All language subtitles for The Music Of Silence

[male narrator] Dear Veronica,
this is the story of a boy
called Amos,

whom I've known intimately
all my life.

Amos Bardi.

Why Amos?
Because I like the name.

[someone knocking on the door]

[woman]
Five minutes, Mr. Bocelli.

[Bocelli narrating]
If at my birth they'd have
let me choose for myself,

I'd have chosen that one.

Why Bardi?

Because it's a
good Tuscan name.

[applause]

[engine chugging]

You see! Runs like a Ferrari,
and with the new diesel engine,

it will cost
half the price in fuel.

You will be begging me for one!

[farmer] Half the price to run
and it costs double to buy?

So?

Sandro,
I can't afford this price.

[scoffs]

Signor Sandro!

They called!
It's a boy! It's a boy!

A boy? A boy?
[laughs]

-I've got to go, I got a son!
-Sandro!
What about the tractor?

It's yours!

A boy!

-Thank you, God!
-A boy!

[sobbing]
It's a boy.

[baby crying]

[woman] He's beautiful.

[man making baby noises]

Careful,
with those big hands of yours.

[woman] Sandro...

-[chuckling]
-Shh!

What are you going to call him?

-[baby crying]
-[woman] Amos, please don't cry.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

[crying continues]

This crying is not normal.
I want him to see a doctor.

Edi, babies cry,
it's their way of talking.

It's five months now.

Fine, if it's their
way of talking,
he's telling us he's ill.

A mother knows these things.

I can't bear to hear him
crying like this.

Congenital, bilateral glaucoma.

There is a strong likelihood
that they have been damaged.

I fear it will need surgery.

-He'll need an eye operation?
-Yes.

But doctor, can he sees us?
He seems to see me.

Mrs. Bardi,
a baby sees father even
with its eyes closed.

We don't know how
much he can see.

There is a department
at the main hospital in Turin

where apparently
they perform miracles.

You're saying my son
needs a miracle?

Nurse, please, how much longer?

It's three hours
he's been in there now.

I'm sorry, we can't say.

[boy whining]

Stop it.

Stop it!
You mustn't take it off.

Touch it. Teddy likes his.

[grunts]

My love, I know. It annoys you.
You must be patient.

What are you doing?

[opera music]

[knock on door]

[man] Come, come.

Thank you.

My son,
when he heard the music,

suddenly was calm
for the first time.

He had an operation.

Ah, music, beautiful.

Make happy life.

Here.

Go.

Acid in eyes. Work factory.

Many operations.

Without music, I'm mad.

You, how long stay?

I hope not long.

Amos!

Thank you.

[Bocelli] The old barn was
a land of wonder for me.

Everything in it fascinated me.

I touched everything,
played with everything.

I was happy in there.

[Edi] Amos!

[makes engine noises]

[Edi] Amos, lunch is ready!

Why don't you answer
when I call you? Where were you?

In my room.

Look me in the face
when you talk to me.

Liar!

I told you a thousand
times not to go into the barn.

It's dangerous!

Your son has been
in the barn again.

Say something to him, Sandro!

Amos, don't go in the barn.

And if you're good I'll take
you out on the tractor, OK?

He's also been telling fibs.

Oh, that's serious.

You must always
tell the truth, hmm?

Even when it's hard.

Alright, I'll tell the truth.

I don't want to eat this soup.
I don't like it.

Amos!

[man] Signor Bardi!

[sighs]
I have to go. Work.

I've been cooking
this specialty all morning
and you've eaten two spoonfuls.

Three. And it was delicious.

But unfortunately there are no
fixed hours in my line of work.

You eat.

My line of work
has no fixed hours either.

Amos! Amos! Oriana...

[Oriana] Amos! Amos!

You are the only one
who likes my food?

Good, good. Bravo.

Babbo, when will you let me
ride on the tractor?

Babbo!

Amos? Amos?

Babbo!

[screams]

[Edi] Oriana, what happened?

Nothing, nothing.
He spilt some soup!

Amos, are you crazy?

Never ever go out
on the window ledge.
It's dangerous!

But I was being careful.

Promise me
you'll never do it again.

If you promise me,
we'll go and see Uncle Giovanni.

And eat the soup there
and I'll make it alright
with mama. OK?

[knocking on the door]

Come in.

Well, here you are again.

Excuse me, Signor Giovanni,
it's only that...

...when he's here,
he's so calm and eats properly.

Of course, because he knows
if he doesn't behave himself,

he will never be
promoted to sergeant.

Corporal, eat your soup!
That's an order!

[chuckles]

I want to show you something.

[opera music]

Know what this is?

Beniamino Gigli.

A genius!
He sung all around the world.

Songs, romances, operas...

Operas? Like operations?
I don't like them.

Lyric opera, they're stories,
which are sung.

For example, this is a story
of one girl called Manon,

who is not, let's say,
a good girl.

Is she bad?

No, no, no.
She's not bad, she's a prosti...

Well, I mean, a girl who
does those kinds of...

OK, anyway,
Beniamino Gigli was a genius.

Listen.

[opera music]

Real men don't need hats!

[door opens]

Good morning.

Forgive me, doctor.

Be frank with us, what are
the prospects for my son?

We have saved what we can.

Although one eye is lost,

the other has at least
some limited function.

But I would suggest
it would be useful for him
to begin to learn Braille.

You mean reading for the blind?

["O giovinetta bella" plays]

-Good morning.
-Morning.

This is Amos Bardi.

Welcome, Amos!

Children, say hello.

[all] Hello, Amos!

Thank them and say hello.

I'm not saying hello
because I'm not staying.

Boys, it's time for your break.

Nice to meet you, Amos.

Come here.

Amos is not like them.
He can see.

Amos.

Please, Mommy,
don't leave me here alone!

-You have to go. You have to go.
-Please.

Please, please. You have to go.

Mama! Mama!

Sandro.

Delicious soup! Yummy!

It's the most disgusting thing
I have ever seen.

Signora Etmea,
I don't want this soup.

I think you will eat it,
and I know you will like it.

It's a very good soup, Amos.

Amos...

Don't worry, I'll eat it.
Can you see a bit?

-Yes.
-Is she looking?

-No.
-Give me your soup.

[boy coughing]

[boy] Amos? You awake?

Yes.

Don't worry.
Only another three years to go.

What do you want to be
when you grow up?

Me? A singer, an opera singer,
like Franco Corelli.

-Can you sing?
-I don't know. What about you?

I'd like to be a lawyer,
putting the bad guys in prison.

Wow!

[bicycle bell]

[Giovanni]
It's a letter from Amos.

How are you going to read it?

It's not written in Braille.

How is it that he goes to a
special school to learn Braille

and he doesn't know any?

It's difficult, you can't
learn it in four months.

-Somebody must have
written it down for him.
-Come on, what does it say?

"Dear all, I am well
and I hope you are too.

It's really cold and I miss you.

The food is rotten here
and the beds are really hard."

-Oh, poor thing.
-Just as well,
he says he's well.

Imagine if he had written,
"I'm not well,"
what he'd have written!

He's strong,
he'll get through it.

"But sometimes we have fun."

You see? My son doesn't let
a little discomfort get to him.

There is something
at the bottom here, in Braille.

It's his name.

Let me feel it.

Strange. I feel him so close.

[children singing "Va Pensiero"]

[signora]
Amos, come here a moment.

Did I do something wrong,
signora?

No. No, no.
You did nothing wrong.

Let me listen to
your voice a moment.

Sing me the next verse
by yourself.

[Amos sings "Va Pensiero"]

I don't think in my life
I've heard anything like that.

Ladies and gentlemen:
Amos Bardi.

[boys yelling]

That's it.
All the way across the pitch.

Shoot!

-Yeah!
-[coach] Bravissimo!

The score is still one all.

Amos Bardi stands.

Now he leaves the penalty area,
and rushes to intercept Pardini

who now heads straight
for the goal and shoots!

Oh, my God.

[indistinct chatter]

Amos?

Amos!

It's dark in here.

[boy]
It's your dark glasses.

-Babbo, can I go out
on Amos' horse?
-No, Babbo gave it to me.

But I would be happy if you let
your brother have a go.

-Only when I say so.
-[sighs]

Amos, the milk.

Is something wrong?

No, stop worrying, Mama.
It's OK.

Is the sun not up yet?

Amos, are you stupid or what?

Can't you see the sun?

-Yes, I see it.
-Let's go.

Wait a minute.

Help me, Mommy! Please, help me!

The sun has gone!
Where has it gone?

["O giovinetta bella" plays]

[Bocelli narrating]
I had never seen my mother cry.

She was so lost she didn't
seem herself any more.

Amos, tell me, what do you see?
Is it all dark?

No, it's not all dark, Mama.

What I see isn't darkness,
I can't really explain.

What I see is
everything and nothing.

I don't understand.

I see what I want to see:

I see the room,
the cupboards, the beds.

I see you as well, Mama.

I see you because
I know you are here.

[Bocelli narrating]
Over and over I repeated
silently to myself

that nothing had changed,

that I would do
exactly as before

and that I needed
no one else's help.

Now, all together,
let's sing a song.

Amos, you lead.

-I'm not in the mood.
-Come on!

-That Neapolitan one,
"O Sole Mio".
-No!

Amos, start singing,
or I'll swear to God...

Is there a God, uncle?

-What do you mean, Amos?
-Nothing, just a question.

Amos, no one in our family
has ever those kind of doubts.

Well, someone's got to start!

You shouldn't even
think those things!

Too late,
I've already thought them.

Who's coming in?

-Don't be crazy, Amos!
-[Amos] Let's do it.

Amos! Daddy said no!

-Amos!
-Amos!

Amos!

Amos!

-Are you sure they went in?
-Yes.

Amos!

Look!

Don't you realize
what could have happened?

It could have
happened to anyone.

Yes, to anyone stupid enough to
go swimming is such a rough sea.

But apparently
the only idiot here is you.

And what about the others?
I didn't force them to go in.

I don't care about the others,
you are my son.

And you should be
smarter than the others.

Dad, you don't understand.

If the others
jump over an obstacle,
I have to jump over a mountain.

If they ride a horse,
I have to ride a tiger.

Amos...

If I want to be
like other people,

I have to do better than them.

And you know who taught me that?

You!

Mind if I take
the young buck with me?

Sure.

Can't you tell me
where we're going?

I don't want to see anyone
or do anything.

[girl singing "Amazing Grace"]

-Want an ice cream?
-No, I want to go home.

OK.

Maestro?

-Anyone else?
-Amos Bardi.

-What?
-Just shut your mouth

and open it only when
you start singing, OK?

-Let me go, uncle!
-Please, Amos.

So, Amos,
what are you going to give us?

-Amos, let him hear "Reginella".
-But uncle!

-Do you know "Reginella"?
-Yes, yes, of course.

Amos, go on. Go for it.

Ready?

[piano plays]

[Amos sings "Reginella"]

Maestro?

Amos...

What just happened?

You got into the finals
of the Coppa Margherita.

The biggest prize in Tuscany.
Feel better?

[boy singing "Anema e Core"]

You stand no chance.

[cheering]

[presenter]
Thank you, thank you.

A lot of support
for our young friend.

Take care, Gabriello
Congratulations, thank you.

He's good.

Not as good as you.

And now, please,
for the bold young man

who'll sing a Neapolitan song:
Amos Bardi.

[applause]

You'll be fine, don't worry.

"O Sole Mio." I dedicate
this song to my Uncle Giovanni.

[Amos sings "O Sole Mio"]

-[applause]
-Bravo! Bravo!

-Bravo!
-Bravo!

[presenter]
Thank you. Thank you so much.

And now, Maestro Meraviglia,

president of the jury,
will give us his choice.

Maestro.

And the winner is...

Amos Bardi.

[cheering]

Bravo!

Next stop: Sanremo!

Sanremo! Sanremo! Sanremo!

He's right,
I saw it in my crystal ball,
one day you'll win Sanremo!

I am so proud.

[Bocelli]
I couldn't work out whether
the woman's face was covered

with tears or with sweat.

But I remembered Oriana

and the moment
I decided to become a singer.

Amos! Fantastic Amos!
This is my friend Adriano.

I'm from Lajatico.
I'm a musician, too.

-It would be great
to get to know each other.
-Great!

My boy,
I'm promoting you to corporal.

Uncle, I was already a sergeant
two years ago.

Well, you can't expect me
to remember everything.

Uh... alright, I'm making you
field marshal right away

so that we're up to date, OK?

But in return, you have to
do something for me.

In a few weeks
an old friend of mine,

a military colonel,
is getting married.

[priest]
I pronounce you man and wife.

You may kiss the bride.

[singing "Ave Maria"]

Didn't I tell you?

You couldn't have given them
a better gift.

[out of tune]

[panting]

Go, Giovanni. Go!

[crowd murmuring]

[sobbing]

Amos, what's wrong?

Come on.

I let everyone down.

Is Uncle Giovanni still going
to make you field marshal

now that you're tone deaf?

I'm not tone deaf, you idiot!

Hey, stop it you two.
Amos, sit up.

I told you,
it's normal at your age.

Boys' voices change.

Will I still be able to sing?

Nobody knows, but you
have learn to be patient.

How can I? It was the most
important thing in my life.

In your life. You don't
even know what life is yet.

In the meantime maybe
you can study an instrument.

-The piano, for example?
-No, not an instrument.

Every blind person plays
an instrument or gives massages.

Where did you get
that nonsense from?

Antonio.
He wants to be a lawyer.

Great! A lawyer!

[Bocelli narrating] My father
wouldn't hear of anything else.

In order not to disappoint him,
I enrolled
in the Liceo Classico,

convincing myself
that eventually my destiny
was to study law.

Boys and girls,
I want you to be aware

that you are the future elite
of our country.

We do not tolerate hotheads,
nor revolutionary ideas.

No strikes, no demonstrations.

Here, in the Liceo Classico,
we study, and that's it.

You may sit down.

We shall begin immediately.

Page ten, first exercise.

Let's see... Bardi. Bardi?

I don't have a book, ma'am.

Alright...

No, actually,
it's not alright at all.

This time, and only this time,

you can borrow one
from someone else.

I'll read it for you.

You! Keep quiet.

Bardi, start reading.

Bardi...

Right,

now I would like you
or your parents to explain to me

how on earth you have been
registered for this school?

Please tell me how am I
supposed, in your condition,

to expect you
to undertake a translation

as I would a normal child?

If someone could read to me,
I could translate it.

No, Bardi,
it doesn't work that way.

No one may read it to you.

The future elite do not
rely on the help of others.

[bell]

We will discuss this
next time again.

The next lesson
is physical education
so please go to the gym.

You too, Bardi.

I'll take you.

-Thank you.
-Let me take your stuff.

I'm Adriano, by the way.

You don't know me,
but I was at
the Caffè Margherita

-when you won the prize.
-Oh, yes.

You're a great singer.

-I used to be.
-I play some guitar,
too, you know?

[Bocelli] I have never forgotten
that generous strong hand,

it was the beginning
of a deep friendship.

A study all of your own?
Lucky you.

It's a gift from my father.

It was the old tractor shed

where they kept
all the farm implements.

It was my favorite place
when I was little.

On the other hand, the piano
was a gift from my uncle.

Why don't you sing something?

One of those
beautiful things you sing?

I don't sing anymore.
I fiddle around
on the piano a bit,

I listen to a lot of music,
but when I hear myself
I want to vomit.

[soft chuckle]

Well, sing without listening.
Like I do, at least I have fun.

Not for me.
Singing was my dream.

There are other ways
of having fun, you know?

[Adriano sings "Il Gabbiano"]

Watch on the left.
A big curve,
it's a big curve on the left.

On the left!
Right here.

Yeah, that's it!
That's it! Go for it!

Woo-hoo!

Slow down, slow down a bit.

[people chattering]

What's your name?

Amos.

Come with me.

Do you know the story
of André Chenier?

-No.
-Ah, so, André Chenier

is a revolutionary poet,
in love with Maddalena...

Sit.

I love it when you talk,
but I love it more
when you don't.

[door opens]

That's him.

Sorry... sorry.

Thank God.

It's five in the morning.

I've had enough of this.
Every night.

He does nothing but waste time
with his layabout.

Now his schoolwork
is a complete disaster!

I think I found
the right person.

Your mother is convinced
that I am a genius,

but I'm going to tell you
right away, I'm not.

I am a retired bank manager

and my hobby
is collecting mushrooms.

Where is the study book
for tomorrow's lesson?

And, by the way, I have an
elementary school diploma,

my parents didn't have
the money

to send me to middle
and upper school like you.

I see you like music.

Have you ever applied yourself
seriously to it?

I'm not interested
in jobs blind people do.

Masseurs,
telephone operators, musicians.

Amos, it's not important
what you do,

it's important how you do it.

Sit at the table.

Ah! Ah!

"After the Second World War,
Italy underwent
a grave economic crisis,

but at the same time,
the Marshall Plan was feeding
an industrial revolution."

"Petrarca, like Dante,
was obliged to flee
from his native city

along with the other followers
of the white party.

He was unjustly
accused of having
officially used a false deed

and was condemned..."

[continues indistinct]

"...and these,
although they fail
to satisfy the requirements

of a modern thinker,
may therefore be regarded..."

[Bocelli] Ettore successfully
got me through
my high school graduation.

Even Adriano graduated.

Thanks to Ettore I could have
had a place at university
studying jurisprudence,

that was what was
expected of me,

but, somehow,
it turned out differently.

[music playing]

Yeah!

-What's the name of the group?
-Adriamos.

Adriamos?

[playing "Il Gabbiano"]

[Bocelli narrating] I abandoned
my dream to be an opera singer

and took Adriano's advice
to sing without
listening to myself.

At least I could play music,
and maybe even earn a living.

["Il Gabbiano" continues]

Yes... not bad.

Problem is, it's neither
one thing nor another.

The voice is pleasant, though.

The question is: is it original?

And what in your
opinion is original?

Something new,
something different.

Different from what?
What is your criterion apart
from your own personal taste?

Listen here, young man.

Let me tell you,
give up your music,
go and find another job.

Out there,
there are plenty of jobs

that will satisfy
your undeniable talent.

You mean like masseur,
telephone operator, piano tuner?

Or a Mister-know-it-all,
like you?

Asshole, just get out!

And let me put
your mind at ease:

you will never,
ever be a singer. Ever!

Umberto, your heart.

[piano playing]

Thanks for bringing him along.

Yes, and good-looking, too.

Which doesn't hurt.

Gives him personality,
and he's so good-looking.

Yes, you just said that already.

What about your voice,
do you sing?

-A little.
-Show me.

Sing "Il Diavolo e l'Angelo",
it's a song we wrote ourselves.

[sings "Il Diavolo e l'Angelo"]

If only I were
20 years younger.

[laughing]
Rosa, take away twenty years
and you're still ugly.

He may think me beautiful,
because I'm beautiful inside.

[laughing]

[singing continues]

Do you like it? What?

Hey!

Can you play something
that doesn't sound like
we're at a funeral, please?

-Like?
-Rock and Roll, asshole.

-What's wrong?
-Anything that doesn't
put me to sleep.

Can't, I'm afraid, house rules.

[chuckles]

-What's up?
-The usual loser-musician.

Up his own ass!

[laughter]

[laughter continues]

[keys play loudly]

[plays "Libiamo"]

[sings "Libiamo"]

I'm so sorry,
I'll take care
of this right away.

-Wait. He's fantastic!
-He's right.

Alice! Alice, you have to go.

Please, sing for me,
it's my birthday.

-Come on! Alice!
-[all chanting] Alice!

Yes. Yes, let's do it.

[playing "Libiamo"]

[both singing "Libiamo"]

[applause]

Bravi!

[woman]
Please, come, join us, please.

Giorgia, would you let them sit?

-[woman] Auguri!
-[man] Auguri!

[woman] Auguri!

Hi, my name is Elena.

Thank you for your present,
it was wonderful.

I didn't give you a present.

Yes, you did. You sang for me.

-You made me cry.
-I made you cry
on your birthday?

Yes... [mumbles]
Don't worry. I... I loved it.

What do you do when
you're not at the Boccaccio?

Oh, well, I'm still at school.

It's like being in prison,
you know?

I can't wait to be free.

Yes, freedom is...

...beautiful.

I mean, it is much better
than being in prison.

-[giggles] Yeah.
-Sorry, I'm...

...talking nonsense.

No, you're funny.

-Really?
-Yes.

Listen, if you want,
we could meet again

and maybe you could
hear more nonsense.

Give me your hand.

Here's my present.

[playing slow tempo song]

[misses notes]

-What's with you today?
-I need a break.

A break? Another break?
It's like our third break today.

Listen, just call her, will you?
And stop messing about.

And give me your hand.

Don't smudge it, I haven't
washed my hand in days.

I know.

-What do you think
I should say to her?
-I don't know.

Didn't you tell her
you'd call her
to talk some more nonsense?

Just say the first thing
that comes into your head.

It's bound to be nonsense.
Here you go.

-Do you want me
to leave you alone?
-No.

[line ringing]

-[woman on phone] Workshop!
-Workshop?

[woman on phone]
Yes, may I help you?

She gave me the wrong number.

Yeah, girls do that,
usually when they don't
want to see you again.

I'm giving up on women.

[sings piano bar song]

Amos?

Elena.

-I'm so happy to see you again.
-Me too.

-Can I ask you something?
-Of course.

Why did you give me the
wrong number when we met?

I gave the right number,
but you never called!

I did call you, but it turned
out to be some kind of shop.

Well, I'm not going to give you
my home number, am I?

I gave you the number
of my sister's workplace.

-They didn't tell me
you'd called.
-I didn't leave a message.

Why your sister?

She makes jewelry,

and when I leave school
I'm going to work with her.

I'll probably never get
to university,

so meanwhile,
I'm going to learn a trade.

When someone says "meanwhile"
it usually means they do a thing

while waiting for
something else to come along.

Goodness, you're so precise!

You give such meaning
to every word you hear.

OK, perhaps you're right.

I am waiting for something,

even if I don't know yet
what it is.

I thought you'd never looked
for me, but you did call me.

Of course,
but then I thought,

"What a fool I am, I thought she
liked me, and instead..."

Instead... I liked you a lot.

And I liked you more than a lot.

[singing "E lucevan le stelle"]

Bravo!

Bravo!

Amos... this is Signor Vanini,

a famous opera critic,
who writes on music for the
most prestigious magazines.

Huh?
I told him how popular you were

and I asked him if he would
come here and listen to you

to give us his opinion.

I am honored, Signor Vanini.

What can I say Mister Bardi?
Congratulations.

I beg you to tell me the truth.

I must tell you what I think?

I'm not sure if I can.

Please.

Well... [clears throat]

I do not believe

that you have even
the smallest amount of talent

for singing opera,
even in the lowest category
of the repertoire.

Your voice lacks
extension, power, color

and just about everything else.

Thank you for your frankness.

Sadly, you are telling me
what I already know.

Excuse me,
but I have to go back to work.

Well, if we are being frank
with one another,

let me ask you a question:

how can this young man
with his problem

expect to appear on stage?

He cannot see the orchestra,

the scenery, or the conductor.

-Do you know
what I think, Signor Vanini?
-What?

You don't know
anything about singing.

-[chuckles]
-You're envious and ignorant.

My nephew has a great voice.

[horse whinnies]

[Elena] You seem sad today.

[Amos] No.

You're not really happy.

I can feel it,
you're pretending.

-Sometimes I think I bore you.
-You never bore me.

In fact, what I like about you
is you never say useless things.

I like that
you've never asked me

how I know if you're beautiful
or how I imagine you.

I like being
a little mysterious.

You don't really know
how I look like

and that makes me feel
more sure of myself.

-I know exactly
what you look like.
-No, no, you don't!

How can you?

I feel the air rushing into
your lungs when you are excited,

the flutter of your eyelids
when you are amazed.

And when you bite your lip...

Just here...

...on one side only.

Nobody has ever seen
these things in me.

These are not things
you see with your eyes.

You realized I was sad.

What were you thinking about?

I want to change my life

to become a serious person,
to graduate as soon as possible.

A serious person maybe doesn't
sing in a piano bar all night
surrounded by girls.

As soon as I become a lawyer,
I will quit being a pianist.

But I can't at the moment,
I don't want to have to
rely on my parents.

But you won't have to worry.

You know something?

I think I've found the thing
that I've been waiting for
all my life.

Step.

I wanted to fix it up

for when you'd settled down
with a proper job and a wife.

It'll be fine, Dad.

Why do you always have to do
things your own way, son?

I won't let you down.
I'll do it my own way,
but I won't let you down.

So...
You want me to go?

Amos!

It's been a while.

Ettore, thank you for coming.

So...

How many exams have you missed?

All of them.

We have a mountain
in front of us,

so let's start climbing.

"...defines the relationship
of different entities
within a state.

Namely, the executive,
the legislature..."

But this girl, no.

Do you get to wear
one of those togas?

Of course. It's the only reason
I wanted to graduate.

[applause]

Congrats, my son.

I've finished tuning the piano.

-Finished?
-Yeah.

Sorry, I was asleep.

Between being in court all day

and half the evenings
playing in this joint

I don't get much sleep.

You want to try it?

Yeah.

[playing tune]

Permit me,
but I've heard you sing.

I just wanted to tell you
that you have a talent,
a rare talent.

I saw you a couple of years ago
with my wife.

Thank you.

Why are you still
singing in this dump?

You should be singing opera.

I lost my voice a few years ago,
and it never really came back.

And now it is such a strain
to find the notes it kills me.

I tell you,
your voice is beautiful

but it needs taking care of.
You're ruining it.

Really?

If you don't believe me,

I know a great singing maestro.

He works with
all the great singers,
Franco Corelli, for instance.

Franco Corelli?
I've tuned his piano for years.

His name is
Maestro Suarez Infiesta.

He's Spanish,
but he lives near here.

I'll give you an introduction,
if you want.

[singing "E Lucevan Le Stelle"]

Are you ready to make music...
your only reason to live?

Only if you are prepared
to make great sacrifices,

will I consent
to give you lessons,

and will you become
a great tenor.

Yes, but what should I do?

What sort of life do you lead,
my boy?

What do you mean, maestro?

What time
do you get up in the morning?

Well, it depends
on what time I go to bed.

No, no, no.

Bed 10:00pm sharp.

Up 7:00am precisely.

But I have to work.

Do you work in the evenings?

-I play in a piano bar.
-[scoffs]

This very evening will be
your last in that bar.

-Do you drink?
-My father makes great wine.

Good, you will
bring me a bottle. Yeah.

-Please, don't tell me
that you smoke.
-No, no!

Good, good, at least
you are doing something right.

How many hours a day
do you dedicate
to exercising your voice?

At the moment, almost none.

But from tomorrow onwards
I'll dedicate a lot of hours.

No, wrong, wrong, no.
Until you have learned
to use your voice properly,

do not sing,
do not even practice.
Nothing. Zero!

How much do you talk?

To ask the time, for instance,
how many words do you use?

I say... what time is...

[babbles]
Too many words!

Silence. Do not speak.

Noon, two o'clock, who cares
what time it is! Silence!

Silence.

Silence is the most important

and the most difficult
discipline.

Oh, do you have a girlfriend?

Yes.

That's a good thing
if she's happy to accept

the boring
and extremely irritating person

you will become
after my lessons.

[laughs]

Ready?

[playing tune]

[singing "E lucevan le stelle"]

Hold on, hold on.
Stop, stop, stop, stop.

Your voice is concealed.

Here.

If I do this...

[sings from his throat]

I'm throwing a lot of air,

nothing is happening,
nothing is vibrating.

But look at this.

[sings from his chest]

[singing "E lucevan le stelle"]

Lean into it, lean!

Hold it, hold it! Stop, stop.

You didn't give it
support from your body.

Take a deep breath.

No, I can't feel it.
Can't feel it.

My hand must expand outwards.

Outwards and inwards,

every time you take a breath.

[mumbles indistinct]

Scales!

[singing scales]

[singing scales]

[singing "E lucevan le stelle"]

[panting]

Here!

All right.

Things have gone well.

Very well I might say.

Your voice has yet
to fully mature,

but so far...

...the results have been...

...excellent.

My husband has been waiting
a long time for this moment.

And because we wanted it,
it happened.

Isn't this forbidden?

Today we drink together
to your future.

-Thank you, Maestro.
-No, no, no, no.

Thank you.

And in return
I have a little gift for you.

A friend of mine has a
recording studio in Modena.

I have asked him as a favor
to record your voice for you

as a souvenir of
our work together.

We will go... we will
go there together, if you want.

-Thank you again, Maestro.
-Good, good.

And then there is one more thing
I would like to say to you.

Listen, son,

singers, before a performance,

must remain in a condition
of the most absolute silence.

It's a difficult
thing to achieve.

But when you have learned
how not to need words,

you will sense the sound
of your own breath,

of the movement of your muscles,

and even the movement
of a single hair on your head,
ruffled by the wind.

You...
you have a great advantage,

you're already
familiar with sounds,

they guide your
steps through life.

But the music of silence

will be your guide through
the interior of yourself.

And that, which you discover,

you will express
through the beautiful
perfection of song.

[singing "O giovinetta bella"]

[scattered clapping]

Samuel Trani.

That's quite a voice, Mr. Bardi.

Maestro, I'm sorry, I must go.

Maestro, can I hug you?

Of course you can hug me.

I have a surprise for you.

I told my mother that I was
staying at Alice's place,

and Alice told her mother
she was staying at my place.

But she's actually spending
the night with her boyfriend.

What does that mean?

What happens if they
call each other?

They won't, they're too scared
of finding out we lied.

[phone ringing]

Your mother.

No, it can't possibly be.

Amos Bardi.

[man on phone indistinct]

Yes, yes, we met at the studio.

Samuel Trani? Yes, I remember.

Zucchero Fornaciari?

Really?

Yes! Thank you.

What is it?

Zucchero wants to sing with me,
his agent was in the studio.

Zucchero? The rock star?

But why?
I mean, you're an opera singer.

It's an experiment, a rock star
singing with an opera singer.

He also mentioned Pavarotti,
who is singing with him
in America now,

but is thinking of
replacing him with me.

You're replacing Pavarotti?

I'm not sure. Maybe he wants me
to sing with both of them?

I was so excited
I wasn't really listening.

-That's fantastic.
-Yes. Yes, fantastic.

What's the matter?

The Maestro he's a purist,
if I go and sing rock music...

Pavarotti does it.

Pavarotti is Pavarotti.

He doesn't have to prove
anything to anyone.

Zucchero?
Pavarotti?

Maestro, if I was to think for
one minute that you disapproved,

-I'd give it up...
-Amos, Amos! Go.

Just go.

You still here?

-So, Maestro, you approve of me
singing with Zucchero?
-Of course.

Zucchero is a very good singer.

And good music is good music
whatever it is.

Pavarotti is a great singer.

And that Samuel Trani,
with whom you spoke
on the phone,

is a crafty so-and-so,
but he's a very clever agent.

Forgive me, Maestro, but how did
you know Trani called me?

-You said it.
-No, no, I didn't.

No?

Perhaps I imagined it.

[laughs]

Amos... just go.

Yes, he's in his office.

Please,
make yourself comfortable.

-I'll let him know you're here.
-Thank you.

You see, we were right
to come here in person,

these people
have busy schedules,

you have to force them
into the corner.

Thanks, Dad,
thanks for all your help.

Amos.

My profound apologies
for keeping you so long.

Pleasure to see you, boy.
Pleasure to meet you, sir.

Pleasure to meet you, too,
to meet you in person, my son...

I'm on my way now.

We're in the middle of releasing
a major record

and we just don't have time
for anyone else right now,

but don't worry, Pavarotti
was really enthusiastic

and I'll do everything I can
to put you on the tour.

Unfortunately, I have
a plane waiting. I must go.

Thank you.

It's OK.

Samuel called,
he spoke to Pavarotti!

Really?

When he told him I was
an unknown singer

from a piano bar,
he wouldn't believe it!

He said, "You don't think
I know a proper tenor
from a bar singer?"

What did he say then?

He said, "With this kid,
you don't need me!"

Oh, my God!

But I've got to keep myself
free from any other contracts.

Because I'll be
taking Pavarotti's place
on Zucchero's tour.

I'm going to call Papà
and Uncle Giovanni.

You know? You're not
a simple unknown bar singer
like Samuel says.

And when I see Pavarotti,
I'm going to tell him.

I suppose now we can
start thinking about
possible dates for...

...getting married?

[giggles]

The 27th of June.

[Bocelli narrating]
Unfortunately,
after all the enthusiasm,

there followed
a deafening silence,

a silence not of music,
but of torture.

After that first phone call,
Samuel disappeared for months.

[chattering]

Hey, Amos,
when are you going to Sanremo?

Signor Samuel Trani?

They told me he'd be back
from America 15 days ago.

He's out of the office?

No, he hasn't called me back.

Yes, he's got my number.

OK, with the De Bartolomei
and their three children,
that makes 150.

Is that too many for you?

Too many? No, whatever you want
is fine with me.

But what do you want?

I don't have time
to want anything!

I have to go out and get a job.

I had one at the piano bar,

and I left it to go
back to studying.

We've taken some very
big decisions, you and I.

Pavarotti, Samuel,
have all vanished,

and I'm back being supported
by my father. Do you understand?

Don't you want to
marry me anymore?

Everything is ready, and you
don't want to marry me anymore?

[groans] Don't.

Hey...

Don't.

It's OK.

It's OK.

[chattering]

Should we call him?

-I don't know.
-Yeah, I'll call him.

Hey!

Couldn't you confess yesterday?
Why now? Everyone's waiting.

-I committed a sin last night.
-What?

I dreamt that I slept
with Kim Basinger.

With Kim Basinger?
That's not a sin.

-Anyway, how are you feeling?
-Good.

Only sometimes I feel
someone else

is getting married in my place.

Elena, receive this ring

as a sign of my
love and fidelity.

In the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit.

Amos, receive this ring as a
sign of my love and fidelity.

In the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit.

You may now kiss the bride.

[Bocelli sings "Ave Maria"]

Hello, I would like to
speak to Samuel Trani.

[woman on phone] I'm afraid
he's not here, Mr. Bardi.

[Amos] What are you saying?

I should stop calling?

[woman on phone]
Mr. Trani said that
if you called,

to tell you we'll
get in touch with you directly
when we have some news.

And the tour?

[woman on phone]
Didn't they tell you? I'm sorry.

Mr. Pavarotti is now available
to do the tour,

so we will not need
a replacement.

Have a nice day, my love.

I'll be back a bit
late this evening,
I'm taking Alice to the doctor.

Did you know she was pregnant?

Did you hear me?
Alice is pregnant.

Don't you have anything to say?

Not the silence again.

You don't have any shows to do,
nor auditions.

You don't have to sing,
so what's the point?

I'm sorry.

Anyway,
Alice is expecting a baby.

[playing tune]

[horse whinnies]

[door opens]

Hello, Amos.

Are you alright?

Maestro, I came to thank you.

The discipline of silence
is good for my voice,

and even better for my spirit.

I really need it at the moment.

Often, when we talk,
we say stupid things

and important things get lost.

But maybe this is not
the time for silence.

Tell me, what's the matter?

We're going to have
to stop our lessons for a bit.

I don't have an income

and I can't keep on being
a burden for my family.

My wife... she wants a child.

She doesn't say it directly,

but she does everything she can
to get the message across.

We had our share of hard times
when we were young.

But the sun always
comes out after the storm.

Have faith, Amos.
Just have faith.

[Amos playing tune]

I know you're there.

What can I do to make you happy?

[phone ringing]

-Hello?
-[woman on phone]
Is Mr. Bardi there please?

It's very important.

-Amos, it's for you.
-I can't now.

Amos.

[on phone] Hello, Amos, it's
Zucchero Fornaciari, listen,

I'm doing a concert
in one week's time.

I want you to sing with me.

Elena...

[chuckles] We did it.

We did it!

[laughing]

[applause]

[announcer]
Ladies and gentlemen,

the concert will begin...

[both laughing]

[Sandro] Amos.

Amos, I remember I used
to get so angry with you,

so many times
I called you an idiot,

and... look where you are now.

I'm very proud of you, my son,

and I'd like to ask you
to forgive me.

[chuckles]
It was just my way.

And maybe I haven't been
a good father to you.

But don't... don't answer that,
you'll ruin your voice.

[giggling and chatting]

-Enchanté.
-Ah, good evening!

Good evening.

Time to go, Amos!

Don't worry being compared with
Pavarotti, the audience won't.

Let's go.

[applause]

Amos Bardi!

[singing "Miserere"]

That was great!
That was wonderful!
I'm so proud of you!

You did it! You did it!

Amazing!

-[knocking on the door]
-Come in!

Please, an autograph!

[all chattering]

Where are you going?

To look at the moon.

[singing continues]

[applause]

Excuse me,
does this train stop at Sanremo?

-Yes.
-OK.

Mr. Bardi,
can I have an autograph, please?

Thank you.

Prego.

[man on intercom indistinct]

Elena! Are you asleep?

No.

What's the matter?

We're not far from home.

I was thinking,
let's do something crazy.

Let's just get off, you and I.

Let's just give it all up.

What do we care
about the festival,
about success, huh?

Let's just go back home and make
our lives one day at a time.

Are you seriously trying to say
that you want to throw away

the greatest chance
of your life?

I mean,
there isn't an Italian singer

who wouldn't want
to be in your place.

Are you sure about this?

[applause]

[singing "Nessun dorma"]

[Bocelli speaking Italian]

[singing in Italian]

[singing ends]