Original subtitles

ME, ME, ME... AND THE OTHERS

A film protesting the conceit of egoism created by ALESSANDRO BLASETTI

Forget the venue...

Some famous writers do their best thinking here.

Just as well...

Someone's put "LONG LIVE I" in writing.

The others, on the contrary...

All these nice people, for example, God forbid,

wouldn't even dream of such a motto.

They just practise it.

My apologies. Some are capable of being considerate to others.

Where do we come from? What about tomorrow's world?

With butter or oil?

A touch of tomato?

With mushrooms and a hint of onion?

I'll leave it up to you. Que sera sera.

Yes, I'll have the mushrooms but no onion.

All the same... Mushrooms, yes. Onion, no.

Reserved for you. Middle coach, forward seat.

Your whiskey? - Chivas Regal. - Soda?

No, just a little ice.

No doubt, there is only one "self", one's own.

Indeed, who are the others? What are they?

There they are.

That's what they look like when seen from above.

What about me? Each of you is saying.

Me, with my skills...

Me, with my wife's skills...

I, who am a dreamer...

I, who am a conman...

Me, with my might...

Me, with my modesty...

Finally, me...

Me, with my personality...

Per-so-na-li-ty, you might say...

You expect me to mingle with those ants?

Those grains of sand?

Those bacteria? Me?

Me of all people?

Patrons, that's what you look like

to the people down there.

Maybe I should start like that,

straight to the point.

Granted, no one would want to be taken for that chap.

But then, he wouldn't want to be taken for someone else.

He'd think he'd lose in the swap,

like all of us.

Like the 3.5 billion people who...

Like the 3.5 billion people

who can't stop saying:

Me...

Me...

Me...

and the others.

Be my guest.

That's an idea. I'll have the same.

Is it okay, sir? - Yes...

And now, from "me" we'll go to "mine".

This is my fan and my air.

The butt is mine too.

It's a matter of principle.

This table's free. Seat the gentlemen, please.

That's what he thinks.

This will be my table for as long as I like. I'll leave when I please.

Of course, I'm just as bad.

No, I'm the worst.

The king of egoists, it's me.

I've found it. - What?

A seat. We won't have to stroll through Via Veneto.

Mocking those poor people, you moron.

Migrants going home after a long separation.

Or leaving for a long time.

Excuse me, madam. Pardon me.

May I?

Excuse me... Excuse me...

Pardon me.

May I?

Excuse me!

Okay, workers of the world unite. All right.

But there's a limit.

You're all here, standing,

sitting, lying blissfully...

What the heck! Comfort has its limits, too.

Comfortable? I gave you a double mattress.

Thanks. - Was it a good dinner?

A drink to help you digest? Your cordial, Campari.

Yes, my usual. And some mineral water.

Not fizzy!

Hey, guys, look at that.

Holy cow!

What a looker!

What are you staring at?

Never seen a train before?

May I?

Done.

There she is! Gisella!

How was the exhibition? - Very interesting.

Long live Pop Art, then. - It's a "must see".

I see what you mean. - What, you idiot?

Especially from down here. - Be my guest.

Try to tell a woman how to protect her modesty and she'll reply:

"I decide what and when.

I'll decide who."

No need to scream. You have your robe on.

You swine.

An accident. - Shame on you!

I mean, it's really puzzling...

I wonder who screamed. Her or her robe?

Camera... smile!

How many times should I say it? My ear must be covered.

Dresser, mirror, comb...

Exposure for the sake of it.

Here, madam. - Thank you.

Close-ups show my bunny ears.

Let's get on with it.

Roll... Remove towel, place banknote.

Got a large note?

No, they're out of circulation. Pardon me.

How much? - Twelve hundred.

Thank you. I'll do it.

I like this stuff too.

Look at these beauties!

I'm just on a research assignment.

A sad one, I might add. - Really? - May I? - Of course, madam.

They cheer me up.

Unlike most people, I'm not ashamed of it.

Have you ever seen anyone openly look at a nude picture

in a public place? Like this.

Well, I do.

I even undress those who are dressed. Mentally, I mean.

Thank you. I admire your candour. But I'd like to undress too.

Gosh! They'll arrest me.

Excuse me...

Damn! Trepossi's coming this way.

What are you up to? How's it going?

Hi, there.

Not very promising.

There's a sort of angst in the air.

I understand you rang me a few times.

Yes. You're always in conference.

That flaming Capranica Award.

Going for it? - It's up to my publisher.

I didn't call you for that. - Of course not.

I just wanted your opinion on that survey of mine...

Ah, yes! So I've heard, a survey on selfishness.

You're a touch late. Other got there first, my dear.

Keep on ringing me. Don't give up. See you.

We'll talk about it. - But you're so busy.

Sandro!

How can you walk around like that?

When will you learn a little neatness?

If only I had married an accountant.

Sandro! Have you gone crazy? Get in!

Are you...?

Holy shit, what a nightmare!

Quite interesting, though.

Incommunicability...

How can they read your soul? They can't see you're undressed.

Will they understand?

Who cares? The less they understand you, the more they respect you.

But...

Who was the only one to realize my predicament?

Peppino.

Frank, pure, enthusiastic, good-hearted,

hopelessly gullible Peppino.

Excuse me.

Are you ill? - No. Just being discreet.

I thought so.

Hands off me! - I was picking up my glasses.

How rude.

He didn't want to be disruptive.

Talking to me?

I can lend you my jacket.

Excuse me. Are you having me on?

No. I was leaving. They won't let you in without a jacket.

Not without a jacket. - Don't you want your pension?

And you? - I've waited so long, a minute more, a minute less.

Go on. I'll wait here.

Go. - Sorry, sir. I'm afraid without a jacket...

No worries. I'll enjoy the sun.

Peppino!

My dear Peppino...

By the by...

I hope he's at the station. Or I'll have to catch a cab.

The problem is that for every good soul like Peppino

there are a thousand skunks like me.

Or like Trepossi.

Sandro, I can't right now. Call me tomorrow.

Do you want to cross? - Yes.

A blind man!

A blind man!

After you, my child.

I don't deserve it. Let me say, non sum dignus.

No...

You've always been a good Christian.

One, two, three, four. Move!

One, two, three, four. Move!

Thank you, God, my merciful God!

God's on my side. God's on my side.

God is loving...

because He's on your side.

Trepossi, you disgust me.

My dear Trepossi, my first call is for you.

Yes, I'll hold, no worries.

Peppino! - How's going? - See to my luggage.

Hello, my friend.

Sure, just give me a time.

Go ahead. I'm in no hurry.

Okay, I'll wait a few minutes.

Maybe... Maybe I'll call you back.

"My Dream", at the Archimedes. Who cares?

"Slaves Exist", at the Ariston.

Barberini, Bologna, Capranica... Trashy movies everywhere.

At the Fiamma? - "How to marry an PM." - Again!

I have to go now. Take care.

Hold on, Spartacuccio wants to say bye-bye.

Say bye.

Bye! Bye, Daddy.

Come on, say bye-bye. I'll make him say it.

Don't go. Bye, Daddy!

Damn! I'll catch a later train, but he has to say bye-bye.

Say: Bye, Daddy!

"Nude Sex by Night", the usual sluts.

You've skipped "Metropolitan". Don't rush. - Right.

Sandro, I'm parked illegally.

I have an amazing gift. Come along.

You look great. - Don't hold me like that...

For your survey... - My luggage? - In there.

The best idea you've ever had.

But you must include good points too,

not just junk.

Got 30 minutes? I'll take you. You'll thank me.

Where? Right now? - Yes. An hour at the most.

Stop fooling around. - Trust me.

What's it all about? - Trust me.

And... where are we going? - Grottaferrata.

Grottaferrata?

30 km away? - Less than half.

I was there last week, editing my novel.

And you came across a nudist camp?

Just wait.

You will get there and be fascinated.

You'll thank me for it.

Lots of work going on...

New piping everywhere. We had no water for 3 days.

It was great. Really!

Turning on the tap and seeing water again

was such a joy...

I lived through the war. But that was long ago.

A sort of forgotten joy.

A discovery!

This is the spot.

I'd come here to revise the draft of my novel.

And every day, around this time...

Do you realize we're evicting ourselves from the Garden of Eden?

Concrete and progress are annihilating our world.

So, what happens around this time?

Here they come! Let's hide.

Squat. Get down!

My God, they're ugly! - True. And old too.

Clearly, they're penniless.

Old, odd and ugly. Quite unique. - Exactly.

Yet, see how they walk?

They're only passing through. You'd never have seen them.

Who are they? - No idea. That's irrelevant.

What's relevant, then?

What? Just look at them.

Old, odd and ugly, as you put it.

But see how they soldier on... in total harmony.

Can't you see?

I'm a damned fool! I always fall for it.

Peppino, I have so little time!

You didn't even let me drop my luggage off.

I couldn't ring Trepossi. An entire morning wasted

to see those two skeletons, two freaks of nature...

Who cares if they're happy?

Too bad. I'd cry my eyes out if I were them.

Let's go.

I'm not coming. Take the car. I'll walk.

Stop that. This whole thing is preposterous enough.

You're right. Take my car and keep it in your garage.

I'm off to Milan for a month.

Stop. I don't feel like walking.

Get in. That's really uncalled for.

I'm walking. When I'm tired, I'll catch a tram.

I'm in no mood for an argument.

But we are arguing. - Okay.

It's unheard of, in total harmony...

That's what he thinks. How does he know?

They came this morning, rates and mortgage.

Poor Peppino...

I'll call him tomorrow.

I almost forgot, the phone.

85,000 lire. Do you phone novels through?

It's a fortune, almost half my fur repayment.

That, too. - Of course.

By the way...

Sorry.

Try to work on Trepossi. The award is tomorrow.

Three million lire.

It would come in very handy. - Sure. And how!

You could pay off my fur and forget about it.

A wife... another paragon of selfishness.

They don't look like wives at first...

Baby! My poor little darling!

Murderers! - Is that yours, madam?

That's immaterial. - Well? - Well nothing!

Murderers! - Who?

We all know how they end up, killed like animals.

Murderers!

Stop or I'll call a cop. Officer, please...

Watch out, he could bite you.

Dogs only bite those who deserve it. They should do it more often.

She insulted me publicly. - He wanted to kill my pet.

Yours, my foot! Don't shift your ground.

She called me a murderer. - What do you call a killer?

I see no difference between a man and a dog.

Besides, I believe in metempsychosis.

If you were in India, a truly civilized nation.

In India, a cow... - That may be so, madam.

But your dog has no leash. And the muzzle?

The lady is carrying her dog, that makes it a lap-dog.

And as such it needs no leash or muzzle.

I'm a journalist. I can vouch for it.

Please do! Taxi! Could you get me a taxi?

I have a car. I'd be honoured...

If you insist.

My little darling! Thank you.

Well done! You love dogs too.

It's impossible not to. - Some prefer cats. I have two.

My Siamese is so jealous.

I always get myself into trouble. Altruism's a bad habit.

On the contrary.

What will I do with him now?

I can't abandon you.

I can't take you home...

Do you have any cats? - No. I have no pets. I live alone.

Ideal. The dog will love it.

Love what? - Your home!

Don't give him plain meat.

Always mix it with some boiled rice and...

Give him a bath right away. He's ridden with fleas.

My house isn't suitable. I swear.

Shall we go and have a look?

Put it away. - Yes, madam.

Hello... Hi!

We've just walked in.

The usual nut case!

Titta may not want to go out.

Who is it? - Sensani. - Robertaccio! Go where? - Dancing.

Sure.

Okay. Where? - No!

No, I can't. - Why?

My hair's not done.

Keep your hat on. - Sure! Are you mad?

Sorry, Roberto. I misunderstood.

Titta would have loved to, but...

I'm tired. - She's tired.

No... She's very sleepy.

What? Sure, I'll come alone.

Come off it!

I won't come on my own.

Because I don't like to.

Lianella's there? Hug her on my account too.

Who? Titta?

What are you saying?

You don't know her at all. - What?

You're jealous of Lianella.

What did you say?

Go on, repeat it.

What am I?

You must be joking.

Lianella's delightful. But I don't fear Bardot herself.

Fancy me being jealous. I hate nags.

Cut it out. Just say no.

Want me to look like a bore who locks up her husband?

No, nothing.

A thriller's waiting for me. I wouldn't swap it for you.

You must be mad.

Really?

Stop that.

Know what? Sandro's on his way.

But that's why he's coming.

Actually, let me know if he cuts a fine figure.

What are you up to?

It's all settled. Bye!

All done? - Yes, madam. Anything else? - Good night.

I don't want to go dancing alone.

But why?

I don't want people to say I hold you captive.

Hurry up! Don't tell me you hate it.

Roberto's a nice chap. I can't sleep...

See? Keep moving, then. Get ready.

Yes, but...

Wear your alpaca suit. It's much cooler.

And your black, Herm�s tie...

Your carnelian cufflinks...

Black, cinnamon, carnelian... It's a perfect match.

Well? Are you daydreaming?

What's up?

A sexy combination...

Petticoat and hat.

Really?

I look so ugly tonight. - A real monster.

Just as well Lianella will make up for it.

Why don't you come too?

Find it odd for a woman to let her husband be admired by her friends,

knowingly?

You don't say! - Of course.

Titta...

Stop that!

Don't keep them waiting.

Since you've chosen everything else,

choose my shirt, too.

All right.

Don't just stand there. Get undressed.

Titta, please...

I got it. I won't budge until you're ready.

By the way, how old is your Lianella?

Nineteen, twenty?

Nineteen. - A young girl.

You must admit I've got better legs.

You have the world's greatest legs.

Sure... and narrow hips too.

I never said that. - It's true. Look!

If only I had a couple of extra centimetres.

Well? What now?

Titta... - Will you get dressed?

What are you doing? What's come over you?

Titta, you're so...

Stop it.

Go away. You'll be late.

Go and get dressed. - Let me caress your feet first.

Will you please go away?

You're all mine.

You'll embarrass me.

I warn you. Don't get me started.

What happens if I do?

Just show me.

You can be pig-headed at times.

Mind my hat!

Hurry up, now.

Or they'll think I made a scene.

As for your friend Roberto...

Guess what he dared tell me?

He invited you in order to see me.

He says...

Forget it. - Go on. What does he say?

Can't you even do up your shirt?

What does Roberto say?

He was joking. Nothing.

It's not the first time.

He says he likes me a lot...

When he sees me...

his mouth goes dry and his blood rises to his ears.

Charming!

He's a true friend. - I nearly forgot. He said...

"Titta...

you have an unforgettable mouth,

worth losing one's soul for."

He said what?

He was just being funny. - Funny, my foot!

Go away.

Besides, what can you tell from a mouth?

Hello?

Robertaccio!

Of course. He just left.

Have fun.

When you get there, have a brandy.

You're a little off color.

She's honest about thrillers, though.

She loves them and they induce her to sleep.

But when, sometimes, they don't work...

What? - Turn around.

Titta, I'm sound sleep. - But I'm not.

Well, then?

Give Titta a little scratch, so Titta can go beddy-byes and leave you alone.

No, be good now!

I'm falling asleep.

I'm wide awake now.

Keep going.

Keep scratching, don't be selfish.

Sorry!

Care for a drink? - No. Just a second...

What about giving it a little oil? - Sounds like a cicada, quite cute.

But if it bothers you...

Having problems? - What?

Looking for a word or an idea?

Any point in asking me?

It's not that, darling. I'm editing. - You could dictate it to me.

I can't do it that way.

If someone stands behind me when I'm writing, I...

Right. I'm sorry!

I'm not up to it, I know.

Come off it. - You may wonder why you married me.

Apart from the obvious.

Are you out? - To everyone.

Hello? How are you?

I can barely hear you.

It must be your telephone.

Okay. Do call again.

It was Lianella, your floozy.

She's asked me out. - Great!

You're getting rid of me. - No, darling.

Hello!

I hear you clearly now.

Sorry, my dear. I can't. I must stay at home.

Go...

Sandro's working, you know.

Which means he's in another world. In a trance.

He looks so powerless, desperately needing protection.

Afraid so...

Intellectuals looks so self-assured, but they yearn for everything.

Understanding, atmosphere...

Do me a favor! Assist him? That's not the point.

Though I was an A student.

Of course, I keep very quiet.

But now and then I give him a suggestion, a clue...

By the way...

I bumped into Carlotta. She's double the size.

"Fat is beautiful", she says. She may have fewer lines

but she's as wide as a desk!

Sandro! The swing!

Enough! Enough of being a recluse in my home.

Fresh air, where are you?

Star, you're a sun surrounded by servant planets.

There are billions of suns in our galaxy alone...

And there are billions of galaxies in the universe.

Think what all of you men are with your egos.

Infinitesimal particles of nothing.

Starting with me, naturally. Perhaps...

Oh, infinity!

True...

Yet, humans don't care.

Other things matter more.

They sleep.

Bet she's not wearing her pyjama pants...

There! Told you!

Too bad!

Titta, are you still in the bathroom?

I feel like having an early night too. After five days away...

Do it up for me, please.

What's this?

See what I do for you? - For me?

Yes, so that you have an attractive wife.

Sorry, but I... - Can't speak right now!

Phoned Trepossi, immediate answer.

Will meet you tomorrow. 9 a.m., usual caf�.

Okay.

'Night, sweetheart. - 'Night.

END OF DAY ONE

DAY TWO

Humans are so selfish. Laughing at someone else's misery.

I'll jump off because you disgust me. Your horns are as tall as a tower.

You bunch of vultures gorging on the dead!

Your wallets are full of whores! You sewer rats with yachts!

They'll put a tax on your horns soon!

He says he's unemployed. - If all the unemployed...

We'll applaud!

He's not going to jump. - He will.

No, he won't.

It's all bullshit.

Let's get out of here.

Kill him!

Teach him a lesson.

Look, he's blown his head off.

What a shot, man! - Gee, this is fun!

Good morning! - Good morning, sir.

Some laugh at people's troubles, others live off them.

Congratulations. I envy you.

We must keep fit. Look! Do what I do.

Bend forward, chest out... Bend forward, chest out...

Breathe in...

Loosening up...

Loosening up...

That's how you get your reward, is it?

Excellence...

Sack Tagliaferri and the crisis will end.

He comes Panizza. - Is he centre centre? - Centre right. - Really?

Centre right pragmatist.

A rationalist, that is.

Watch out, Colantuoni's observing us. He's related to Tagliaferri.

Cut him off from the right and you'll win.

I'll keep in touch.

Befriending the enemy, are we? - Just testing the ground.

Will they compromise? - Did they tell you?

I have the names. Eight plus Morganti.

Centre right, too? - True blue.

Look at that creep. - Let's nominate Colantuoni

in lieu of Tagliaferri. - And make them stronger?

We'll trap them anyhow.

No word from Tagliaferri yet.

Waiting for a union move? - He had a stroke and lost his speech.

What about Colantuoni? - He wants Zacco to speak first.

The Senate will give him the chop. - Perfect!

Guess who their candidate is. - Speak up.

The accord's 4th man... - A moderate.

Laurenzi. - I knew it.

Their candidate? - Pinin.

With Panizza. - But he's centre right! - Centre centre.

Tagliaferri has passed away.

Gentlemen...

Tagliaferri...

Let's go, please.

Come along.

It's give and take.

Our Under-Secretary No. 7 will be...

Finizio!

God Forbid! I'm a simple...

Say yes. Or we'll have to start from scratch.

In that case, for the sake of peace...

My portrayal, my friends,

will make you die of scorn.

May I?

Forgive my intruding,

but it's 8.30.

You're to see Trepossi at 9 o'clock.

Damn it!

They can break into your car,

dismantle it in broad daylight, no cop will notice.

But park in a restricted zone for one minute and...

At least I'm not the only one.

There are 6 other victims.

Here comes the eighth.

To each their turn. That's equality for you.

Sir, Mr. Trepossi couldn't wait. You can call him at the paper.

Not before 12, he said.

But it's hardly 9 o'clock.

Three hours is no big deal. Time flies. A strong black?

Forget it.

Hurry up! Move! Faster! You bunch of lazy sheep!

Stop! Or it's the end of you.

Urbis et orbi...

Urbis et orbi...

No doubt human beings are born with a God complex.

The moment they walk on a podium...

Be it a podium, stage or balcony....

It's me, up here, and you, down there.

Pumpkin game! Pumpkin game!

I'll be the farmer. - No, I will.

Why? - You were yesterday. Today it's my turn.

So, you'll be pumpkin 1, pumpkin 2... - Four! - Three!

No. 5, 6 and 7.

Three pumpkins are missing from my plot.

Why 3? - How many, then?

Two. - Why two? - How many, then?

One pumpkin. - Why one?

Where the death of 50 million people was planned: MUNICH 1938

Eight pumpkins are missing

from my plot!

Why eight pumpkins, please?

How many then? - Seven pumpkins.

Why seven? - How many then?

Three pumpkins.

Why three? - How many then?

Eight! Then eight there shall be!

I said, three.

I said, eight pumpkins. - Why...?

eight pumpkins?

Why?

How many, then?

No more than seven pumpkins.

Then I say the entire plot!

No. I refuse to march with all these morons.

No way.

Gee, it's cool!

It's so hot outside.

This is the real thing.

No air-conditioning.

Very well.

I know why you're in here. "Refugium Peccatorum", my foot!

"Frigidarium Peccatorum" is more like it.

"Refugium" is okay when it rains.

True. It would be quite enlightening compiling a list of the reasons

why people go to God's house.

Other than the weather, I mean.

There's worse.

Some come here just to gather their thoughts.

I'd better jot that down or I'll forget.

What about those lovely ladies flocking to mass in a cloud of devotion

and Diorissimo?

I will pray, worship and sing, with my gorgeous diamond ring.

Virgin Mary, be my rock. I look lovely in this frock.

In the Lord I will confide. Look at my front, back and side.

O merciful St Theodore, my hat is from Dior.

When I look at you, from up here,

I ask myself: "Are there no poor people in my parish?"

But when I look at the alms box in the sacristy, I ask myself:

"Where are the rich?"

I'll pay the balance,

when you get me the contract.

Understand?

Yet, it's not so long ago

when men flocked to church with great enthusiasm.

And you couldn't get them out.

Any partisans in here?

We must search now! - You can't. - We'll do what we please!

Watch out!

Keep back!

Other functions of God's house:

education and tourism.

At last! Someone who's here to pray.

660...

690...

Thirty days' indulgence for ejaculation.

He'll earn 50 years before vespers.

After all, it's quite true,

you don't have to deserve God's love.

God has to deserve yours by...

by making Himself useful.

Make Roma win the match.

Also Spal, Atalanta and Padova.

Make Milan, Bologna and Fiorentina lose.

Make all the others draw.

Amen.

Good Lord, make the government fall. It's in your interest too.

Grant my wish, Lord. Make that crook drop dead.

You can do that. Or do you want me to see to it?

Then you come here, you kneel down,

an act of contrition and a few Hail Marys,

and everything is fine. If only I had it my way...

Tell me, my son.

I stole public money.

I can't hear you.

I stole public money.

Louder!

I stole public money.

Louder!

I stole public money. Everyone can hear me.

Just what I wanted. You shameless crook!

Tell me, my child. - I was rude to my father.

Actually, I insulted him to defend Pop Art.

You insulted your father to defend what?

Pop Art.

Go and say the Lord's Prayer in front of the altar.

And sing Waltzing Matilda in front of the Cenotaph.

They'll think I'm nuts. - But you are nuts.

Totally nuts! Get out of here!

And you? What are your sins?

What are yours?

Mine?

Mine...

Mine...

Trams!

More selfishness galore. Why don't I ever catch them?

Push them in. It's empty inside.

Where are you going? It's packed.

Didn't you say it was empty?

Not Indro! He's a pain.

How will I get rid of him?

Peppino told me about your survey on selfishness.

I have stacks of information. - I must go.

I'll come too. - Don't!

Remember, I have stacks of information.

See you soon. - Don't forget. Bye.

Excuse me. - Sorry.

I was saying goodbye.

A funeral.

How sad. - It disturbs me.

Such is life.

Occasionally, we do feel for our fellow humans.

Children rejoicing at a sudden holiday.

The President's been shot.

I recommend the 85,000 lira package. Satin coffin, gold and plumage...

All-inclusive.

When did he leave?

Let's go for the 56,000 one. I have to tell you it's a tad sombre.

Last rites in Via Palermo, 2. - Okay.

White coffin to Via Boncompagni, 43.

Deluxe carriage.

Accident in Corso Italia.

Hold it. - Quickly! - Go on.

A Mercedes and a Buick...

All Americans. Three coffins by sea.

Hello? I need another obituary column for Mr. Ceresia Papabon.

Another one? Where can I put it?

So many deaths today! - It's only one person.

A massacre! - He was a general.

Your funeral notice must wait until tomorrow.

It's all over for him.

Listen, I have another obituary column.

Keep the two births on hold.

No way! They came from the boss himself. Our editor, you jackass.

Maybe he was behind them.

By the way, remove "Heart of a City". No one's sending donations.

Hello! - Hi, selfishness-flogger. I've something for you.

Is the suicide off? - Yes.

I'd found a good title. - What?

I'll read you the facts first. Where's the suicide note?

You, who deny altruism... - But this is a suicide.

"My beloved, it breaks my heart having to leave you, etc...

At least the creditors won't be hard on you and the kids."

So, bang, he shot himself. - Poor devil.

"You're a strong woman, though you never worked.

No sacrifice will be too great for the good of our children."

There are three plus one on the way.

"As I face the ultimate sacrifice,

I entrust my old and frail mother to you."

Well...

"My mother and Maria, too." - As well!

"You know an asylum would kill her.

Keep her in Blossom House at all costs."

Blast him! - It's already been done.

"Goodbye, Enrica. I'm dying for you. I only have one last wish.

Remember our pledge on our first night?

Of course you do. So you won't remarry.

This is the last wish of your..."

Title? - "Generosity of a Suicide."

No. "You Won't be Alone."

Who's here for Mr. Trepossi? - Me.

Can I have it? - Sure.

He had to rush to the Vatican. He'd like you to call him.

Your Eminence...

Okay. I'll call him.

Sandro!

Hi! How are you? - I'm fine. And you?

Two illustrious men together.

Give me a break! - Push off.

All spruced up, so dapper...

Where are you off to? - The Robertis'... their annual do.

The Capranica Award is coming up.

No? - Thanks.

So, you got it? - Not yet. It's no big deal.

Will it be your third award this year?

Who cares?

Wait. I'll take it from here. You'll look taller.

Brotherly...

Awards don't mean a thing.

Trepossi wants me to go to the Robertis'.

"You were chosen unanimously. But you must be there", he said.

Is he in? - Yes, he is.

He was about to go out. I'm pressed for time.

Besides, I might even impress the refined female audience.

Good luck. - I'll need it.

You sure will. All spruced up

and his fly open.

Really? His fly open?

Doesn't he know? And you didn't tell him?

So, he'll get there... with his britches undone?

Why do you think I was photographing from below?

Think of the headline... "An Opening in the Centre"

Holy shit!

See you. - You creep!

Sandro? Here he comes.

Weren't you Moratti's friend?

Peppino, yes... Why "weren't I"?

Milan just called. He died this morning.

Peppino's dead? God! He was my age.

How? - An accident.

Just as well...

I'm holding. We'll get the details tonight.

What a halfwit! A worker was falling from the scaffolding

and he ran to catch him with open arms.

Will you write the story? Who better than you?

"In this world of false bravery, wickedness and false compassion,

false generosity and false friendship

perhaps you were the only one left, Peppino,

the last true altruist,

the last true hero

and the last true friend.

No one will love me now unless I feign requital of their love.

And consistent to the very last moment,

you met with death as you were offering life.

Forever, in our minds,

we'll see you running with open arms as if about

to welcome a child's embrace.

I'll try, Peppino,

although my arms are always so obstinately crossed,

to defend the sterility and mistrust I harbour within.

Like you, I'll try to open them to all, unconditionally.

I'm not saying I'll succeed.

But I promise I'll try."

Moving, very moving.

Arrogant, but very clever.

Cut it out.

You've spoken... about friendship in a very credible way,

in a touching way.

Think so? - Look at me. Look at her, she's powdering herself.

The fact is...

Peppino...

was Peppino. - So unique.

Too unique. Give me that.

Apparently he didn't die. - What?

He's in an oxygen tent, but he's still alive.

Can't be.

What? - Nothing. - Nothing?

Fortunately, our dear Peppino...

isn't dead.

Yes. We've just had a telex. Apparently he revived at the hospital.

Cardiotonics, oxygen tents, all those new things...

Besides, the worker was Sardinian, you know, small

and lighter than usual.

Are you serious?

God, I'm so happy.

Relieved, you mean. Shame, though.

What? - I mean...

Such a great piece going to waste.

What are you saying?

It's about a human life and a friend.

But I wish that

in a hundred years, he might die like that,

with his arms open...

"Open arms...

as if about to welcome a child's embrace."

Right. Let's keep it for then. - Please!

Don't! The worker survived. A Sard, healthy and sturdy.

Peppino died on the spot. His arms open, as you put it.

They took him home. Give me the galleys. They can go.

Hold on...

Look, they wrote "cild" instead of "child".

We'll fix it.

The first plane to Milan? - Tomorrow at 7 a.m.

Seven?

Damn! A black cat!

A very bad omen.

Where am I going?

That's all I needed when I'm late for my plane.

Good day. After you. - Thanks.

Old women are exempt.

It's all nonsense, anyhow.

Not Indro again!

I won't let you go this time.

I'm sorry. You always catch me when I'm leaving.

Here's my cab.

I'm going to Milan, the 7 o'clock flight...

You know who died? - I know.

Peppino. - You know...

To the airport, please.

I read your story. Sheer poetry. - You read it?

Yes. My whole family did. All moved to tears.

Peppino was a dear friend. - A wonderful man.

And such a fine writer too, so articulate, compassionate...

Almost irreplaceable.

Yes. - But in your story, you proved to be worthy of...

Nonsense! - I mean it.

Your style's impeccable.

Come on, don't be silly!

I wrote that in about... half an hour. Fifteen minutes.

Weren't you in a hurry? - Have a safe journey!

You must hear what Bonomelli was saying about your story.

Going to the paper? I'll give you a lift.

What about Bonomelli?

What was he saying?

Nice of you to come. From Rome.

Just in time, they're about to close it.

Bye, now.

Francesca... - Mr. Sandro...

Peppino, what have you done?

Maybe I should kiss him.

But it's too late now.

We'll never argue, Peppino, never stroll together again.

And your voice, that dear voice of yours is no more.

Gone forever.

Well? How come I'm not crying?

Peppino? I really loved you.

It's hard to realize.

He said the same thing when his poor wife passed away.

We don't realize.

It's only after, day by day, that it hits you.

And you feel the real loss.

Sure. But you're crying. And me? Not even a tear?

That's not on.

Peppino,

who's going to love me the way you did?

You, the last true altruist,

last true benefactor,

last true hero,

last true...

friend.

Nothing, not a tear. How can that be?

I'll have to think of someone else. Who?

My mom... Yes, Mom.

No way, nothing doing.

Okay.

Go ahead.

What are you doing?

You can't obliterate a man just like that.

Are you mad? Are you mad?

Obliterate him...

forever?

I'm sorry.

It's hard to accept

we'll never see such a dear face again.

Sorry.

I didn't know you loved Daddy so much.

Perhaps we should move into the other room.

Sandro... Can I call you Sandro? - Of course, madam.

Mrs...? - Luigia, his sister-in-law. Remember me?

Yes, from Barletta. You're the mother of...

that little girl... - Nicetta. Yes.

Here she is.

Thank you very much.

It was kind of you to come.

Poor child... First her mother,

now her father...

Sit down.

Don't be afraid. You won't be alone.

You'll be home for the summer. We'll visit you. Mr. Sandro too.

Of course. - Will you really?

You've written wonderful things about her dad.

In a true Christian spirit, even though...

You're closer to God than you think.

We'll have our girls pray for you as well.

So the Lord may grant all your wishes.

Each and every one of them.

Mr. Sandro! You look devastated.

You look exhausted. - I'm a little...

You can't travel tonight.

You're welcome to stay.

Leave tomorrow. - We'll be less lonely.

I can't.

Soon after the...

I must be in Rome in the morning, absolutely.

Let me show you something.

I got it in Paris.

And isn't this one gorgeous?

One...

and two.

You've a one-track mind. - Always.

Wherever I am.

Even in a hospital, I swear.

I went to visit a friend. He was very ill.

I saw this nurse parading in the corridor.

I followed her and ended up in the wrong ward.

Well, that reaction

can be regarded, biologically speaking, as almost inevitable.

Indeed, it's the proximity of death

that stimulates our desire for...

desire for life.

You reckon? - Of course.

Holy shit! Education's a great thing.

I thought that desire was...

a filthy urge.

Wake me up at 8 with a coffee, please.

Don't worry. See to the lady.

Swedish...

Same berth.

I know what I'll do tonight sitting down there.

I won't sleep a wink.

I'll stare at the door of their berth.

Imagination's my weakness. That door will disappear.

It'll be like staring at them, moment by moment...

What they say, how they look at each other,

how they lie...

And so on. What can I do? I can't help it.

At least, I say it quite openly:

I'm a pig. Is that my fault?

Nonsense.

We're suffocated by the idea of all-pervading sex.

Fault? It's not your fault or mine.

Yours? It could never be your fault, you're an artist.

As you said, it's a research, a moral inquiry...

Even anguish, because you suffer for it.

I read that for you eroticism is despair...

Soul-searching.

That's right, it's soul-searching.

Never mind that.

What I mean is we can blame the wars we went through, all right,

they moral decline they caused,

but especially women.

For their constant exhibitionism.

Observe how they dress, walk... It's a constant provocation.

Conductor? - Yes, sir. - Can you shut that window?

It's draughty.

I agree with you.

It's a constant provocation.

They come along

with a defiant look...

Their hair falling over their eyes,

slothfully resting on one side,

like Phidias' Apollo.

Venus. - Apollo.

In their tight jeans...

Look at that.

All done, sir.

Good night.

So, since we're provoked...

Let there be no misunderstanding. I mean women, females!

The subjects of our fairytales, songs,

dreams...

Beatrice...

Silvia...

Laura...

True woman.

Women... who seem to have descended

from heaven to prove the existence of miracles on earth.

Right.

And they say men have one-track minds.

Yes, men...

Can I call you Sandro?

Luigia, his sister-in-law, from Barletta.

Don't you remember?

The mother of a blond, little girl...

who's not so blond...

or little any more.

She's so fond of you.

Thank you, thank you very much.

It was so kind of you to come.

You'll visit us, won't you?

You will, won't you?

Mr. Sandro!

You look devastated.

Devastated? I'm disgusted.

When the most...

the most decent, the most innocent looking,

the most loyal...

I didn't know you loved Daddy so much.

Are you with me? Anyway...

If a man's eye was replaced by the lens of a camera...

Have you ever met a woman who doesn't want to be a star?

Who would be content to be admired by a few?

That would be normal.

But by everyone,

over and above all other women?

Not yet. Another cushion.

Another one...

But you're showing... - Just suggesting. Go on.

Just a sec.

A few more drops...

My eyes are very important.

Tell me...

Do they stand out? - I see nothing else.

Like it better this way?

Hang on! The earrings are too tacky.

What look do you want?

The bashful look. - What?

The bashful look.

Don't close it! Forget ministers and Cardinals.

It's a movie star. She's leaving on the sleeper.

You've convinced me, sir. You're right. But she's a must.

An autograph, Mrs Silvia!

They're all pretty ugly, except one who's a monster.

Quiet! Their mothers and aunts are all around us.

Aren't you competing?

No. I'm here with my cousin.

How old?

She's twenty. - I mean you.

A touch curious, isn't he? Twenty-seven.

Stand up, please.

Why should I? - No need to ask questions.

Miss, I'm the director. If I ask... - There must be a reason.

Really? - Want me to beseech you?

I beg of you! - Silvia...

Someone to help us.

Just what we want.

What do you do, Miss? - Now I'm sitting down.

Then, I'll go.

What do you do for a living? Clerk, housewife?

She's an English teacher. - Are you married?

No. You're cross-examining me?

Good! The cameraman's here. Let's have a test. Now.

Come, dear.

Your friend thinks attracting a girl with the lure of cinema

is like shooting a cow in a hall. - What? What?

You wrote it yourself.

So, tell your pal he's wasting his time with me as I don't accept this nonsense.

Like you, he shouldn't insist.

I didn't insist out of...

Consistency. Right?

I'm ill at ease here. Offer me a drink.

We'll offer you the bar, if you like.

Don't worry.

Leave it to me.

Silvia... Good for you.

No dilly-dallying, straight upstairs...

And into the shower. - Immediately.

What a pain!

He wouldn't let go. He even tried to come up.

Are all directors like that? - The moron even said...

"I see. Love is in the air." - What an idiot!

Now that we're finally alone,

tell me... - Can you pour a Scotch? It's all ready.

Tell me frankly your overall impression.

For us, a revelation.

And for you? - The need for a shower.

We'll talk about it.

You were so incredibly beautiful,

majestic, ideal...

I'm glad you followed my advice.

It's all clear now. You hit the jackpot...

I'm due to sign tomorrow.

Really? - That fat, bald guy told me. - The producer.

You'd gone for your car.

Yes, he jumped in at once, the jerk.

And now, after freshening up, may I know your impression?

I was afraid. - No way!

You looked so calm, in full control.

That's why. I was afraid for not being afraid.

On the contrary...

I could see myself in the lens of the camera.

And I loved what I saw.

I was there, alone... just me.

I was alone...

isolated.

Isolated from what?

From everything and everyone... aloof.

A total break from the past... A clean slate.

I, who miss every passing minute and don't want to have any regrets.

Well?

Well, what do you say?

Me? Nothing.

I don't want to have any regrets either.

Clouds are lucky. They go with the wind.

Their journey's so serene.

They'll be in Naples soon. - Why Naples?

They're travelling south. And Naples is a happy place.

Wouldn't it be great to go to Naples with those clouds?

Thanks.

How? - My car's downstairs.

Know the road to Sperlonga?

Fabulous, cliffs on one side and sea on the other.

We'll reach Naples quickly and catch the ferry to Capri.

And tonight we can sip a drink in the piazza.

What would happen in Capri?

Nothing. What could happen?

We'll look at the sea...

conspiratorially aware of our juvenile escapade.

It would be wonderful.

Early in the morning we'd go down to Marina Piccola.

The water shouldn't be cold. We'd have our first swim of the season,

and then let ourselves go to the sweet pleasure

of being different,

away from it all...

friends, as we are already.

But happier for being that.

Who are you dining with? - Nobody. As you know.

Well, then?

Capri's impossible...

You're signing tomorrow. What about Naples?

We'll be back by midnight. Okay?

Okay.

I'll get dressed.

What... what did you say?

I'll get dressed and pack. We're going to Capri, not Naples.

It's nicer, isn't it?

But... what about your contract?

There'll be no contract. That's my decision.

If you want to. - If I want to?

Yes, if you want.

Sorry, I've never been at ease in these matters till now.

Look over here, Silvia. - Raise the Lion.

Higher...

Kiss it. - Go on. It doesn't bite.

Will you spare a word for our viewers? Thanks.

Our cameras are ready.

This way.

Silvia, are you happy with the Lion?

Yes. I love animals.

Even the wild ones? - This isn't so wild.

It's a battle to catch it...

Did you have to fight hard?

I used all the strength... of my producer and director, of course.

One last question. Would you like to share your joy with anyone?

"Like", no, "should", yes.

Who's the lucky guy?

The man who encouraged me to act.

Can you tell us the name of this genius?

Than man over there.

Who is he? - An Italian writer.

Let's invite him.

You can't let us down. - Thank you but...

But it's not true. - Very true.

It's been a long time, but remember the clouds?

And Miss New Face?

Raise the Lion!

A daring scene, and a very daring behaviour

but you carried it off with such style...

with the most refined elegance.

Absolutely enchanting.

Sin is not a naked body.

I wish we were all naked...

Free at last, no more hypocrisy or fear...

We'd greet each other, exchange niceties,

smell each other... all nude, beautiful and tanned

as in an ad.

You looked wonderful.

When I think that I also contributed...

Frankly, how do you feel when you think about it?

Proud? - That too. Maybe not.

It's hard to tell.

You see...

I feel a sort of gratitude.

A sense of appreciation...

A novel feeling.

Listen dear, if you're after the same thing

you needn't fuss around for days.

Venice is as famous as Capri for that sort of thing.

And handier too, it's here.

Go on. Send for a gondola.

But please, don't confuse the issues.

Nudity, feelings...

What a mess!

I think I finally realized why you wanted us to be alone.

I'd say so.

I also know you haven't understood,

despite tonight's success, that I had to disappoint you.

True, that was my role.

I had to convince you to become...

what you are today.

That's right. I didn't understand it at all.

That implies you've resented me for years.

I'm flattered by that.

Why? What have I robbed you of?

Don't tell me you had domestic goals?

That too. Why not?

A husband, a teaching job, a house, a washing machine...

Why not?

Seeing a movie with a man who loves Silvia, the woman, not the star.

Making babies...

Why not? Why not?

Then, drop the lot. Go back.

Don't you realize? You're a queen wherever you go.

You're admired all over the world.

But if you now...

Look. That's the second cigarette you've put out after a couple of puffs.

You were born a star.

Let's be honest. Do you want to?

That's all I want. But you must too.

That day, did you come to the contest

just to accompany your cousin?

See?

I went only for you. I knew you were on the panel.

I wanted to meet the man who wrote those things.

Hoping you'd be like him.

But you chose to travel with the clouds on a couch.

Going back... Too late.

Today, I miss nothing, regret nothing...

I need nothing and no one.

And that means a total vacuum.

Great, isn't it?

THE END

Subtitles: SBS, Australia, 1996

Synced and edited by: marooned2 & rosethorn, 'Tik, 2015