from Japan. I made a picture in Japan. Excellent craftsmanship in that country. I once saw an A-frame in Japan. Beautiful, very beautiful. It was a monastery. I cried. Broke down. Yes drugs, but feeling, too. A lot of emotion. The stained glass windows above the sink are modeled after the stained glass in Notre Dame. Our windows were made by a man living as a hermit in Tibet. I made a picture there, too.

Most of the furniture is from Wayfair. An American company. Corporate America. Imported goods. Nothing is locally sourced in this year’s home. We’re saying something here.

In the basement we’ve erected a chapel that doubles as a screening room. The movie house was America’s second church, after the first church which was a literal church. Protestant and Catholic. Tension. Entertainment and morality. Entertainment versus morality. Tension, conflict. Violence. I’ve left canisters of all my films. My pictures. The house will make more sense if you understand America. Cinema. Find the truth.

HGTV didn’t want an A-frame. When I told them that I’d paint the exterior in Goodfellas Cocaine White—my suggestion for color of the year—they were adamant: it was a no. I had other ideas, too, but they couldn’t see it. So I said, “Sure, I’ll do what you say.” Then I followed my original plan and we made a great house.

In a way, the house, this gorgeous A-frame, will never be finished. Think about the structure of the letter A. It’s open at the bottom. Space for thought. Pondering. Is America ever finished? No, no, no, never. How could it be? If America is never finished, why should an American house be finished?

Enter to win the home by sending in your ticket stubs to showings of every picture in my filmography. Educate yourself. Cinema. A-frames. The HGTV Dream Home.