All language subtitles for Ferrari.2023.2160p.iTunes.WEB-DL.DDP.5.1.Atmos.H.265-NukeHD

["Febbre Della Giungla" playing]

[singing in Italian]

[song ends]

[birds chirping]

[kisses]

[sighs]

[car engine rumbles]

[engine revs]

[passengers chattering]

[announcer speaking Italian
on loudspeaker]

[telephone ringing]

[ringing continues]

Yes?

Please inform
Signor Ferrari

that the Maserati driver
Jean Behra has just arrived
from Milan.

Hmm. Thank you.

Thank you, most excellent
and gracious signora.

[telephone ringing]

Yes?

Laura. It's Chiti. Is he there?

He's taking a shower.

Give him a message, please.
Jean Behra is in town.

[line clicks]

How are you?

Signor Ferrari?

Signor Ferrari!

May I present myself?

I am Alfonso de Portago.

[tires squeal]

[opera member] Wow.

[people chattering in Italian]

[applause]

It's Ferrari.

Good morning, Enzo!
Your friends are back.

This time, I hope in tune.

More in tune
than your cars in Monaco
last week.

Enzo! We have to talk.

That bad?

I will come by later.

[door opening]

[footsteps approaching]

[door opens, creaks]

[door closes]

[telephone ringing]

[Ferrari] Yes.

[Chiti] Behra is here.

The Orsi brothers
collected him at the station.

Did signora tell you?

The word is

he's going to challenge
our record.

Is the 801 ready?

After the Workers Mass at 9:00.
After that.

I'll call Castellotti.

Behra's here.

[line buzzing]
Really?

So many phone calls,
I thought Frank Sinatra
came to town.

Hotel Medici, Firenze.
What do I tell them?

"Excuse me, please,
my husband isn't here.

He's out whoring.
Grazie, buongiorno."

Signor Castellotti, please.
Enzo.

I don't give a fuck
who you screw or how many.

But the rule is
that you have to be here

before the maid arrives
with the morning coffee.

-That was the agreement,
was it not?
-Laura, please.

Buongiorno, signora,
Commendatore.

[telephone ringing]

Pronto.

[Ferrari] Eugenio, my boy.

Commendatore.

Can you be at
the Modena Autodrome by 11:00?

Bring your lucky gloves.

What gloves?

The gloves that will beat Behra,

who's come to steal
from you our record.

I'll be there.

Good.
[maid]
Will that be all, signora?

That'll be all.

Laura, the car broke.

[gasps]

What's going on in there?

Her gentleness, the signora,
is trying to shoot
the Commendatore.

Buongiorno, Peppino.
I let him live.

That gun was given to you
for your protection.

And talk to Cuoghi.
You're going broke.

I knew it would come to this.

You gave her a gun,
she'll use it.

She carries
the payroll for the factory
around in that handbag.

I'd rearm Germany
before I gave that woman a gun.

Peppino will take you
and Laura to the cemetery
this morning.

And don't forget
the Workers Mass

unless you want
to pay higher wages next year.

Don't fight with Laura.

Mm.

Good morning.
No one was hurt,
so don't make a fuss.

What?

What have I said?

[bell tolling]

Morning, Commendatore.

Good morning.

[customer] Did you know
who was in the car?

It was Jean Behra.

Don't panic, Matteo.
If they take the record,
we shall take it back.

How did our football team
do yesterday?

You know damn well.
We lost.

Oh, one long catalog
of disaster it's been.

How long
since you took over?

What about Le Mans?

Jaguar one, two and three.
What's that?

Well, from my mistakes I learn,
whereas the mistakes you make
you repeat, week after week.

When you play Bologna,
I hope you win.

Otherwise I have to
relocate the factory

so the drivers
are not dispirited
by living in a city

whose football team dwells
in the perpetual twilight
of failure.

The Modena Football Club
is the pride of Emilia.

[all scoff, laugh]

Cuoghi wants to meet.

That means bad news.

[sighs]

Now, your mother missed
on purpose.

One day she won't,
and then I'll be in here
with you.

[exhales]

I'm hearing voices
in my sleep again.

My brother.

And my father.

No, I see their faces too.

But also now,

Campari and Borzacchini,

my two good friends
who died on the same day

24 years ago this week
at Monza

on that evil afternoon.

Ghosts.

There was a time
I loved your mother...

beyond reason.

Well, she was
a different creature then.

But so was I.

And I see you too, you know.

Every moment I close my eyes.

[sobs]

Your face I want to see.

[sniffles]

Okay.

Okay. [sighs]

I go to deal with today.

[engine stops]

[car engine starts]

Did I tell you
of my son Alfredo,
Enzo's older brother?

Many times, signora.

A tragedy.

I lost him in the Great War.

Yes, signora.

Let me tell you,

the wrong son died.

[chuckles softly]

[bell tolling]

[sobs softly]

[choir singing
"Jesu, Rex admirabilis"]

[bell ringing]

[bishop]
If Jesus had lived today

and not two thousand years ago,

he would have been born
in a small town like Modena.

He would have been
not a carpenter

but a craftsman in metal
like yourselves.

So a God,

who understood,
as a carpenter,
the perfection of the adze,

appreciates, as an engineer,
the precision of your lathe.

The nature of metal.

How it can be forged,
shaped

and hammered by your skills
into an engine,

holding inside a fire
to make power

to speed us through the world.

Which is why we give thanks
to him today.

[engine revving]

Are you okay?

[choir singing
"Ave Verum Corpus, K. 618"]

[bishop reciting in Latin]

[bell rings]

[engine roars]

[bishop continues in Latin]

[bell rings]

[stopwatches ticking]

[ticking echoes]

[choir continues singing]

[tires squeal]

[ticking continues]

[ticking continues]

[singing stops]

[bishop]
May God be with you.

Now go in peace.

In nomine Patris,
Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

Amen.
[congregation] Amen.

Very good. Okay. Great.

[engine revs]

Great.

Great, great.

Very, very good.

1:32.7.

I had 1:32.9.

[onlooker]
Signor Ferrari, a Maserati--

Only for the moment.

When do we take it back?

Right now.

[engine revving]

Okay!

[Ferrari]
Glad you could make it,
Eugenio.

Okay, take it easy
till the tires warm up,

then put your foot down.

She'll do 1:30
if given a chance.

Look after Cecilia, will you?

[engine revving]

[sporting director]
Two laps, and the tires
will be warm.

[Chiti] That's good.

Cecilia Manzini?

I knew your mother.

One minute 34.

He's slow.

Signor Ferrari?

Alfonso de Portago.

We met on the Largo Garibaldi.

Yes, sir. I was seeking
to introduce myself.

Yeah, but the light,
it turned green.

You bought one
of my cars last year
and won the Tour de France.

Yes.

Now I'm looking
for a works drive.

I don't need another driver,
Portago.

-[gear stick clunks]
-[engine revs]

[gear stick clunks]

[tires squeal]

[Cecilia gasping]

[sirens wailing]

[Ferrari] De Portago.

Call my office on Monday.

I woke you.
No, I was up.

Did I wake the boy?

Let me.

[sniffs]

You haven't said a word.

What is there to say?

The newspapers, the radio,
they have it all.

They do?

Was he your friend,
the young Castellotti?

Or was it your fault?
The car's fault? His fault?

Will you miss him?
Does that bring the boy back?

Why do you push like that?
Why do you think?

I know it matters to you.

To me? Come on.

Twenty-four years ago
this week,

I lost two friends.

Campari and Borzacchini.

At Monza,
in the metal I made.

So I knew then it was,

"Enzo, build a wall."

Or?

Or, "Enzo,
go do something else."

[sniffs]

"Ferrari
is an industrial Saturn
devouring his own children.

First Tornaco,
now Castellotti."

If you continue
killing the nation's heroes,

we'll have to
go to America
and live among foreigners.

I did not kill Castellotti.
The papers blame you.

It wasn't me.

If anyone,
it was his mother.

It's true.

He was engaged
to Cecilia Manzini.

His mother wanted him
to marry a woman
with more class.

As a result of the weight
she put on his shoulders,

he became distracted,

he lost his concentration,
he crashed and died.

He blames the mother!

What I'm saying is,
when a mother interferes
in this business,

death usually follows.

Call the bank.

Cancel Castellotti's salary.

And call Chiti.

I need a report on the car
for the insurers.

Yes, signora.

There's Ferrari.

Why is the damn top down?

I didn't want
to get it wet.

It belongs to King Hussein.
Get it inside.

And make sure the cockpit's dry
before you hand it over.

[test driver]
Yes, sir, Commendatore.

Stall the king and tell them
to get a move on in the shop.

Yes, Commendatore.

So?

You're going broke.
Laura's right.

How?
How?

You spend more than you make,
that's how.

The production cars
pay for the racing.

I could run Portugal
on what you spend on racing.

How many production cars
did you make last year?

Uh, 140, 150.

Ninety-eight.
198.

No. Ninety-eight.

So what do I do?

Find a partner.

I have a partner. My wife.
She is very mean with money.

A real partner.

Like Agnelli at Fiat
or Henry Ford.

Someone who has capital
to pump in.

No. Impossible.
With money,
they want control.

I must have total control.

The right partner would help
with the production cars,

while you do what you like
with the racing.

Increase production
to 400 customer cars a year.

Attract finance.

Then you can negotiate.

How do we make--
never mind how do we sell--
400 customer cars a year?

Jaguar took the first
three places at Le Mans.

Now their sales books
are full.

You win on Sunday,
you sell on Monday.

You already have kings
waiting in line.
Mm, Jaguar.

Jaguar races
only to sell cars.

I sell cars
only to be racing.

We are completely
different organisms.

Survive,
or you are no organism.

[telephone ringing]
Hello.

I am Alfonso de Portago.

I have an appointment
with Signor Ferrari.

Take a seat, please.

Win the Mille Miglia, Enzo.

Attract outside finance.

Or you are
out of business.

[secretary] Signor Ferrari,
this is Don Alfonso--

Yeah, I know who it is.
Cuoghi!

The Marquis de Portago!

[door opens]

Hey, Ferrari!

Cuoghi!

One more thing.

How did Laura get her hands
on the freehold to the plant?

The Nazis were
about to arrest me.

I put it in her name
along with half the shares.

We built it together.

Get it back.

If you face up
to Agnelli or Ford,

you have to hold
all the cards.

Well, it's easier said
than done.

[Hussein] Ferrari!

Ah.

Your Majesty!

One more thing.

If I'm in bad shape,
what of Maserati?

Worse.
I give them six months.

They've gone to the French
for finance.

And they, too,
will try to prove themselves
at the Mille Miglia.

Everyone's eye will be on it.
Only one team will win.

Make sure it's you.

-Your Highness!
-Which Highness?

That Highness.
You, get out to the track.

Your Majesty, come this way.

I hope you got
my measurements right.

Last time my feet could
barely touch the pedals.
Of course.

[shutter clicks]

[shutter clicks]

He drives like Varzi.

[tires squeal]

[engine stops]

[De Portago grunts]

Well,

how did I do?

[Ferrari]
You drive like Varzi.

Your duties will include
testing and road racing.

[De Portago]
The Mille Miglia?
You'll drive a works 250.

Not the most powerful car,

but reliable
and it goes like hell
round corners,

so I'll expect you
to be in the points.

Actresses.

I have admiration,
but keep them away
from the paddock.

They distract photographers,
whose attention I want
on my cars.

Understand?

Okay.

[Ferrari] Peter.

[Collins chuckles]

Look after our new driver.
He's wet and hungry.

Hello, Fon.

How do you do?
Pa. Papa, Papa!

What are you doing here?

Get the autograph.
Whose, Collins?

No, de Portago's.

All right.

[Collins]
I could eat a horse.

Stop pretending
you can count.

Good to see you.
How are you?
How's your son?

Fon.

Mike Hawthorn,
future world champion.

The famous von Trips.

Olivier Gendebien,
the best sports car driver
in the world.

Taruffi, the oldest.
Truly the best.

[Collins]
Chiti, the best engineer,
but always, always anxious.

And Scaglietti.

Working on a project so secret
we are not allowed to discuss.

[De Portago]
Arrivederci, Maserati.
[laughter]

[Hawthorn]
So, de Portago, what brings you
to this neck of the woods

when everyone knows
the future of chassis technology
with rear engines is in England?

Rear engines?
[Hawthorn] Yes.

The ox must pull the cart.

What we need is more power.
You hear that, Chiti?

But they turn quick.

And have
no straight-line speed.

And the English,
they have a new invention
called brakes,

unlike my 250.
[laughter]

[Ferrari]
All right. To de Portago.

[all] Cheers.

-[Ferrari]
To de Portago's hair.
-[laughter]

Don't you think?

Fon!

Are you running around
like that?

Oh!
[moans]

[laughs]

[continues laughing]

[Lina sighs]

[chuckles softly]

What's so funny?

Uh...

I wondered
when you'd be back.

How can I stay away?
It's the plums.

[scoffs]

Where's Piero?

On his way home from school.

He asked me yesterday.
What?

"Am I Piero Lardi
or Piero Ferrari?"

[door opens, closes]

[Piero] Papa!

Have you got it?

The autograph. No.

Oh.
He hasn't, uh,

had a proper picture
taken yet.

What autograph?

De Portago.
From Spain.

He's going
to drive for me.

Great.

Why do you like him so much?

He drives like Varzi.

I'm going
to be a driver.
Like you.

No, not like me.
I only won a few races.

This is much better.

Why?

Okay.

Pretend you're inside
this engine.

In the intake manifold.

Right here. Really pretend.

You're tiny.

The size of a little ant.

Now look up.

It's silver.

What do you see?

A big tunnel.

Like a pipe, yes?

Now pretend
water races through.

And when it hits this side,
what does it do?

Some will splash sideways.

But if I make the curve
more gentle,

more slippery,

what does it do?

It will go faster.

Fuel and air will move faster
just like the water.

And that is all an engine does.

Moves fuel in,

sparks them
into rapid expansion,

moves old gases out,
new fuel in.

And the faster it can do that,
the more power you make.

It looks better.

Does it?

I have a secret
to tell you.

In all life,

when a thing works better,

usually it is more beautiful
to the eye.

[chuckles]

[Lina]
Piero, go wash up.

Mmm.

Are you staying to eat?

I'll sit with you and Piero.

Will you come back after?

It depends. I'll try.
Mm, depends on what?

On how business with her goes.

[grunts, sighs]

I'm too easy.

What do you mean?

Too modern.

I should give you lots of shit
like a normal Italian woman.

I prefer you like you are.

Oh, I'm sure you do.

What I should become
is the mistress.

"Oh, Enzo!
I feel so sad.

Buy me a fur coat
and a diamond necklace."

Piero!

Sit down.

Don't worry.
I do not plan
to change who I am.

Thank you.
Thank you?

For nothing.

It's not for you.

Do you know
the hardest part
of my life with you?

There is none.
There is.

What?
Being away.

While with me--
what do the English say?

A piece of pie?

Cake, Enzo.
And you're not.

[Ferrari] Thank you, Alda.

Those are from Cuoghi.

He says our days are numbered
unless we find a new partner.

One of the big companies.
Fiat or Ford.

No.

You've never had a boss.
You won't like it.

In order
to attract this partner,
he says we have to expand.

He's talking about
building 400 cars a year.

How do we sell 400 cars a year?

We have to win the Mille Miglia,
then orders for sports cars
will follow.

This man knows contract law.
What does he know
about motor racing?

Hmm?

A thousand miles
across bad roads
with sheep and dogs.

Anything can happen.

What else?

What else?

You should assign me control
of your stock in the company
and the freehold,

uh, so I can deal.

Oh.

Because Henry Ford
won't deal with a woman.

No.

Because if it comes to a deal,
it'll be hard and fast.

I have to have all the cards
in my hand.

Well, half the cards
are in my hand.
Laura.

What do you want me to say?

"Mr. Ford, we have a deal,
but first I must wait until
I ask my wife for permission"?

Yes, you can say that.

You know what?

I'm gonna give you
power of attorney over my stock,

so you can deal.

For half a million dollars.

I don't have half a million!

You will if you make a deal.

Okay, I'll give you a check.

Post-dated.

Not post-dated.

I'll give you a check
on condition you promise
not to cash it

until and unless
the deal goes through.

Is that reasonable?

Is that reasonable?

We need this.

One condition.

What?

I want my gun back.

What?

I want my gun back.

[Ferrari moans]

[Laura moaning]

[Ferrari panting]

[shouts]

[table thumping]

Did you sign de Portago?
Yes.

I'll draw up a contract.

And I need money
for Cecilia Manzini.

How much money?

25,000.

What?

25,000?

She's broke.

Her mother told me.

Her mother?

Have you been
fucking her mother?

What?

Are you crazy?

I want $25,000 in cash.

Ah, you've been fucking
the mother and the daughter.

We have obligations
to that family.
Both.

Oh, obligations.
So compassionate.
Sympathetic.

Bullshit.

Fucking bullshit.

I am compassionate!

Five.

Ten.

Fifteen million lire.

Or 25,000 US dollars.

Please.

How do you want me
to enter this?

As a bequest
to Signora Manzini.

To buy a property.

She'll have the use of it,
but we'll retain the freehold.

Ah, the same arrangement
as in, uh, Castelvetro.

Castelvetro?

We have a property
in Castelfranco.

[bank manager]
Oh. Yes, yes.

I'm sorry.
I got the towns confused.
[chuckles]

I also need a banker's order
for a new driver.

His name is de Portago.

How do you spell that?

D-E

P-O-R-T-A-G-O.

Thank you.

Thank you.

[sighs deeply]

Castelvetro.

As her gentleness,
the signora, commands.

Commendatore!

The press conference.

[telephone ringing]

[Ferrari chuckles]

He's dating Linda Christian,
that blonde
who follows him around.

Who is?
De Portago.

Tyrone Power
left Rita Hayworth
for the blonde.

She left Tyrone Power
for de Portago.

What are you reading,
Commendatore?

"Rome Merry-Go-Round."

Here's who will be there.

And I will exclude
Di Massimo and Fusaro.
They are the worst.

No, no, no.

I want them there.

So what do you think?

[sighs]
Ah, there is no ashtray.

Are you a prima donna?

You ever tried
flicking ash out of a car
at 200 kilometers an hour?

I'm offering you a brand-new car
which has the edge on Maserati.

Bullshit.
The Maserati is faster
and it has an ashtray.

If I put in an ashtray,
will you drive it
in the Mille Miglia?

[sighs]

Good.

And don't ask me
for a navigator.
Wha--

You know every inch.
You've raced it 16 times.

I can see in your eyes
you're going to ask me,

and I'm not seduced
by you, silver fox.

Get all these cleaned up
before the photo call.

How'd she handle?
Good.

This is not,
"How was lunch?" "Good."

I want to know brake wear.

I want steering, suspension,
gear ratios, final drive.

If it's going to run
in the Mille Miglia,
it's got to be 100%.

Here, talk to him.

[assistant] Go. Get inside.

[journalists chattering]

Okay, Di Massimo.

Signor Ferrari.

-I'm not an assassin.
-It was a figure of speech.

Uh, Commendato--
[Ferrari] Out!

[Di Massimo] Commendatore.
Out.

Fusaro.

You said I was Saturn
devouring his young children.

I was merely
quoting the Vatican,
Commendatore.

-You too. Out.
-[journalists grumbling]

And you, Moretti.

A "widow-maker."

For the record, Castellotti
was not married, okay?

Out.

When we win,

I can't see my cars
for shots of starlets' asses.

When we lose,
you're a lynch mob.

[journalists protesting]

It's enough
to make the pope weep.

Next.

Let me introduce
my spring team
for the Mille Miglia.

[journalists clamoring]
Signor Ferrari! Ferrari!

[Ferrari]
This is de Portago,

Castellotti's
replacement.

But he drives
like Varzi.

Hey, Fon, is it true
about Linda Christian?

She's your girlfriend?

Don't answer that question.

This is my old friend Taruffi.

Last time he was second.

This time
he will be first.

Peter Collins.
Future world champion.

Taffy von Trips. A tiger.

And this is
Olivier Gendebien,

the fastest driver
of road cars in the world.

[journalists clamoring]
[camera flashes firing]

[photographer 1]
Yes, all together.

[photographer 2] Smile.
A smile. Look at me, sir.

[all shouting] Linda! Linda!

[photographer 3]
Linda, look over here!

Linda, big smile!
A shot of you by the car!

Linda!
Linda, with the car!

[clamoring continues]

Rancati, a word after.

A word after.
[photographer 4] Smile!

Hey, Linda!

Stop.

Stop.

Go back.

Go back.

Turn right.

[Ferrari] Giuseppe.

Rancati, there's something
I want you to do for me.

Write an article

suggesting
that there are rumors

that I'm talking
to Henry Ford II

about the future
of the factory.

At the end,
say you asked me, bluntly,

and that
I categorically denied it.

And are you?
Categorically denying it?

Ah, yes, of course.
Categorically, I deny it.

If I write this article,

will you give me an exclusive
on your private life?

Yes.

If you promise
not to publish it.

For the time being.

Until I authorize it.

Okay. It's a deal.

[engine stops]

[car door closes]

You're going tonight?

Yes. With my friends.

He's quiet.

I didn't get him
de Portago's autograph.

It's not about that.

What is it about?

In two weeks,
he'll be confirmed.

As whom?

Piero Lardi
or Piero Ferrari?

We said when he was ten,
we would sort this out.

Then Dino's illness got worse,
and he's still Piero Lardi.

I'm out of excuses.

Postpone the confirmation.

His whole class
is being confirmed.

Say he lost
his faith in God.

Enzo.

Who else knows about him?

Nobody.

Apart from
the chief of police.

The doctor?

Well, yes, the doctor.

And Piero's teachers.

The teachers.

Tavoni, Sergio.

Of course, Tavoni.

And the bank manager?

The bank manager.

Enzo.
Apart from them, no one.

Enzo, this is Italy. Yes?

All of Modena knows!

Except Laura.

And that must stay as it is.

Especially for now.

Oh, you're going to tell me,
"Enzo, don't be so bourgeois,
so Italian."

Don't make me sound
like a beatnik.

You read French books.

What happened between us
in the war happened.

As with many.

And sometimes
I wish it didn't.

How can you say that?

Because if I was a woman
like I am now,

not 12 years ago,

I would not have interfered
in another woman's marriage.

And now she's lost a child.

But the present is
what the present is.

And in our world here,
between me and you and Piero,

what is best for Piero?

Who speaks for him?

You're his father.

How do we reconcile this?

I don't know.

But that makes it no less.

[faint singing in Italian
on television]

Aren't you coming?

No. Make an excuse for me.

The cash for Cecilia?

Brown envelope by the door.

[door closes]

What's this I hear about you
looking for outside investors?

Fangio eating up
all your money?

No. With television,
it's going to become
big business.

To do this,
one has to be capitalized.

The game is changing, Enzo.

And this outside capital
will magically bestow
its favors upon Maserati.

[chuckling] Of course.
After we win the Mille Miglia.

[crowd quiets]

[applause]

[tenor singing "Parigi, o cara"]

[singing "Parigi, o cara"]

[both laughing]

[grunts]
[laughing]

[soprano continues singing]

[Laura clapping]

I'm pregnant.

[commentator]
Hawthorn is third,
Fangio and Collins...

[Ferrari]
Where is everybody?
[cork pops]

[Scaglietti]
I gave them the day off.

[Ferrari] No wonder
you're so late with everything.

Enzo, it's Sunday.

My men work weekends
all through the year for you.

[groans]

Their children haven't seen them
since the day they were born.

That's very sad.
Here's to you and that pack
of color-blind louts you employ.

De Portago is slowing down,
having overshot on the braking.

Mrs. Vanderbilt and Cooper
watch excitedly

as Lewis-Evans goes through
in the straight
followed by Musso's Ferrari.

Vanwall leads the race,
averaging 120 miles per hour.

Musso makes his tires smoke
as he strains all his nerves

to try and close down the gap.

We got word of a collision
between the BRM
and the Cooper-Climax.

Oh! There is a lot of smoke,
making it very--

[tires squeal]

[crowd cheering, whistling]

[mechanic] What is problema?

[speaking Italian]

[straining]

[mechanic]
Oh, no. [grunts]

Is she operable?
Ah, that's bad.

Bad, bad. Very bad.

With three laps to go,
after Fangio, Musso,
it's Behra and de Portago.

He's trying all he knows
to close the gap.

De Portago!
And he brakes first!

Call in de Portago.

Hurry up. Hurry up.

[Tavoni] Fon. Fon.

What?
[Tavoni] Out.

What?
Out! Peter's taking over.

Thank you, old bean.

Go, go, go!

What happened?

I could have taken him.

[Ferrari]
You lack commitment.

Look at the Maserati team.

Fangio.

Behra.

Stirling Moss.

Hard-nosed pros.

Men with a brutal
determination to win.

With a cruel emptiness
in their stomachs.

Detachment.

Loyal to one thing--
not the team.

Loyal to their lust to win.

It rains.

The track is slippery with oil,
an evil-handling car.

Will they falter? No.

My spring team.

Courageous? Skillful? Yes.

Recently in school.

Aristocrats, straight
from Almanach de Gotha.

Gentlemen sportsmen.
Very nice.

On the straight
into the tight corner
at Nouveau Monde,

there's only one line
through it.

Behra pulls up next to you,
challenging.

You're even.

But two objects cannot occupy
the same point in space
at the same moment in time.

Behra doesn't lift.

The corner races at you.

You have perhaps
a crisis of identity:

"Am I a sportsman
or a competitor?"

"How will the French think of me
if I run Behra into a tree?"

You lift, he passes.

He won, you lose!

Because at that same moment
Behra thought,
"Fuck it, we both die."

Make no mistake,
all of us are racers--
or have been.

We all are certain,
"It will never happen to me."

Then my friend is killed.
I give up racing forever
on Monday.

I'm back racing by Sunday.

We all know
it's our deadly passion.

Our terrible joy.

But if you get
into one of my cars--

and no one is forcing you
to take that seat--

you get in to win.

Brake later.

Steal their line.

Make them make the mistake.

I would have taken him.

Behra.

I'm changing the lineup
for the Mille Miglia.

I want you and Olivier
to swap cars.

He'll drive the little coupe
and you'll take one
of the 335's.

You're giving me one
of the most powerful cars
in the race.

Well, put it another way:
I'm giving Olivier
the more agile coupe.

Won't he mind?

Well, of course he will,
but he'll beat you anyway.

This is
the power of attorney

which Signor Ferrari requested
that you put your name on.

And the check

for $500,000.

It has not been signed.

The signing of these affidavits
was conditional on the exchange
of the check.

I'm sure
it was an oversight.

Bullshit, Cosetti.

Go away, please.

Give me a pen.

[sighs]

[sighs]

Excellent.

I'll hold on to these
until I get my check signed.

And...

I want information
about special payments made
by the factory last year.

To whom?

Lina Lardi.

Lina Lardi.

I want to know
how much they are.

I want to know for how long
they've been going on.

Yes.

[Laura] Enzo.

Lina Lardi.

What does that name mean to you?

The boy is yours?

Yes.

I need to think about this.

[slams telephone]

[line buzzing]

She found out.

The boy?
That too.

So what do you think?

The driver in front
will piss his pants

when he sees it
in his mirror.

And when it passes,

it has an ass on it
like a Canova sculpture.

So what do I do?

What do you want to do?

Leave her.

So, do it.

You see that pigeon
up there?

I left its door open,
but it won't come out.

It's forgotten
what freedom is.

Freedom for that pigeon
is pigeon pie.

Tell Laura that you two
should live apart,

you are going
to live with Lina,

and that you are going
to recognize the boy.

Everybody thinks
that you should anyway.

I don't give a damn
what everybody thinks.
What do you think?

There are a lot of people
on your payroll with families.

Ferrari needs continuity
to stay Ferrari.

[sighs]

We have history.

Stay there, pigeon,
or you're dead meat.

The whole of Emilia knows,
but not me?

I thought
it would break your heart.

You broke my heart
years ago, Enzo.

When did it start?

The war.

The factory had
been bombed twice.

Uh, it began during
the worst of it.

She worked
at Carrozzeria Orlandi.

You and Dino were in the hills
that year, and by Christmas
she was pregnant.

So I bought Castelvetro
and she went to live there.

Is she different
from the others?

I was in love with her.

And I still am.

[scoffs]

I find myself
sharing my whole life

with a woman
I have never met.

[chuckles softly]

It makes a mockery of you

in the years
when our son was ill.

When he was dying.

How can you say that?

That boy,

is he going to inherit
our factory, our name?

'Cause I don't want him to.
We have a son.

One son, two sons.

Five sons.

I miss Dino any less?

Every morning I see him
in the cemetery.

The hospital he died in
is funded in his name.

A school was built
in his honor!

Honor? Who gives a shit?

You were supposed to save him!

You blame me for his death?

Yes!

Yes, because you promised me
he wouldn't die!

Everything.

I did everything.

Tables showing
what calories he could eat.

What went in, what came out.

I graphed the degrees
of albuminuria,
the degrees of azotemia!

Diuresis!

I know more about nephritis
and dystrophy than cars!

Yes, I blame you!
I blame you
'cause you let him die.

The father deluded himself!

The great engineer!

"I will restore my son
to health."

Swiss doctors, Italian doctors.
Bullshit. I could not.

I did not!

'Cause you were
so consoled at Castelvetro,
you lost your attention.

You had another boy
growing stronger
while Dino was getting weaker!

What goes on in your mind?
He got sick.

Dystrophy. Kidneys!

It destroyed him!

It destroyed us.

What do you care? Huh?

You have another son!
You have another wife!

She's not my wife.
But he is my son.

Move out.

These are the papers.
They give you power
to negotiate on my behalf.

And there is a problem
with your check.

You forgot to
put your name on it.

We are partners.

This is a gun
pointed at our head.

You cash it
before I conclude the deal,
Ferrari is no more.

That's right.

[door opens]

[door closes]

[door opens]

[door closes]

[Ferrari] It's done.

She knows.

You'll come to Modena.

What?

Why not?

Modena is where I live.

It's not me.
It's about Piero.

Does he sneak around?

As whom?

She knows he is our boy?

She knows he is my son.

But nothing has been resolved.

Yeah.

[Piero] Hey, Papa!

De Portago's autograph.

You go back to sleep.

Papa!

[chanting]
Fer-ra-ri! Fer-ra-ri!

Fer-ra-ri! Fer-ra-ri!

Fer-ra-ri! Fer-ra-ri!
Fer-ra-ri! Fer-ra-ri!

[Piero continues chanting]
Fer-ra-ri! Fer-ra-ri!
[engine fades]

[sighs]

[crowd chattering in Italian]

[engines revving, roaring
in distance]

[photographer shouts
in Italian]

[engines revving]

[person] Signor Ferrari.
[photographer]
Commendatore Ferrari!

[journalist] Mr. Ferrari!

[crowd clamoring]

-[person shouting] Ferrari!
-He's here.

Peter.
How are you doing?

Okay, here we go.
Come here. Come this way.

This is Peter Collins.

[applause]

All right.

Let's go.

This is my new friend,
de Portago,
our newest driver.

Okay.

Good luck, gentlemen.

Good afternoon,
Commendatore.

Registration forms,
licenses.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

Good afternoon, Orsi.

Good afternoon, Ferrari.

I'm entering five cars.

Collins, Taruffi,
de Portago, von Trips,
Gendebien.

[Ferrari]
Are you making them richer?

[mechanic 1]
Yes, for the humidity.

[Ferrari]
No sleeping. Especially you.

[mechanic 2 responds
in Italian]

[huffed sighs]

Good evening, Commendatore.
And to you, my friend.

[commentator on television]
...of the smallest
of the racing cars.

Painted on each of the cars
is the time of its departure.

[Tavoni] No,
judges should be at Ravenna.

[Ferrari] Okay.

Make sure they show these
at every control.
Otherwise they're disqualified.

[commentator] I'm honored
to have at my side
the owner of Maserati,

Cavaliere Adolfo Orsi.

All right, I have a few
last-minute instructions.

Refueling.

Remind the mechanics
the gas is to go into the tanks,

not on the drivers.

Especially Taruffi.
I prefer he not go up in flames.

I'm writing to Linda.
What do I say?

[navigator]
I don't know. Um...

[Collins]
My darling Louise.

The same letter
I write before every race.

I have no worry for myself
in this race, as ever.

My only fear
is that you will need me
and I won't be here.

In that unlikely eventuality,
know you have
all my love always.

[crowd applauding, cheering]

[engine revving]

Remember what I told you.

Get behind Taruffi and Collins.

Okay? They know the way.

If you can hang on to them
till you reach Bologna,
you're in with a chance.

One last thing.

Can you autograph this?

It's for a very,
very special young man.

What's his name?

Piero.

Piero!

P-I-E-R-O.

If Moss and Behra
attempt to pass,

wave them through.

Your job is to get round
in one piece.

See you in Bologna!

Good luck.

[engine revving]

[race official] Ready? Go.

[tires squeal]

-[Ferrari] Good morning, Peter.
-And it's going
to be a good one.

This car can win.

Once you're over the mountains,
you've got the legs
on the others.

Then it's either you
or de Portago, understand?

Are you forgetting
about Moss and Behra?

Watch out for stray dogs
and children.
They're the real danger.

All right.

[Tavoni] Here you are.
Ah, si.

You can win this one, Taruffi,
if you don't smoke yourself
to death before it's over.

What's the weather like
on the Futa Pass?

Good. Maybe rain.

Listen to me.
You need this race.

How can you tell
your grandchildren

that you picked up
every trophy in Europe
but you've never won at Brescia?

Make sure I get the backup.

No foul-ups.
Especially at the fuel stops.

[Ferrari]
All right, that's the spirit.

[engine revving]

[tires squeal]

Stirling, are we all set?
Yes.

Take the lead right away
and stay in front.
Sure.

Great.

[engine revving]

Jean,

you stay back
behind the Ferraris.

Wait.

Some will break,
eliminate themselves.

Then attack before Bologna.

Okay?
Okay.

[cheering, applause muffles]

[cheering, applause
fade back in]

Good to see you.

For once
he did not complain.

[engine revving]

Do you know the way ahead?

I'm not sure.

[Moss] Okay,
let's see what she can do.

Let him go, Fon.

[tires squeal]

No brakes.
Bloody pedal snapped off!

[engine starts]

[Moss]
Let's get this bugger home.

[commentator]
The first car into Ravenna
this morning

was Peter Collins's Ferrari

and a Fiat 500 timed
at 140 on the final section.

Magi, it's Ferrari.

[bartender speaking Italian]

[commentator continues
in Italian]

Moss is out.

On this, straight.

[crowd cheering]

What's next?

Commendatore?

Avvocato Agnelli's
on the phone.
All right.

Uh, sit down, gentlemen.
Excuse me for one moment.

Avvocato.

I apologize for calling
in the middle
of the race, Ferrari.

But I have this article
by Rancati in front of me
that is, uh, so disturbing.

Avvocato, it's fiction.

I have absolutely no idea
where they get their stories.

This is important.

Ferrari cannot go
to foreigners.

You are a national treasure.

A "jewel in the crown of Italy."
[scoffs]

Exactly.

Then why does the jewel
have to scrimp

to put its cars
into every race?

If it's that bad,
why didn't you call me?

I did. You said no.

Impossible. When was this?

1917.
Stop it.

You were a child.

I was 19. I needed a job.

A secretary came back
with a card.

One word written on it:
"No."

That was a long time ago.

In business,
each day is a new day.

Well, the personality
of Fiat is timeless.

The offer you would make me
will be full of conditions.

That is not so.
My bosses will be
bookkeepers in Turin.

We should talk this over.

If you're looking
for financial assistance,

talk to me, please.

Not Ford.

You're busy now.

Call me after the Mille Miglia.

I'll call you
first thing tomorrow.

Okay.

[crowd cheering, whistling]

[official speaking Italian]
Yup?

[shouts in Italian]

[grunts]

When you get to Bologna,
change the rubber.

I will call ahead.
Hi.

Hey.

Meet me in Brescia.
I can't.
I have a camera test.

I am going to win.

I want you to be there.

[tires squealing]

-[thuds]
-[tires squealing]

[Taruffi] Took a shortcut?

[chuckling] Yeah.
Come on.

[engine revs]

[paparazzo speaking Italian]

[chattering]
[shutters clicking]

Hey.

[crowd clamoring]

[clerk in Italian] Your keys?

Oh, grazie. Grazie.

Buongiorno.

[footsteps approaching]

[chuckles]

How much time do you have?

First cars arrive
in about an hour.

About half past 2:00.

Mmm.

[sighs]

[chuckles]

[sighs]

[crowd cheering]

Everything okay?
No, the transmission
is gone.

I don't know
if it's the gears
or the rear axle,

but the bloody thing's
buggered either way.

Who's behind me?

Everyone.
You're in the lead.

What about Moss?
Out.

When?
Before Padua.

[chuckling]
Why didn't you tell me?

It was Moss
I was worried about.

Well,

I've fucked
the bloody transmission up
now, haven't I?

Kid, you want Collins's banana?

Peter, you can do it.
Take it easy.

[engine starts]

Thank you very much.
Best of luck.

[Taruffi] Thank you.

Taruffi, I gave you
a brand-new car.

Look at it!

The rear axle is bent.

I only have the first,
third and the fourth gear.

What happened?
I went off. Futa Pass.

You're a passenger
in a Ferrari.

You should have walked!

All right.
Any more damage--
I don't think it can make it.

Any more damage, Taruffi,
and you pay for it.

Commendatore,
now that Maserati's out,

we are in danger of running
the cars into the ground.

Order the drivers
to hold their positions.

Yeah, why bother? They won't.

Any problems, Olivier?
You're the head of your class.

-I'm going to win this outright.
-All right, and you can.

Collins's back axle is gone.
There's a problem
with Taffy's transmission.

That leaves Taruffi,
and he's lost a gear.

So it's me and de Portago.
You and de Portago.

Okay, let's go. Go.

[Chiti] But if we continue
at this pace--

[Tavoni]
For the future of the factory--
My factory is built on racing.

They are racers.

I think I can make it.

[Ferrari]
You better, you geriatric.

If you don't finish
in the first three, your wife
will never speak to you again.

Nor your children.
Okay, go for it!

How is Behra?

He's okay.

He kept coming.

He brakes, you pass.
You brake, he passes.

Or no one brakes.

-[De Portago]
What's going on here?
-You need new rubber.

I don't have time.
Check the pressures.

Chiti, check the tires.
Nelson, did you check
the front offside?

Yes. It's okay.

We're wasting time, Ferrari.
Come on!

[Ferrari] Chiti,
check the front offside.

-Come on, they're good.
-[Ferrari] Chiti!

[Chiti] They're worn.
Will it get us to Brescia?

Will it get us to Brescia?

Go, go! Hurry up!

[photographer 1]
Eh, eh, Laura!
Signora! Laura, please?

Laura, please. Please.

Laura, please?

Please, Laura.
Another one, please.
Laura!

[commentator]
To bring you the latest...
[door closes]

...from the Mille Miglia,
I'm sure you are
as curious as I am

to see who finished
in glory today.

Let's hear from Signor Ferra--

Signor Ferrari,
who's gonna win?

It could be any
of the first five.

[commentator]
And what about
Gendebien's 250?

He demonstrates that even
the smallest Ferrari can compete
at the highest level.

[commentator]
May he win?
Of course he may win!

Who wants
to come in second?
[crowd laughs]

You knew about her
and you never told me?

He is entitled to an heir.

I gave him one.

As it turns out,
one was not enough.

I gave him one!
I gave him one!

Edoardo!

[child] Edoardo!

Edoardo, go back,
wash your hands.

[Edoardo] They're coming!

I think this guy is crazy
about these cars. [laughs]

He's only ever thinking
about cars.

[crowd chattering, cheering]

[applause]

[tires screeching]

[no audible dialogue]

[no audible dialogue]

[cheering fades in]

[Linda] Peter, hi!

Where is Fon?

I don't know.

He was behind me
until my car broke down.

He'll be here somewhere.

[crowd chattering]

[sirens wailing]

[person sobbing]

[police officer] Commendatore?

[baby crying]

[Chiti] Maresciallo,
we are here to collect the car.

De Portago?

They took him away.

[door opens]

[door closes]

[crowd chattering, laughing]

Hello?
[Ferrari] Piero.

Yes.
It's Enzo.

I wanted to congratulate you.

Mmm.

Well, what happened is separate
from your victory today.

It will go
into the history books.

-Commendatore--
-Good night, Piero.

And again, I salute you.

The police are on their way
from Rome.

They want the car.

[telephone ringing]

I don't know.
No, I don't know when.
I'm sorry.

[telephone ringing]
I will tell him you called.

[secretary]
The Commendatore
is not available.

I'm sorry, he is really tied up.

[telephone ringing]

[secretary]
Signor Ferrari is not available
to answer your questions.

Commendatore.

This wheel hit a curb stone,
a brick.

Something solid to cut it.

It wasn't the tire.

Lina called me.

She wants me
to bring you there.

What happened?

We all know death
is nearby.

No, no, no, no.

No, children don't know.

Families don't know.

[telephone ringing]

I have to talk
to those vultures.
Then drive me home?

Tavoni! Tommaso!

[Cuoghi] Enzo!

She cashed the check.

[journalists clamoring]

Why did you keep running drivers
on poor quality tires?

[journalist] Did you realize
that your negligence
cost the lives

of nine people,
including five children?

How do you plan to respond
to all the accusations?

And how do you plan to justify
the number of casualties?

Castelvetro?
No.

Largo Garibaldi.

Phone Lina for me.

Tell her I'll call
maybe tomorrow.

I have business.

[lock clicking]

[journalist]
Do you realize that your
negligence has cost the lives--

Look, if Italy
is looking for a scapegoat,

then here I am!

[journalists clamoring]

No lights?

[sighs]
I have a headache.

The phone's been ringing
all night.

I took it off the hook.

[sighs]

You're in real trouble,
you know.

To do with the tires.

The press is competing
for who can vilify you the most.

Nothing wrong with the tires.

He hit something.
Did you take any calls?

[scoffs]

Ugolini from The Gazette.

What did you tell him?
I told him to fuck himself.

Then that man from Autosport.
I told him to fuck himself.

Then Agnelli.

Agnelli?
I told him...

to call back.

Anyone else?

Cuoghi.

I told him
to fuck himself,

then I took the phone
off the hook.
Great.

Mama, what are you doing?

I'm all packed.
When do we leave?

We're not going anywhere.
Go back to sleep.

[sighs]

This is God's way
of punishing us.

Us?

You think
he slaughtered nine people
at Guidizzolo

to get even
with you and me?

I got a message
from the bank.

You cashed the check.
Mm.

They're calling
insolvency experts.

We're done.

The bank
is getting hysterical
over nothing.

Nothing?
You bankrupted us.

Enzo, stop it.

What good
are you doing yourself?

Mm, "I'm a scapegoat,
I'm a martyr."

Who are you?
Who have you become?
St. Sebastian?

You stand there
and let them shoot arrows
in your ass?

Go beat the hell
out of them.

The writers.
Those cheap hacks.

Threaten them.
Extort them.

And those
still on their feet,

the most sanctimonious
and hypocritical,

those, you give them
brown envelopes.

And then they also
will discover

that, "Perhaps
the Sage of Maranello
has been maligned unfairly.

Perhaps moderation
should reassert itself

in the distinguished
Italian press."

And for that,
you need the cash.

[sighs]

You thought I'd pack
a suitcase and go, right?

It crossed my mind.

It crossed my mind too.

You're financing this?

No, lending it.

And the conditions are?

No conditions.

Oh.

No conditions.

There was a part of you
in Dino.

Your warmth. Your wit.

Your joy.

He had that.

I had that from you
in our early years.

But after a time,

I only got what was left
when you came home from
the fights in the factory.

The ambition,
the drive, the plots.

The paranoia.

Even our fucking.

As if that could save Dino.

What I loved in you
I also found in him.

All that's gone.

There is no condition.
You have the money.

[sniffs]

But it is my wish...

for my grief for our son,

for the years
building this...

you do not acknowledge
the boy with the name Ferrari
while I am alive.

How'd you get here?

[Piero]
I came with Giuseppe.

Giuseppe?

Your mother sent him
because she wants me
to come home.

You haven't been here
before, have you?

No.

Do you know something?

Hmm?

Your mother and you

are going to come
live with me in Modena.

Papa.

Is the TV reception better?

[laughs]

Much better.
[exhales]

You can see the tower
from my window.

Did you get
de Portago's autograph?

I did.
[gasps]

Come.

I'll introduce you
to your brother Dino.

I wish you could
have known him.

He would have taken you
with him everywhere.

[singing ballad in Italian]

[song ends]