LaGrandeBellezza-绝美之城

Travel is useful,
it exercises the imagination.
All the rest
is disappointment and fatigue.
Our journey is entirely imaginary.
That is its strength.
It goes from life to death.
People, animals, cities, things,
all are imagined.
It's a novel,
just a fictitious narrative.
Littrè says so, and he's never wrong.
And besides, anyone can do as much.
You just have to close your eyes.
It's on the other side of life.
Louis-Ferdinand Cèline
Journey to the End of the Night
Fire!
You're a real pain in the ass!
Enough!
They even have cocktails
with cherries. Remember?
Hey, jerks!
I'll screw you!
Have you seen Ermanno?

• I'll screw you! Now!
• Get lost!
  What the hell are you doing?
  My phone's been stolen!
  I'm starring in two TV dramas...
  I'm playing a Pope in one,
  and a junkie on the road to recovery
  in the other.
  Impressive!
  No theatre work?
  I'm supposed to do
  Shakespeare with Pietro, but...
  it has to be at least
  three hours long,
  be an ambitious project,
  and no more small cities!
  I'm trying to write a piece
  for theatre, and the concept is...
• What about you?
• I might give up acting.
  In this shitty country there are
  never any good female roles.
  I'll write my first novel,
  a Proust-style piece.
  Really?
  Proust is my favourite writer!
  Along with Ammaniti...
  What a coincidence.
  Who is that woman?
  Don't you recognise her?
  It's Lorena.
  Who?
  An ex TV showgirl, now in
  full physical and mental decline.
  Never seen her! But then
  I've never had a television.
  Viola, I know you don't have one.
  You tell me all the time.
• What does she do now?
• Nothing, of course.
  Happy birthday, Jep!
  Happy birthday, Rome!
  La Colita!
  To this question, as kids,
  my friends always gave
  the same answer...
  "pussy".
  Whereas I answered...
  "the smell of old
  people's houses".
  The question was:
  "What do you like most, really,
  in life?"
  I was destined for sensibility.
  I was destined to become a writer.
  I was destined to become
  Jep Gambardella.
  You paid no attention
  to me tonight!
  Romano, don't start moaning,
  we're not an item.
• You liked that guy?
• I like everyone and no one.
  But I wonder why you're always
  with me when it's no one's turn.
• Will you take me to the airport?
• Sure. What time are you leaving?
• In three hours.
• Three hours?
  Then I should crash on your sofa...
  Go home, I need to pack
  and I don't want anyone around.
• But I live miles away.
• See you at 8:00.
  Goodnight.
  Guys?
  Children!
  Run along!
  Catellani?
  The best, of course.
  Did Catellani the tailor
  make your suit?
  There was no doubt
  about Malagna's shady intentions.
  The girl should be rescued
  at any cost, without loss of time.
  Sir, you drank!
  Just enough to forget
  my birthday.
• You want infusion?
• Heavens, no!
• I got you a present.
• How sweet!
  This is a lucky charm
  from my country.
  Good thing it's lucky,
  because it's pretty ugly.
  Keep it on your bedside
  and stop complaining!
  I will! And thanks.
  Wake me up at 1 5:00, you rascal.
  You're funny when you call me that!
  I don't love you!
  Brilliant!
  Did you enjoy the performance?
  Parts of it.
  That violent head-butt
  made me understand many things.
• Let's start from the beginning.
• Or the end?
  You know, Talia Concept
  loves to provoke.
  Don't bother, there are more
  important things than provoking me.
  And this habit of speaking
  in the third person is unbearable.
  What are you reading?
  I don't need to read, I live
  on vibrations, extra-sensory ones.
  Extra-sensoriality aside,
  what do you mean by vibrations?
  The poetry of vibrations cannot
  be described
  with the vulgarity of words.
  Well, try at least.
  I'm an artist,
  I don't need to explain jack shit.
  So I'll write: "Lives on vibrations,
  but she doesn't know what they are."
  I'm starting to dislike
  this interview,
  I sense conflictuality in you.
• Conflictuality as a vibration?
• As a pain in the ass.
  Let's talk about my mom's
  abusive boyfriend.
  No! I want to know
  what a vibration is.
  It's my radar to intercept
  the world.
  Your radar... meaning?
  You're a pain in the ass.
  We got off to a bad start...
  Talia Concept wants to be
  interviewed by your paper,
  it has many readers.
  But you're biased.
  Write about how she has sex
  with her fiancè 1 1 times a day,
  he's a talented conceptual artist,
  he covers basketballs with confetti!
  He's sensational!
  Talia Concept is talking about
  things that are meaningless to me.
  All I've heard
  is unpublishable fluff.
  You can't charm me
  with things like:
  "I'm an artist,
  I don't need to explain".
  Our paper has a core
  of cultured readers
  that don't want to be taken
  for fools. I work for that core.
  So let me talk about my eventful,
  difficult but necessary
  journey as an artist!
  Necessary for who?
  For heaven's sake, madam,
  what is a vibration?
• I don't know.
• You don't know.
  You are an obsessive jerk!
  I'll tell your editor to send me
  a journalist of a higher stature.
  A piece of advice:
  when you speak to my editor,
  go easy on the stature business.
  She's a dwarf, you know.
  Jep, this interview is a hoot!
  Maybe, but don't send me
  to interview someone
  who head-butts walls again.
• You know what the trick is?
• Foam rubber.
  Amateur dramatics isn't dead.
  Did you get offended
  about the stature comment?
  Don't be silly!
  That's the funniest bit!
  I'm a dwarf, it's no secret.
  It's the first and last thing
  everyone says about me.
  You're a spectacular woman, Dadina.
  You've had the career you deserve.
  But you haven't had the career
  you deserve.
  Maybe I don't have much to say...
  Bullshit, you're lazy.
  You never leave Rome.
  Go to Giglio to do that report
  on the Concordia
  I've asked you to do 50 times.
  Re-heated rice is always tastier
  than freshly cooked rice.
  The old is better than the new.
  Plans tonight, chèrie?
  As the great De Blasi,
  my predecessor, said:
  "Tonight I'll do two things,
  eat soup and have a shag."
  Two things that contradict
  each other.
  That's what I'd say too,
  and she'd reply, in a serious tone:
  "No, Dadina, they don't,
  because they're both hot."
  There's a publishing house
  in Ancona, it's not that small,
  they want an interview book
  about you.
  Another interview book?
  We're obsessed with interviews!
  Can't you hear them?
  "As I always say"... to who?
  Forget it!
  And honestly,
  who'll buy a book called:
  "Visions and revisions.
  Jep Gambardella's Galaxy"?
  It's a serious title!
  Unfortunately in this country,
  in order to be taken seriously,
  you have to take yourself seriously.
  I only wrote one novel, 40 years ago.
  Impossible to find too...
  Bullshit, "The Human Apparatus"
  was a masterpiece!
  It even won the... what was it?
• The Bancarella prize.
• Shit, the Bancarella prize!
  You're very kind, but forget it...
  it'd be too pompous.
  I can't, you'll put me
  in an awkward position.
  I've agreed and I've even accepted
  an advance...
• How much?
• 1 ,500 euros.
  Give it back,
  I'll give you 1 ,500 euros.
  By the way,
  I spoke to the theatre people.
  They'll give you three nights
  but you pay for the lights.
  Who cares about that!
  Jep, this is great news.
  It's really great news.
  Thank you!
  Are you still up?
  It's time to go to bed.
  That's Viola Bartoli,
  Bartoli's widow.
  The guy who was killed,
  the actual Bartoli.
  Viola has a 50 metre yacht
  that belonged to Himmler, the Nazi.
  You know what I call Viola?
• No, what?
• "To-good-to-poo".
• I don't understand.
• Because she's pernickety.
  Usually pernickety people don't poo.
  When I introduced Trumeau
  to my family, my father said:
  "Miss, before marrying my son,
  have you ever seen him poo?"
• How gross!
• It's not as bad as you think.
  Actually, my wife and I are the only
  couple in Italy who are in love.
  Orietta, watch out for Lello.
  Yes, I know.
  He's the world's greatest salesman,
  he cons everyone.
  In no time he'll get you to spend
  every penny
  on whatever he's selling.
  You always flatter me.
  Just because I express myself well
  doesn't mean I'm always working!
• What do you do?
• I sell toys.
  Not just in a shop,
  he's a wholesaler on a global scale,
  he even sells to the Chinese!
  What about him?
  Don't you know him? Sebastiano Paf,
  perhaps Italy's greatest poet.
  He wrote: "Up with life,
  down with reminiscence."
  He's on the Dukan Diet,
  so Dadina won't leave him.
  Is he with her?
• He is, but she...
• Like at high school.
  Why doesn't he ever talk?
  Because he listens.
• Stop sniffing up with your nose?
• Bugger off.
  Jep's found a theatre for me.
  Do you want the lead role?
  I'm no longer an actress,
  I'm a writer now.
  Maybe...
  Maybe I'll direct a film.
• Viola, darling!
• Help me, I'm worried about my son.
• What can I do?
• Why don't you talk to him?
  You always say you're good
  with strangers...
  That's the problem, I'm too good.
• Is he seeing a therapist?
• Yes, but he wants to stop going.
  Take him to a psychiatrist, they're
  pragmatic: Ativan, Prozac and so on.
  That stuff makes him feel worse.
  Relax, he's always been odd,
  he is what he is.
  By the way, have you tried
  this rascal's endive quiche?
  It's the first time she's made it
  and it's better than my mom's,
  please, you must try some!
  You changed your hair colour.
  I feel Pirandello-esque lately...
• Great jazz, no?
• Not really.
  The Ethiopian jazz scene is the only
  interesting one today.
  I'm from Milan, to be honest...
  I find Romans...
  unbearable!
  The best people in Rome
  are the tourists.
  Take Italy...
  What are we famous for overseas?
  Fashion and pizza.
  A country of weavers and grocers.
  How can someone who sells toys,
  bringing joy to the world,
  be such a pessimist
  and a defeatist? You're dark.
• Dark?
• Yes.
  I heard Gisella Montanelli
  went to loans sharks
  to pay her hairdressing debts.
  Jep says I'm dark!
  Gisella's really sunk that low?
  Rome is the only city in the world
  where Marxism has truly existed.
  You can't excel over others
  for more than a week,
  you're immediately brought back
  to mediocrity.
  Rome is pure collectivism.
  Pure collectivism.
  Stefania, what utter nonsense!
  Do you know that Flaubert wanted
  to write a book about nothing?
  If he'd met you, we'd have had
  a great book, what a shame!
  You're a misogynist.
  It's not all about you, I'm not
  a misogynist, I'm a misanthropist.
  When hate's involved,
  one must aim high.
  You're a dark man.
  I'm a transparent person,
  without a doubt!
  Lello!
  Aren't you stopping tonight?
  Mom!
  When I see you I blush!
  Andrea...
• You're crazy.
• No, mom, I'm not crazy!
  I've got problems.
  "As the light flashed,
  love sat down in the corner.
  Shy and distracted as it was.
  This is why
  we could tolerate life no longer."
  Gosh,
  no one's quoted me for years!
  I read your book as a teenager,
  I've never forgotten the end.
  Stop right there, you're stroking
  my ego in a dangerous way.
  You must've been deeply in love
  when you wrote it.
  Moravia made the same comment,
  more or less.
  Even though he worded it
  a bit better.
  I once saw Piazza Navona
  covered in snow.
  Really? What was it like?
  White!
  When I come to Rome I live there.
  Deep in the outskirts...
  What job you do?
  Me? I'm rich.
  Great job.
  You didn't enjoy it.
  I know I'm not very good.
  Why do you say that?
  Plus it's so sad being good,
  you risk becoming deft.
  It didn't seem like you cared much.
  You're very beautiful, Orietta,
  very, very, very beautiful.
  I take photos, you know.
  Of myself.
  At all times of the day,
  to get to know myself.
• With the self-timer,
  with my phone... - Interesting.
  My Facebook friends say
  I take great photos.
  I bet there are some of you naked...
• A few.
• I knew it!
  Do you want to see them?
• Of course.
• I'll get my computer.
  The most important thing I discovered
  a few days after turning 65
  is that I can't waste any more time
  doing things I don't want to do.
  When I came to Rome,
  at the age of 26,
  I fell pretty swiftly,
  almost without realising it,
  into what might be defined
  as the whirlpool of the high life.
  But I didn't just want to live
  the high life.
  Sacconi should be in charge.
  Antonini's a fucking pain
  in the ass!
  I wanted to be
  the king of the high life.
  And I succeeded.
  I didn't just want
  to go to parties.
  I wanted to have
  the power to make them a failure.
  Gambardella?
  Sorry for showing up like this,
  without warning...
  I'm Alfredo Marti.
  Nice to meet you, I'm Jep,
  but my house is this one.
  I don't want to bother you.
  How can I help you?
  I'm Elisa De Santis' husband.
  Did you have children?
  No.
  I couldn't.
  But I could.
  I could.
  I'm sorry.
  Forgive me.
  She could too.
  Elisa died.
  Yesterday.
  Alfredo, if you need anything,
  you know where I live.
  Don't leave me alone, please.
  Don't leave me.
  We were married for 35 years...
  but Elisa always loved you.
  What are you saying?
  Elisa and I went out together
  when we were kids.
  She left me, I think,
  it was so long ago I don't remember.
  Yes, she left you.
  On September 8th, 1 970.
  Exactly...
  You're distraught now,
  that's normal.
  I'm not distraught.
  Elisa only ever loved one man.
• You.
• How can you say that?
  I never saw Elisa again,
  you were together for a lifetime!
  I found a diary of hers,
  with a lock.
  And I broke the lock off.
  I write for a living, believe me...
  when you write, you give life
  to fantasies, imagination, lies...
  I was only a good companion.
  That's all she wrote about me.
  and I'm mentioned in two lines
  as a good companion.
  Here, Alfredo.
  What'll you do now?
  What I've always done.
  I'll live in adoration of her.
  What's he doing?
  Stop!
  Jep!
  Well done!
  He made it!
• Have you seen my daughter?
• Your daughter? No.
  Francesca!
  Who are you?
  Who am I?
• I am...
• No, you're nobody.
  Nobody?
  But I...
  Francesca, where on earth are you?
  I've been looking for you
  for over an hour!
• Are you sad, sir?
• No.
  Sir is strange.
  I don't like that,
  I prefer you to be sad.
• Are you going to bed?
• Last night I went to bed at 22:30.
  Now I don't know what to do.
  Morning is an unknown object to me.
  Unknown.
  Sir can help me clean
  the house then.
• Sir can't, sir feels strange.
• Sir is a rascal.
  "Is there a new nation struggling
  within the walls of the city?
  From the crevices of that soil
  a feverish vapour ascends like smoke
  and works like a magic philtre
  in the blood of some men
  producing a form of heroic madness
  unlike any other."
  What do you think? Shit,
  it's powerful, don't you think?
  Why the hell do an adaptation
  of D'Annunzio for the stage?
  D'Annunzio has always been
  paradigmatic...
  You think that certain
  intellectual feats give you dignity,
  and that others are better than you,
  but you're wrong!
  Try and write something of your own,
  like...
  a feeling, or sorrow...
  I've known you ages
  but you've never been here.
  Don't get big-headed, you've got
  a room in a student flat...
  Are you going out with that
  gloomy girl you're always with?
  I wish!
  I've tried it on 7,000 times.
  I've never even had a kiss,
  not one!
• She's a bitch.
• No, she's not.
• She's complicated.
• She's a bitch.
  Trust me, you're too kind.
  I can tell her type from a mile off,
  I don't even need to meet them.
• What are you doing with that hat?
• My morning exercise.
• That's exercise?
• Yes!
  Do you know how many women
  you've been with?
  No, I'm rubbish at maths.
  I've always been good at maths.
  It's six, I introduced you to them.
  Seven.
• Seven?
• Seven.
• When did number seven happen?
• Last summer.
  A friend of my sister's back home
  when I went to see my folks.
  She runs a shop...
• She's nice.
• That means she's a dog.
  What about you and Orietta?
• Who's Orietta?
• Don't you know?
  She was at your house...
  A real beauty.
  At my age, a beauty isn't enough.
  I might take up writing again.
  That's great news!
  Has something happened?
  Why?
  You want to write again after all
  these years, something's happened.
  Something always happens in Rome.
  Nothing's happened.
  What are you looking at?
  Come here.
  They met at university
  They haven't stopped kissing
  for 1 0 days.
  This generation of youths
  horrifies me.
  Supported by this state for years,
  when they realise they're smart,
  they go study or work in America
  or London,
  forgetting about the support.
  They have no civil vocation.
  As a young girl,
  in the occupied arts department,
  I oozed civil vocation.
• Is that so?
• Yes, why?
• Come off it...
• What do you know?
  In those years you were in Naples
  being a loafer with posh girls
  and writing your only novelette.
  I didn't notice that history
  was being made.
  Novelette? It was a masterpiece
  of Italian literature!
  I confirm that Jep and civil
  vocation never got along,
  he was lazy and the other
  hyperactive.
  Romano, stop sucking up to your
  idol, you're pathetic!
  "The Human Apparatus"
  was a narrow-minded, frivolous book
  and pretentious too, like its title.
  Jep knows that.
• That's why he stopped there.
• Sorry, what about you then?
  I tried changing things
  with literature.
  I wrote 1 1 novels, and a book about
  the Party's official history.
  You're forgetting your contribution
  to that reality show...
  "Girl Farm".
  Television can be
  a very formative experience!
  I always go when I'm invited.
  I get my hands dirty,
  I try things...
  I don't spend my life being a snob.
  Are you saying that a socially
  committed writer is advantaged,
  and safeguarded,
  compared to a novelist
  who deals with, how can I say...
  with feelings?
  Of course she is!
  The cause someone commits
  their life to isn't secondary.
  Like creating a family,
  dedicating oneself with sacrifice
  to raising one's children day
  after day.
  Eusebio and I have four children,
  we plan the future together.
  I work hard
  to be both a mother and a woman,
  but at the end of the day I feel
  I've done something important.
  So if we don't have children
  we should contemplate
  the idea of suicide?
• I don't mean you, of course.
• She means me.
  Dadina, I admire you greatly.
  You're a badass.
  Do you use "badass"
  in any of your 1 1 novels?
  Yes, I do, I try to be modern.
• Modernity is badass.
• De gustibus.
  What great conviction!
  Should I envy you or be repelled?
  Yes, I have convictions.
  I'm 53...
• You'd never know.
• Never.
  I'm 53, I've suffered,
  I bounced back,
  and learned lots about life.
  Well, I can see you have nothing
  to say, at last.
  I was drinking...
  As we care about you,
  we don't want to embarrass you.
  You know, all this boastful talk,
  all this serious ostentatiousness,
  all this ego...
  These harsh damning judgements
  of yours
  hide a certain fragility,
  a feeling of inadequacy
  and above all a series of untruths.
  We care about you, we know you.
  We also know our untruths
  and for this, unlike you,
  we end up talking about nonsense,
  about trivial matters,
  because we don't want
  to revel in our pettiness.
  What untruths
  are you talking about?
  Everything I said is true,
  it's what I am, what I believe in.
  Please, I'm a gentleman.
  Don't destroy my only certainty.
  Tell me exactly what my lies are
  and what my fragility is!
  I'm a woman with balls, tell me!
  "Woman with balls" would be too much
  for any gentleman.
  All right, Stefania,
  you asked for it. In random order:
  Your civil vocation during
  your student days went unnoticed.
  But another vocation of yours
  is remembered by many,
  the one practiced by you then,
  in the university toilets.
  You wrote about the Party because
  you were its leader's mistress.
  And your 1 1 novels,
  published by a small publishing
  house subsidised by the Party,
  reviewed by minor Party-affiliated
  newspapers,
  are insignificant,
  everyone says so.
  I'm not saying my novelette
  was any better,
  I agree with you there.
  Your relationship with Eusebio...
  What relationship? Eusebio
  loves Giordano, everyone knows.
  He has for years.
  They lunch every day
  at Arnaldo's, under the coat rack,
  like sweethearts under an oak tree.
  You all know but turn a blind eye.
  Your dedication to your children,
  with all the sacrifices entailed...
  You work all week in TV,
  you go out every night,
  even on Mondays, when popper
  dealers don't even venture out.
  You're never with your children,
  not even on the
  long holidays you take.
  And plus you have a butler,
  a waiter,
  a cook, a chauffeur
  who drives the kids to school,
  three babysitters, so...
  how and when exactly
  do you make any sacrifices?
  These are the untruths and fragility
  I'm talking about.
  Stefania, mother and woman.
  You're 53, with a life in tatters,
  like the rest of us.
  Instead of acting superior
  and treating us with contempt,
  you should look at us
  with affection.
  We're all on the brink of despair,
  all we can do
  is look each other in the face,
  keep each other company,
  joke a little...
  Don't you agree?
  Son of a bitch!
  Egidio, old chap!
  Bastard!
  I haven't seen you in 30 years!
• I need to talk to you.
• Later! I'm busy, can't you see?
• Is this still your place?
• Luckily not, I sold it.
  I'm still the manager though.
  You're famous! You're always
  in the gossip rags.
  You're at all the VIP parties,
  always with a girl!
  You never come here...
  Get lost, will you?
  We're having a serious talk!
• Are you married?
• Married, divorced.
• I've got a daughter, Ramona.
• Did you have to call her Ramona?
  You artists are all the same!
  I tell you I have a daughter
  and you complain about her name!
  What's wrong with "Ramona"?
  Nothing, it's a name that implies
  ambitions...
  There's my daughter, you see?
  She makes me so mad,
  I've told her a million times!
  You're too old for this!
  Now these hot young Polish girls
  rule the scene.
  They're experts at turning tricks.
  She's 42 and she wants to be
  a sophisticated stripper.
  But the world's no longer
  sophisticated. Right, Jep?
  I know, only you and I are.
  That's right, goddammit!
  But she wants to keep doing
  this job, for the money.
  I don't know why
  she always needs money
  and what she fucking
  does with it.
• For drugs? - I wish,
  we'd have a common interest.
  She doesn't even drink beer.
  I don't know what she spends
  her money on, she's always broke.
• Do I seem like a loser?
• No, why?
  Because I can hear myself talk,
  I sound like a loser.
  I'm nearly 70 and I have to work
  till 6 in the morning every day.
  I swapped cocaine for heroin
  What an asshole!
  A heroin junkie at 50!
  Could I be more of a loser?
  But I'm not important,
  it's her I worry about, I love her.
  And I'm no loser there,
  I'm a father.
  And like all fathers, I'm worried.
  What'll she do in a few years?
  She can't be a stripper at 50!
• Why don't you fix her up?
• Me?
  Don't you know any rich guys
  who want a beautiful wife?
  We could change her name,
  that's no problem.
  You'd do me a big favour.
• I'm a writer, not a pimp.
• Sorry, I was a bit vulgar.
  Daddy's little girl, this is
  my good friend, Jep Gambardella.
  I'll leave you to it,
  I need the toilet.
  Be right back!
• Hi, I'm Jep.
• Ramona.
• If you want a girl, get a Pole.
• Are you kidding?
  Who wants a girl?
  Not me.
  I really am an old friend
  of your father's.
• Dad has no friends.
• He used to.
  When I came to Rome, I'd wait for
  my friends to leave to come here.
  Your father was a nice guy.
  He taught me loads of things,
  such as: vodka is uncouth.
  How useful!
  He asked me to find you a husband.
  He's obsessed.
  I'm not looking for a husband.
  Well, you should be.
• A family's a beautiful thing.
• I know.
  But I'm not cut out
  for beautiful things.
  What's wrong?
• I feel old.
• You're no spring chicken.
  One.
• How are you?
• Very well.
  Just got back from India,
  I had amazing dysentery.
  Come to my divorce party,
  I'll have burlesque dancers there.
  Of course.
  What present would you like?
  One big wish: for the wars
  in the Middle East to end.
• I'll do my best.
• Two.
  Thank you.
  Tell me, darling.
  Perhaps...
  I was thinking, my mouth...
  I'm scared, I've never
  done it before, professor.
  Don't call me professor.
  Call me "my friend" or "my love".
  We all need love.
  What star sign are you,
  deeply intense lady?
• Aquarius.
• I knew it!
  Want to go back 30 years, to when
  it rained at the end of August?
• Done.
• That's 700 euros.
  Three.
• You've been to see Casagrande!
• No, I don't even know him.
  You betrayed me, darling!
  We're undergoing a journey,
  and you've interrupted it.
  This is the last time.
  Go, go.
  Bye then.
• Full price.
• Five.
• How's your mom?
• She's fine, thank you.
• Seven.
• 700 euros.
  Have you filled out, darling?
  You're always in my heart.
• As handsome as ever.
• Ten.
• You're my pride.
• Thanks.
  Eleven.
  Professor, I'm here about
  my hyperhidrosis.
  Where does this undesired
  perspiration happen?
  On my hands.
• Pray for me, sister.
• You don't need my prayers.
  You don't know how much of my income
  I must surrender to the tax man.
  Go, sister, go.
  That's 700, sister.
  Fourteen.
• Spying on me?
• No, I was going to knock.
• When?
• When you were more relaxed.
• What brings you here?
• Nothing, I'm just curious.
• I told you what I think.
• I've no hidden agenda.
  Do you think every guy
  who comes near you wants sex?
  Perhaps they just want to talk,
  driven by simple
  and harmless curiosity.
• That's never happened to me.
• It has now.
  Wouldn't armbands be more
  comfortable?
  Yes, but they irritate my armpits.
  Any plans for lunch?
  I'm going to my mum's with my dad.
  So where's the dog?
  What dog?
  People buy houses like this
  so they can have dogs.
  I had a Labrador, but 9 years ago
  he got fed up and left me.
  Labradors are dumb.
  And Cocker Spaniels are dumb too.
  Hi, Jep.
  Hi, Antonello.
• You know Venditti?
• I know everyone.
  It must be very satisfying
  knowing so many people!
• You're guaranteed to be unhappy.
• Have people let you down?
  I've let them down.
  Andrea! Are you with your mom?
• She's parking.
• How are you?
  Not well.
  Proust says that death
  may come to us this afternoon.
  Proust is scary.
  Not tomorrow, not in a year,
  but this afternoon.
  But it's evening already
  so it'd be tomorrow afternoon.
  Turgenev said: "Death looked at me,
  noticing me."
  Don't take these writers
  so seriously!
  Who should I take seriously then?
  Nothing, apart from the menu,
  of course.
  Things are too complicated to be
  understood by one individual.
  Just because you don't understand
  doesn't mean nobody can.
• Your reply?
• My reply?
• Jep!
• Hello, Viola.
• Good evening.
• Viola.
  Darling, why don't you
  get a table for us?
  How did you find him?
• He's better.
• Good, very good.
  He's much better, I'm so happy!
• Dinner on Thursday?
• Of course!
  On Thursday I'm inexplicably free.
  Did you hear about Valentina Lemme?
  She's dating her personal trainer.
  Really? It doesn't show.
• I invited her anyway.
• Are you sure?
  She's nasty, you know.
  She's like the devil!
  Really? You think so?
  I see her at yoga twice a week.
• You'll come?
• Of course.
• See you Thursday.
• Okay.
  Goodbye.
  Watch that table carefully, but
  don't let them notice you looking.
  Waiter? Champagne, please.
  Cristal.
  You can't imagine
  how much one learns
  by living alongside
  a cluster of religious institutes.
  So that was your first time?
  Yes, he didn't think he'd been good,
  too quick, he said.
  So, out of anger or to let off
  steam, I'm not sure which,
  he got a football
  and played with it furiously!
  And you?
  I didn't enjoy making love with him,
  but seeing him with a football
  was an unforgettable thing!
  He became really good,
  he played on the national team.
  Your dad said you spend everything
  you earn.
  What on? You can tell me.
  Maybe one day. But why didn't you
  write another book?
  Because I went out too much
  at night.
  Rome makes you waste a lot of time.
  It's distracting.
  Writing requires focus and peace.
  That's not much of an answer.
  You have plenty of peace here,
  it's like being in the country.
  I wrote in short spurts.
  I was a sprint-style writer.
  I told you about my first time...
  but you've told me nothing.
  It's your turn now.
  On an island... one summer.
  I was...
  At the lighthouse, at night.
  I went to kiss her,
  she turned away.
  I was disappointed.
  But then she turned to look at me.
  She brushed me with her lips...
  she smelled of flowers.
  I didn't move,
  I wasn't able to move.
  Then she took a step back...
  and said...
  She took a step back.
  And said...
  I'm going home, it's late.
  Want to come to a party
  tomorrow night?
  Outstanding!
  Did you want us to die tonight?
  You won't believe it,
  but I love knife throwers.
  A true likeness,
  especially the hips.
  A masterpiece, Geronimo.
  It'll look great on the mantelpiece.
  God bless you, Jep!
  This is Ramona.
  What a unique and marvellous
  creature.
• Is he taking the piss?
• It's hard to know.
  I was being honest.
  I'm just sorry you missed
  Geronimo D.
• What a tragedy!
• Come in, make yourselves at home.
• Who is that asshole?
• Lillo De Gregorio.
  The greatest modern art collector
  in this debauched country.
• What's Jep's floozy friend wearing?
• I don't know.
  Jep's proving to be
  a disappointment.
• Good evening, countess.
• Hello, you're looking well.
  I wish I could say that same
  about the count. Hello, ladies!
  Are you stupid?
  You're distracting my artist.
  Dad, we're having fun.
  Carmelina, come and do some work.
  Mom, I want to play here.
• Has this human being gone mad?
• We'll sort it out.
• I'm not coming, I'm staying here.
• You don't mean that.
  Europe's greatest gallery owners
  are outside.
  If you show them what you can do
  then ours will be a happy family.
  But I'm already happy,
  I want to be a vet one day.
  Get to bed, you two!
  My kids are going to bed.
  Come.
  I'll go to bed too.
  I'm a kid too.
  She blushes and says:
  "Forgive me, I didn't know
  you loved me so much.
  My ignorance is obscene."
  He looks at her, reassuringly,
  and says:
  "Let me defend our love".
  How's that for the start
  of the second act?
  You've written a pile of shit.
  That girl was crying.
  Nonsense!
  That girl earns millions!
  Excuse me a moment.
• Hi, Stefano.
• Hi.
• The catering's gone downhill.
• Rome's gone downhill.
  Steeply downhill!
  Do you have the case with you?
• I always do.
• You up for it?
  See that?
  Stefano has the keys to Rome's
  most beautiful buildings.
  Is he a doorman?
  No, he's not a doorman.
  He's friends with princesses.
  Are you ready?
  Come with me.
  Good evening, Princesses.
  Good evening.
  How come you have all these keys?
  Because...
  I'm a trustworthy person.
  Did you see? It looked huge,
  but it's tiny.
  Stay still, I'll take a photo of you.
  Don't move.
  That's no good.
  Laugh.
  Got it?
  Yes, that's good.
  Many think that a funeral,
  is a fortuitous event,
  without any rules.
  That's not true.
  A funeral is a high-society event
  par excellence.
  You must never forget
  that at a funeral
  you are appearing on stage.
  Nice.
  Nice, but try the other one.
  You must patiently wait
  for the relatives to disperse.
  Once you are sure
  that all the guests are seated...
  only at that point, may you offer
  your condolences to the family.
  In this way, everyone will see you.
  You take the mourner's hands,
  and rest yours on their arms.
  You whisper something to them,
  a comforting phrase,
  said with authority.
  For example:
  "In the days to come,
  when you feel the void,
  I want you to know
  that you can always count on me."
  The public will ask...
  "What's Jep Gambardella saying?"
  This is definitely the right dress.
  You're allowed to retire
  to a corner by yourself,
  as if contemplating your sorrow.
  However, another matter
  must be approached with shrewdness.
  The chosen place needs
  to be isolated
  but clearly visible
  to the public.
  Besides, a performance is good when
  it is devoid of any superfluity.
  So, the fundamental rule:
  one must never cry at a funeral.
  You must never steal the show
  from the family's sorrow.
  That is forbidden.
  Because it is immoral.
  Viola.
  In the days to come,
  when you feel the void,
  you can always count on me.
  Now I ask Andrea's friends
  to come forward,
  so that the coffin
  may be carried outside.
  Your back!
  It was nice not making love.
  It was nice loving each other.
  I'd forgotten what loving someone
  was about, I'd forgotten that.
  I spend all my money to cure myself.
  Your breakfast.
  Come on, I'm taking you to see
  a sea monster today.
  Your breakfast.
  Five more minutes.
  Can you see the sea?
  Where?
  On the ceiling.
  Yes, I can see it.
  Who's going to look after you now?
  I'm sorry about your daughter.
  My condolences.
  I spent all my summers
  making plans for September.
  Not any longer.
  Now I spend the summer
  remembering the good intentions
  which vanished.
  In part because of laziness,
  in part because of carelessness.
  What's wrong
  with feeling nostalgic?
  It's the only distraction left
  for those
  who've no faith
  in the future!
  Without rain...
  August is coming to an end
  and September isn't arriving.
  And I'm so ordinary!
  But there's no need to worry.
  It's all right, it's okay.
  Bravo!
  Thank you.
  What are you doing here?
  Arturo!
  Why are you here?
  Don't you see?
  I'm rehearsing my magic show.
  This is tomorrow's special number:
  the vanishing giraffe.
  You can make this giraffe vanish?
  Of course I can make
  the giraffe vanish!
  Then make me vanish too.
  Jep, do you think that if I could
  really make people vanish
  I'd still be here at my age
  playing these circus games?
  It's just a trick.
  It's just a trick!
  Romano, how did it go?
  Well, they clapped.
  I'm glad.
• So why are you so sad?
• I'm not sad.
  What's with the giraffe?
  For a magic show.
  I'll come and see you tomorrow.
  I'm not doing the show tomorrow.
  Why not? You said it went well.
  I'm leaving, I'm going back
  to my home town, for good.
  I won't even pack up my things,
  I'll leave it all.
  I've lived in this city
  for 40 years.
  And in the end I thought...
  the only person
  who deserved a goodbye
  was you.
  So you're leaving?
  Romano... why are you leaving?
  Rome has really disappointed me.
  Bye, Jep.
  See?
• Want some coffee?
• No, thanks. I know you're busy.
  I need to ask you something.
  Go ahead.
  Why did Elisa leave me?
  I don't know.
  Didn't she say anything about it
  in her diary?
  No, I don't think so.
  Would you be offended
  if I asked to read it?
  No, I wouldn't.
  In fact, I'd understand.
  But I'm afraid I can't
  let you read it.
  Why not?
  Because a few days after the
  funeral, I threw it away.
  May I introduce you
  to my girlfriend?
  Hello, my name's Polina.
  Like Polina in "The Gambler"
  by Dostoyevsky.
  What are you doing tonight?
  Nothing.
  Polina's going to finish ironing...
  then we'll drink a glass
  of red wine.
  We'll watch some television
  and go to bed.
  What about you?
  I'll have a lot of drinks, but not
  so many as to become unruly.
  And then...
  when you'll be getting up
  I'll be going to bed.
  What lovely people you are!
  I love doing the train!
  I'll screw you.
  "Who am I?"
  That's how
  one of Breton's novels began.
  And of course in the book
  there's no reply.
• Did you hear about Viola?
• What?
  She's donating everything
  to the church.
  She works in the parish
  and is going to volunteer in Africa.
  The trains at our parties
  are the best ones in Rome!
• You think so?
• I do.
  They're the best because
  they go nowhere.
• Well?
• It's wonderful, thank you.
  Come on, it's all gone.
  Tell me why you left me, please.
  I want an explanation, please!
  Go away!
  Get out! Get out!
  You see all these people?
  They can't do anything.
  But I know how to do something.
  We know how to do something.
  How sweet!
  They've been asking me for years
  why I don't write another novel.
  But look at these people.
  This wildlife!
  This is my life
  and it's nothing.
  Flaubert wanted to write a book
  about nothing but he failed,
  so could I do it?
  It's nice.
  Thanks, rascal.
  What inspired this exhibition?
  It wasn't my idea
  to do this photo exhibition.
  It was my father's idea.
  When I was born, he starting taking
  photos of me, every day.
  One photo per day.
  He never forgot, not even once.
  From the age of 14 upwards,
  I continued.
  I photographed myself every day.
  Go ahead.
• Cardinal!
• Your Eminence!
  Cardinal,
  when will The Saint arrive in Rome?
  On Thursday,
  but please don't call her The Saint.
  She is a Saint but not technically.
  Tell me something,
  who is that cardinal?
• That's Bellucci.
• Bellucci?
• The one in line to be...
• Exactly.
  The papal throne awaits him.
  I met him at Giada Ricci's
  carnival party.
  Rumour has it that he used to be
  Europe's best exorcist.
• Are you pulling my leg?
• No.
  I never joke about the devil.
  Do you know I'm very, very bored.
  We're having a great, great time.
  You cut up the duck.
  Cook it on a high flame
  for 1 5 minutes.
  At that point...
  Cardinal, do you remember me?
  Lello Cava.
  We met at Giada Ricci's party.
  I was dressed as an escort.
  Come, they're starting
  to serve lunch.
  I'd like you meet my writer friend,
  Jep Gambardella.
  A writer!
  This country needs writers.
  Actually I thought it was more
  in need of priests.
  Help.
• May I ask you a question?
• Of course, my dear man.
  Well, for some time now...
  from a spiritual point of view...
• Skunk hunt?
• Of course, I'll lead the way!
  I know the Tebaldi grounds well.
  Jep Gambardella, the king
  of socialites! You're losing it.
  I've been losing it for 40 years.
  It's a steady decline.
  Tell me something, Stefania.
  Have we ever slept with each other?
  Of course not!
  That's an awfully big mistake!
  We must make amends, immediately.
  Idiot.
  Thank goodness.
  We still have something nice
  to do together.
  The future is marvellous, Stefania.
  To be honest, Catellani
  hasn't had many brushed fabrics
  in recent years.
  In my opinion, Rebecchi's still
  the best tailor in Rome.
• Who are you?
• A hard-working man.
  One who, while you play the artist
  and have fun with your friends,
  keeps this country going.
  I keep this country going,
  but many people
  haven't understood that yet.
  Imagine that, Dadina,
  Giulio Moneta was my neighbour.
  One of the world's 1 0 most wanted
  men and I never noticed.
  You've changed,
  you're always thinking.
  Maybe I should do what Romano did.
  I'm not fit for this life
  or this city.
  Nobody's fit for shit, dammit.
  Take it from the queen of misfits.
  Everything around me is dying.
  People who are younger than me,
  things...
  All before my eyes and I...
  And you're suffering.
  And you don't understand.
  How's the soup, Little Jep?
  The soup's good.
  Why did you call me Little Jep? No
  one's called me that for centuries.
  Because a friend,
  every now and again,
  needs to make their friend
  feel like they did as a child.
  How can I make you feel
  like a little girl?
  You don't need to, I feel
  like a little girl every day!
  I've seen the world from
  their viewpoint for 60 years.
  You know Sister Maria,
  the missionary,
  the one they call the Saint?
  Yes, she's coming to Rome
  to receive some honour.
  Exactly. In all her life,
  she's only given three interviews.
  -Yours will be memorable.
  -Yeah sure, think of Giulio Moneta!
  This is different.
  She studied in Italy
  and speaks Italian.
  She read your book and loved it.
  She wants to meet you
  so I organised a dinner party
  at your house tomorrow.
• Did I do well?
• You did very well.
  Tomorrow I'll have the honour
  of dining with her.
• At the Holy Father's?
• No.
  No, at Jep Gambardella's.
  You see, the Pope even invited
  the enclosed nuns.
  Sisters, sisters, sisters!
  Sisters, sisters...
  Yes, perfect!
  Ah, the Red Cross nurses!
  Well-toned!
  Okay, great...
  What handsome young men!
  Great!
  Let's go!
  The Saint's assistant called me.
  The Saint would like Count and
  Countess Odescalchi to come too,
  as they treated her like a sister
  when she lived in Italy.
• Do you know them? - Of course,
  but they are not in Rome.
  All the nobles are in London,
  at Philip's great-niece's wedding.
  Let's call the Colonnas of Reggio.
  The nobles for hire?
  They're dead.
  Nonsense, they're immortal.
  The Saint won't even notice,
  This piece of furniture
  looks great...
  -Who would've thought!
  -It looks great, like a new bathroom!
  Count Colonna speaking.
  Yes, we are available.
  For tonight.
  Our rate is 250 euros per person
  for the evening.
  Plus the cost of the car hire.
  This would be somewhat
  humiliating for us...
  We are willing to be hired
  as the Colonnas of Reggio.
  But as for pretending to be
  the Odescalchis...
  I don't know...
  We were at war for two centuries.
  I feel it's immoral.
  Cut at least twelve pieces
  of rabbit!
  Set aside the kidneys, liver,
  head...
  Gently brown.
  Don't forget thyme,
  laurel leaves, rosemary...
  Then red wine, Ligurian olives...
  pine nuts.
  And after an hour,
  you have Ligurian-style rabbit!
  Sister Maria, what convent
  are you staying at?
  Actually, we're at the Hassler Hotel
  at the Spanish Steps.
  To be honest, Sister Maria
  finds it uncomfortable.
  Never heard the Hassler
  described as uncomfortable!
  It's very comfortable
  but Sister Maria isn't used
  to sleeping in a bed.
  She sleeps on the floor,
  in a cardboard bed.
  Do you have any visits planned?
  Sister Maria will climb
  St John's Basilica's Scala Sancta
  on her knees.
• Have you?
• I'd have liked to, but...
  I have a bad knee...
  Orthopedic problems
  are unimportant,
  compared to the partial indulgence
  granted by the Scala Sancta.
  That's true! Another speciality
  of mine is lamb with...
  Does Sister Maria still help
  the sick?
  She washes them, feeds them...
  You ought to see her.
  Despite her age,
  she doesn't walk, she runs.
  Now she's tired, but that's because
  she's not with her patients.
  How old is she?
  She'll be 1 04 in October.
• That's impressive.
• I thought she was older!
  Longevity too, like all things,
  is not accidental.
  About Sister Maria's interview
  with Jep...
  Her interview?
  There must be a mix-up...
  Sister Maria hasn't given
  any interviews since 1 971 ,
  after the reason
  for her mission in Chad,
  was misunderstood by some.
  Of course, but considering
  her admiration for Jep's work...
  You told me she enjoyed
  "The Human Apparatus".
  She found it beautiful and fierce.
  Like the world of men.
  Great! There would be no risk
  of any misunderstanding,
  Sister Maria can review the text...
• No, I'm sorry.
• Don't insist.
  I don't wish to raise
  any false hopes,
  there's absolutely
  no question of any interview.
  Sorry, but why do
  you always answer?
  Why not let Sister Maria talk?
  Madam...
  I took a vow of poverty.
  And you can't talk about poverty...
  you have to live it.
  Such true and real words!
  Powerful words!
  Do you need anything, madam?
• She needs the bathroom.
• It's on the left.
  The change of diet
  isn't good for her.
  Sister Maria, in Mali, only eats
  Me too sometimes, in the evening,
  as a light meal,
  I have some splendid
  roots with lemon.
  You clean the roots
  by scraping them with a knife
  and you cut them into small
  chunks...
  Cardinal, remember when we met
  at that wedding?
  You were there too...
  I felt the need to ask you
  about matters close to my heart.
  Matters regarding faith...
  regarding the strength
  of spirituality...
  But then you got distracted.
  You can ask me now.
• No, I don't see the point.
• Why?
  I'd be very disappointed to discover
  that you have no answers.
  I'm only saying
  it's a possibility...
  I think that...
  Never mind...
  I apologize for earlier.
  There is one question
  I really want to ask you.
  Are the rumours about you true?
  That you were a truly great...
  exorcist?
  Sister Maria...
  Sister Maria!
• Sister Maria!
• Saint...
• Have you seen her?
• No, she's not there.
• Sister Maria!
• Saint...
  Sister Maria!
  Saint!
  She's called Sister Maria.
  Sister Maria...
  Where has that bitch got to?
  Sister Maria!
  My goodness!
  Come, Elisabetta, let's go to bed.
  You go ahead, I'm going upstairs
  for a moment.
  Don't be late.
  In this room, in 1 930,
  Princess Antonietta gave birth
  to her only daughter,
  Elisabetta Colonna of Reggio.
  The princess died
  after giving birth.
  Young Elisabetta,
  in these opulent rooms,
  had a happy and carefree
  childhood.
  But shortly after, the financial
  hardship endured by Prince Erminio,
  forced him to sell the property.
  They're migrating west...
  but now they are resting.
  Did you know
  that I know the Christian names...
  of all of these birds?
  Why...
  did you never write another book?
  I was looking for the great beauty,
  but...
  I didn't find it.
  Do you know...
  why...
  I only eat roots?
  No, why?
  Because roots are important.
  Now there's something
  I want to show you.
  This is how it always ends.
  With death.
  But first there was life.
  Hidden beneath the blah, blah, blah.
  It is all settled beneath
  the chitter chatter and the noise.
  Silence and sentiment.
  Emotion and fear.
  The haggard, inconstant
  flashes of beauty.
  And then the wretched squalor
  and miserable humanity.
  All buried under the cover of the
  embarrassment of being in the world.
  Beyond there is what lies beyond.
  I don't deal
  with what lies beyond.
  Therefore...
  let this novel begin.
  After all... it's just a trick.
  Yes, it's just a trick.