All language subtitles for The Belly of an Architect (1987) EN

(TRAIN CLATTERING)

(TRAIN HORN BLOWING)

(MOANING)

(STATION BELL RINGING)

(TRAIN RUMBLING)

(SIGHING)

- What a way to enter Italy.
- Ah!

Absolutely. The ideal way.

Ah, land of fertility, fine women,

inimitable history...

(HE LAUGHS)

...home of the dome
and the arch, good food,

and high ideals.

High ideals?

My father was Italian,
and he was very thin.

And only interested in money.

Yes, and carnivorous enough.

He had no ideals
except to leave this place.

Well, he was idealistic enough
to take all that money to Chicago.

(LAUGHS) City of blood, meat, and money.

(CHUCKLES)

Home of some of the best

carnivorous architecture
in the Western world.

That is, of course, outside of Rome.

Wow!

(MAN TALKING IN ITALIAN)

It's really beautiful.
This is really good.

Friends, amici, Signor Kracklite.

May I speak formally
on behalf of all of us

to say how pleased we are

to welcome such a celebrated
American architect to Rome.

And we wish you and your wife

all the best wishes on your birthday.

We know that the exhibition
of Etienne-Louis Boullée,

you do us the honour
of presenting here in Rome,

will be a resounding success.

Signor Speckler, thank you.

My friends, we both would like
to thank you very sincerely

for your very warm welcome.

Boullée's crowning achievement,

inspired, of course,
by the magnificent building

of the Pantheon, here, behind us,

was a memorial he designed
in honour of Sir Isaac Newton,

for whom Boullée had great reverence.

Now, I doubt whether Sir Isaac Newton
has ever before been celebrated

with, uh, sugar icing.

(LAUGHTER)

However, for me,

having waited so many years
to honour this visionary architect,

whom I have so passionately admired
ever since I was a child...

For me

this moment is very sweet indeed.

WOMAN: Aw.
-(PEOPLE APPLAUDING)

Etienne-Louis Boullée!

(CAMERA CLICKS)

KRACKLITE: Now, with your permission,
I'd like to call upon my wife

to cut this magnificent cake.

I can assure you
that she is very experienced

in opening supermarkets...

-(LAUGHTER)
-...kissing babies, christening ships,

and cutting the tape.

(PEOPLE TALKING IN ITALIAN)

Sir Isaac Newton,
the subject of tonight's cake,

appears in every Englishman's wallet.

A man who discovers gravity
must be a very good companion.

In fixing us firmly on the Earth,

he enables us with equanimity
to keep our head in the clouds.

If you look carefully,
you can spot a reference to gravity.

See if you can find it.
It's... It's an English note.

So, of course, it's laconic.

It's there, the apple blossom.

MAN: I hear, Signor Kracklite,

that your inspiration
for the Chicago-Angelo building

came entirely from
the profit on sausages.

No. Frankfurters, hot dogs,
hamburgers, salami, baloney.

(ALL LAUGHING)

A monument to carnivores.

In Chicago,
they call it the slaughterhouse.

A building suffering
from excess cholesterol,

like Stourley.

No, no.
There's no excess fat on it, or me.

(CLEARS THROAT)
The both of us have been built

with perfect
and enviable centres of gravity.

- Standing up?
- No, Signora Speckler, lying down.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Dear, how long
have you been married to him?

- Seven years.
- Oh!

Why? Do you think that's too long?

KRACKLITE: God, I think
I've lost my English one-pound note.

MAN: Come on,
you can easily get another.

KRACKLITE: No. No, you can't.
They're dropping out of circulation.

My father's wedding present

was another commission for Kracklite,

to build us a house.

You should see it.

Two marble cubes
and a brick sphere on stilts.

(LAUGHS)

Boullée would have loved it.

What do you think
of our foreign architect?

He's too old for his wife.

I think she's looking
for a romantic experience.

How can you tell?

The way she eats cake.

(BELLS CHIMING)

Just about this time,
if I'm near the Pantheon,

I come and admire
such a great work of architecture.

As solid as it is beautiful.

As romantic as it is awesome.

Built by Hadrian, the most accomplished
of all the Emperors.

Hmm, good architecture
should always be applauded.

Bravissimo!

I notice Caspasian
wears a double-breasted suit.

So?

He wears a matching tie bar
and cuff links.

I wouldn't be surprised
if he wore a gold chain around his neck.

- Do you want me to find out?
-(CHUCKLES) Oh...

Well, would you want to find out?

It's not important.

What is important?

To be gracious to the Specklers.

- They have a lot of influence.
- Mmm.

- They have a lot of charm.
- Don't they?

Especially Caspasian.

Especially? Are you jealous?

Of his charm? No.

His gold chain? (SCOFFS)
Absolutely not.

Of his youth...

(SIGHS)

Of his youth and his waistline, maybe.

Of his ability as an architect?

(CHUCKLES) No, that least of all.

I'm sure Mr Caspasian
is devoid of talent.

(LAUGHS) Oh!

(KRACKLITE GRUNTING)

Mmm.

(WATER RUNNING)

(KRACKLITE GROANING)

Hey,

tell me, please, what does "Oh!" mean?

Stourley, you've built
six-and-a-half buildings.

And now you're spending
nine months putting on an exhibition

in memory of another architect
who also built practically nothing.

-(GROANING)
- And I don't..

What? What's the matter?

- I don't know.
- What?

(SIGHS)

-(EXHALING) Indigestion.
<(TUTS)

You eat too much.

Well,

nothing a little sympathy wouldn't cure.

Oh! (GIGGLES)

(LAUGHS)

What's this? Twice in one day?

Mmm.

What about Boullée, huh?

(BOTH LAUGH)

Now, he built virtually nothing

and look at his reputation.

Yeah. Yeah, look at it.

Nobody knows about him but you.

You think that
they'll give you an exhibition

180 years after your death?

Death? Who's talking about death?

Doesn't everyone in Rome
talk about death?

Mm..

(EXCLAIMS)

What?
- Oh!

What's the matter?

(STUTTERING) Wait. Wait. Wait.

- What?
- No, no, nol

(GROANING)

No, it's all right, it's all right,
it's all right, it's all right.

My stomach.

Oh.

(EXHALES)

Well, it serves you right.

Ooh!

You're always stuffing yourself.

(GROANING)

-(SIGHING)
- Don't start what you can't finish.

(GASPS)

Romans are very equivocal
about this building.

They call it the Typewriter
or the Wedding Cake.

It's like a box at the theatre
at which Rome is the play.

Over there, you can see the Colosseum.

There, Michelangelo's dome
of San Pietro.

And over there, you can just see

Borromini's Church
of Sant'Agnese in Piazza Navona.

KRACKLITE: Where is the tomb
of Augustus from here?

Difficult to see
from here, Signor Kracklite.

But undoubtedly there.

(LAUGHS)

Signor Kracklite,
let me introduce to you

Signor Antonio Caspetti,
banker with the Scuta d'Oro.

Signor Caspetti
is our most important benefactor.

We couldn't manage
this exhibition without him.

And after its undoubted success,

can I hope to consider
areturn exhibition in Chicago?

Perhaps on
the Italian architect Piranesi.

Signor Caspetti
is a great authority on Piranesi.

(CASPETTI LAUGHS)

I wonder if Kracklite realises

that his hero
is not that well-known in Italy.

Boullée is not that well-known anywhere.

In Texas, Kracklite was accused
of inventing him.

Or perhaps Boullée
is the ideal architect

for your husband to invent.

However, thanks to him,

we have nearly $1 million
to persuade the Italian public

that Boullée is not a fiction.

That's a lot of money.

Ah, it's expensive to put on
a large art exhibition in Rome.

CASPETTI: I remember, Signor Kracklite,
coming across a drawing by Boullée

when I was 10 years old.

It reminded me, I must admit, of Hell.

No doubt it was a childish idea,

but it hasn't entirely left me.

KRACKLITE: I discovered Boullée about
the same age as you, Signor Caspetti.

I must confess his designs
have always reminded me of Heaven.

You hold the purse strings
of my husband's exhibition?

Well, not entirely, but almost.

(LAUGHS) You're very young
to be entrusted with so much money.

And you're very young to be entrusted
with such an elderly husband.

(BOTH LAUGH)

Excuse me.

CASPETTI: There is a story
that the architect of this building

spent all the money on the marble.

- KRACKLITE: Huh.
- He didn't like wood.

And he skimped on the carpentry.

The real reason was that
he hated carpenters, especially Joseph.

I suspect that he didn't believe
in the virgin birth.

And he could not reconcile himself

to the fact Joseph was 40
and the Virgin Mary was 14.

About the same difference
as you and your wife,

isn't it, Mr Kracklite?

Approximately, yes.

But I thought that all Catholics
believed in the virgin birth.

Not outside of marriage.

(LAUGHS)

Do you believe
in the virgin birth, Mr Kracklite?

Oh, at this moment, Signor Caspetti,
I'll settle for any kind of birth.

I've had several miscarriages.

Kracklite gets bored or impatient
or disillusioned with his projects,

and I get anxious.

We could both be accused
of unsatisfactory delivery.

Christ!

Did you see that?

(GLASS CLATTERING)

(MAN MOANING)

Now watch this.

Kracklite is going to be honoured
by Roman publicity.

Who is this man?

May I introduce to you
Signor Salvatore Battisting,

the Secretary
of the Society of Historical Buildings.

And an expert on nightclubs.

May 1?7 Galatretterio.

Dr Galatretterio is an expert
on the diseases of the ancient world.

Are you a modern architect,
Mr Kracklite?

No more modern than I should be.

(PEOPLE LAUGHING)

No more modern than Boullée,
would you say?

Replicas of whose buildings now appear

in every authoritarian capital
in the world.

Moscow, Peking, East Berlin.

And Rome, Signorina Speckler?

Are you saying Boullée
was the first Fascist architect?

Ask my brother.

Do you think Mussolini admired Boullée?

Albert Speer did,
and Speer was Hitler's architect.

Augustus would have
admired Boullée.

Go to Via Ripetta. Look at his tomb.

Don't encourage him, please.

Augustus' wife chose it.

But first she made sure
he would fit inside it,

after all the trouble she had taken.

Trouble? What trouble?

Poison.

You see, Augustus felt this dryness
at the back of his throat

and then a cold shiver
across his shoulders.

Apain. (GROANS)

Like a poker in the small of his back.
A desire to vomit.

It was obviously poison.

His neck became stiff,
his ears began to sing,

his eyes to flutter.

The buttons popped off his jacket...

- Jacket? Are you sure?
- Yes.

Caspasian believes
everyone of substance wears a suit.

And a gallon of yellow bile
erupted from his mouth...

(VOMITING)

Ugh!

Oh, Caspasian!

CASPASIAN: Oh, sorry, Flavia.
It was just a history lesson.

For foreigners.

(SIGHING)

(MOANS)

(SPITTING)

(COUGHING)

Signor Battistino. You all right?

Of course he's all right.

(CASPASIAN SPEAKING ITALIAN)

(BATTISTINO SPEAKING ITALIAN)

It sounded like he was dying
just a few minutes ago.

Ah, well,
an exhibition like this in Rome

about an obscure French architect
organised by American architect

needs all the publicity it can get.

Wouldn't you say?

Stourley.

Louisa.

Louisa, I'm gonna go back
to the apartment.

I've got some work to do.

Why don't you go sight-seeing?
The Specklers can take you.

God, Stourley! Why don't you take me?

Louisa, please, go with the Specklers.
I'll talk to you later.

Say goodbye for me, okay?

Anything for Boullée.

(VIOLIN PLAYING)

(MAN SPEAKS ITALIAN)

- Beg your pardon?
- It is closed.

MAN: There is nothing much
inside anyway.

(CAMERA CLICKS)

KRACKLITE: This...
This is the tomb of Augustus?

MAN: Yes, but he is not at home.

KRACKLITE: Louisa, do you like figs?
LOUISA: Yes.

Louisa,

I want you to eat a fig for me.

- Not now.
- Why not now?

Because it's late and I'm sleeping.

Oh, come on.

Come on. Come on, just eat...

Just eat a fig for me. You can have
a little wine afterwards. Come on.

- Why?
- Come on.

Come on, do it for me.

- Stop it.
- Take a big bite out of it.

- No, I don't want one.
- Come on, eat the fig.

Eat the fig! Eat the fig!
God damn it. Eat it!

You're hurting me!

(GAGGING)

Why did you do that?

Okay. All right, I see.

What do you see?

You say you like figs,
but you never touch them, do you? Never.

What is this about?

I just wanted to see
what happened to you

if you ate one of those figs,
that's all.

Don't stand there like that.
You'll catch your death of cold.

Get back into bed.

Figs.

(LOUISA MUMBLING)

They are... They are some kind
of aphrodisiac, right? Is that...

- All right, just forget it!
- No, I'm not gonna forget it.

You come on like a madman
and then you tell me to forget it.

What...
What's wrong with you?

I just wanted to see
if you're as frightened

of eating those figs as I am.
That's all. Are you scared?

Come on, are you scared
to eat those figs? Are you?

Answer me.
Are you frightened to eat those figs?

Answer me!

Why should I be frightened?

I think you ought to see a doctor.

(DOOR CLOSES)

(SIGHS)

KRACKLITE: Monday, May 20th.

Monsieur Boullée,

! hope you don't mind me
writing to you like this.

! feel I know you well enough
to talk to you.

I think my wife is poisoning me.

You can laugh, but I'm serious.

I'm sure it's part of her

general animosity towards you.

Yours with respect, Stourley Kracklite.

Architect.

If you are being poisoned,
you would know it.

What are your symptoms?

I've made some notes.

DOCTOR: The stomach of Augustus.

Do you have such an heroic abdomen?

Take off your shirt.

Where does it ache?

Right about here.

(KRACKLITE SIGHS)

Breathe deeply.

(INHALING)

(EXHALING)

Where did you eat your figs?

At a restaurant opposite the Pantheon.

Ah, a fine building.

- Are you married?
- Yes.

Is your wife Italian?

Her parents were Italian, yes.
From Umbria.

Ah, a fine fig-growing area.

Do you sleep well at night?

I did before I got to Rome.

Mr Architect, I can assure you
that you are not being poisoned.

I would suggest that
you are suffering from dyspepsia,

fatigue, over-excitement,

excess and unfamiliar food,

lack of exercise, too much coffee,

and maybe also too much egotism.

Take... Take these

and obey the instructions.

Is Augustus a hero of yours, Doctor?

Not particularly. He amuses me.

Are you easily amused?

What frame of mind
better suits a doctor?

CASPASIAN: Where is Kracklite now?

LOUISA: Oh, I don't know.
Out marching around Rome somewhere.

He's out when I wake up
and he's asleep when I come in.

CASPASIAN: What are these?

Oh, something for the exhibition.

No, no, no. Look at this.

What is he doing?

- Does he think he's Augustus?
- No. He thinks he's Boullée.

He's obsessed with his stomach.

(LOUISA SIGHS)

Maybe he thinks
he's going to have a baby.

When are you going to have a baby?

You could have waited for me downstairs.

You would look very beautiful pregnant.

(LOUISA LAUGHS)

CASPASIAN: If I may say so,

since you've been in Rome,
you've put on a little weight.

If you became pregnant,
you would put on even more here.

LOUISA: You seem to know a lot about it.

CASPASIAN: And here.

LOUISA: What, you take night classes
in obstetrics?

Well, architects ought to know
about everything.

Reproduction, gender, sex.

Especially sex.

(LAUGHS)

Form, shape,

function, elegance...

- Proportionally strong.
- Mmm-hmm.

- Enduring.
- Mmm-hmm.

- Reliable.
- Mmm-hmm.

And cost-effective.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

You're talking to an architect's wife.

I wish I was talking
to an architect's mistress.

Oh, God, Caspasian!

Kracklite was never that forward.

- He was never that talented.
- Or that arrogant.

Still, you've taken your time.

I've been here for 10 weeks.

I would have thought,
with your reputation,

you would have made a move before now.

Well, maybe I was waiting
for a sign from you.

What kind of sign?

Putting on a little more weight,

becoming more Roman.

I've guessed.

What?

It's all right.

Have you told Kracklite?

No.

- I haven't.
- Why not?

If you could guess that I was pregnant,
why couldn't he?

KRACKLITE: July 31st. Dear Boullée,

well, the Italians are catching on
at last.

They're actually beginning to like you,

though it doesn't seem
to make them work any faster.

Caspasian has already
spent 400 million lire.

There seems to be
very little to show for it.

Careful.

If we intend to open on your birthday,
as we must,

we have barely six months to go. Six.

Six months.

- KRACKLITE: Why? Why is it so difficult?
- Difficult?

KRACKLITE: Well, everything
has got to be debated,

or qualified, or contradicted.

They're not difficult.
You have them excited.

This is the first time
the Victor Emmanuel Building

is being used for an exhibition.

- You ought to be grateful.
- KRACKLITE: Grateful. Huh!

Where is Caspasian? He should be here.

- Caspasian's out buying.
- Buying what?

He's having the staircase repainted.

He's ordered 2,000 litres
of blue matte emulsion

and the same of green.

KRACKLITE: Blue and green?
No, no, no, no.

There's gonna be no blue and no green
in my exhibition.

- Boullée hated those colours.
- How did you discover that?

Caspasian's found
$25,000 worth of laser equipment.

What the hell for?

He's got a plan to use laser beams

to join all the buildings in Rome
that influenced Boullée.

Jesus Christ!

He's turning this exhibition
into a goddamn carnival.

He's got no business doing that.

- Don't you think it's a good idea?
- Good idea?

All right. What's the scale?

It's what you asked for.

- Is it centimetres or inches?
- Centimetres.

No self-respecting architect
uses inches.

Did Boullée use inches?

He used Boullées.

How long are they?

The distance from the nose to the navel.

His buildings were based
on human anatomy.

He certainly wasn't a prude.

Are you a prude, Signor Kracklite?

Ask my wife.

Ask your son to ask his wife.

Owl

(SPEAKS ITALIAN)

Why did you do that?

To prove, if proof were needed,
that you bleed very easily.

No more, no less.

He deserved it,
but it was an unwise show of anger.

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

CASPASIAN: It is said that Hadrian,
the man who built all this,

was a man who suffered
from skin disease,

and who needed to keep his skin wet

to stop him from scratching himself
to pieces.

Hence the baths.

Oh, Caspasian, you are talking about
Caracalla. Hadrian was a genius,

Caracalla merely a thug.

Here at the Villa Adriana,

Hadrian created modern architecture.

It is not unlikely
we are sitting in the seventh tepidarium

in four foot and six inches...

Of tepid and most probably dirty water.

It almost certainly would not meet
our contemporary hygiene standards.

I think it looks better as a ruin.

Rome in ruins has had more influence
on architecture

than it ever would brand-new.

What you can't see, you can imagine.

Huh, sounds like a woman
with clothes on.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Oh.

- Watch out, it might be rabid.
- Nah, don't get hysterical.

It certainly looks ill.

KRACKLITE: Tuesday, August 6th.
Dear Etienne-Louis Boullée,

the pains are returning,
and ! can't eat without vomiting.

FLAVIA: It ought to be shot.

KRACKLITE: Would you shoot
anything that looks sick?

FLAVIA: What now, Kracklite?

- Are you looking for sympathy?
- Ah, shut up.

If you breathe in and press your finger
just to the right of your navel,

can you feel a hard lump?

Some days it's spherical,
some days it feels like a cube.

Most days it feels like
a sharp-cornered pyramid.

(VOMITING)

Did the Pharaohs suffer
from stomach cramps?

The Emperor Hadrian
died of a perforated uicer.

(LAUGHTER)

When you're 54, and grateful
for being able to sleep at night,

eat badly, and pee like a fire engine,

what do you do if you suspect your wife
no longer cares for your company?

I'm sorry, Etienne.

Since you never had a wife,
it was never your problem.

(CASPASIAN LAUGHING)

(WATER SPLASHING)

(COUGHING)

LOUISA: All right, Kracklite,
what are you doing?

(GROANS)

I'm drowning.

I'm drowning.

(WATER GURGLING)

(GROANS)

(COUGHING)

It's no good.

It's no good.

Your body just won't let you do it!

Nobody ever died
by voluntarily ceasing to breathe.

Because if you managed to
stop breathing, you'd fall unconscious,

and then your goddamn body
starts to breathe again.

Well, since you're in the bath,

why not try slitting your wrists?

KRACKLITE:
That is very appropriate for Rome.

Well, you'll have to wait a minute
because I'm using your razor.

Livia was very hairy, too.

Who's Livia?

Augustus' wife.

(SIGHS)

How do you know she was hairy?

She left hair in the bath.

It's in Caesar's Gallic Wars
in Book Five.

- She tried to kill her husband.
- With his razor?

KRACKLITE: No, with figs. Poisoned figs.

Augustus fell for it, too.

At least, according to Robert Graves.

Who's he? Another architect?

(LAUGHING)

No, no, no, no.
Robert Graves is a mortuary attendant.

Oh.

- Where are you going?
- Out to dinner.

Caspasian and Flavia have invited me.

Why didn't they ask me?

You can come, if you like.

KRACKLITE:
They didn't ask me personally.

I expect it's because
you're so fussy about your food.

Caspasian can't stand vegetarians.

All fascists are meat-eaters.

Hal

- That's funny.
- Why, what's funny?

(LAUGHS)

Because that's what he said about you.

What, that I'm a fascist?
(SCOFFS)

Oh, that's ironic, coming from him.

Wow! Wow, Wow, WOwW, WOW, WOW.
You look good. You look very good.

In fact, you look so good,
I wouldn't be surprised

if you were going out
with Caspasian alone.

He's entertaining.

Hmm. So I've noticed.

What's that supposed to mean?

I watched the two of you together
at the baths in Villa Adriana.

Don't worry, don't worry.
The location was very appropriate.

You were continuing a tradition
of 1,600 years.

The baths have always attracted
whores and prostitutes.

I'm pregnant.

You're what?

Are you sure?

Don't look so surprised. It's yours.

(KRACKLITE EXHALES)

When did it happen?

Stourley, how could
you not have noticed?

Must have been on the train to Rome.

- But that was two months ago.
- Closer to three.

You've hardly been near me since.

Boullée and your stomach-aches
are more important.

Are you sure this time?

Yes.

(LAUGHS)

Which side of the border?

What?

(LAUGHS)

Oh. Huh!

I think it was the Italian side,

but I'm not exactly sure
how fast the train was going.

KRACKLITE: Wednesday, August 7th.
Dear Etienne-Louis,

apparently I'm to be a father.

Were you ever a father?

(BELLS CHIMING)

If your wife is unfaithful,

how can you ever be sure
that the child is really yours?

My belly aches again.

{ eat only fruit, given up meat.

Is that wise?

With regards, Stourley Kracklite.

You think he's here for
the architecture or for the religion?

What does his wife think?

(SCOFFS)

She does not think.

She's American.

(LAUGHS)

He's learning.

(YELPS)

(GROANS)

There you are. Twenty million lire.

Officially, it's been credited
to catering expenses. Bank it.

We'll be able to make another deposit
in one month.

Kracklite will never know.

Boullée will be doing us a service.

When talking of Boullée,
look what I found.

Very Signor Kracklite.

(MAN LAUGHS)
It's even got his paunch.

CASPASIAN: Mmm-hmm,
I'm sure you can sell it to him

as a fair likeness of his hero.

And now, I have my assignation
with a lady who eats cake.

Will you see me out?

(GLASS CLANKING)

(SIGHS)

What are you doing, Kracklite?

Wandering what you're doing

with a briefcase
full of American dollars.

It's to pay for the models.

I could get those models
for half the price in Chicago.

Speaking of models,

what's happened to the model
of the Boullée lighthouse?

It was supposed to be ready
three weeks ago.

Caspasian has taken it
to your apartment.

Look, he's asked me to give you this.

It's Boullée.

KRACKLITE: Boullée.
What makes you think it's Boullée?

There are no likenesses of Boullée.

I should know. I've been
searching for one for 10 years.

If anything,
this looks suspiciously like Piranesi.

The inscription is French
and the date is correct.

Caspasian found it
at the Bibliothéque nationale.

That doesn't prove it's Boullée.

FLAVIA: What doesn't prove it's Boullée?

His picture hanging in
the Bibliothéque nationale.

Good evening, gentlemen.
Working late?

FLAVIA: We meet again, Stourley.

This time in the gentlemen's toilet.

Let me have a look.

Hmm.

He's wearing a toga romana
and, I do believe, lace-up shoes.

And by the expression on his face,

it looks like his shoes
are pinching his feet.

No, no. He's just eaten something nasty.

I'm afraid it's worse than that.

- FLAVIA: Hmm, disease of the pancreas.
- Pancreatic carcinoma.

Boullée died of cancer?

How do you know that?

FLAVIA: Don't be stupid. We are joking.

- I'll give you a lift.
- Okay.

- Ciao.
- Ciao.

- What have you still got to do?
-(KRACKLITE SIGHS)

The research materials for
the catalogue haven't been finished yet.

The proofs are due at the printer's
next Tuesday.

There are still major problems
with the colour reproduction.

The main gallery hasn't been started
due to the hold-up on the Newton model.

And of course we have to
pay the electricians to stand by,

otherwise we'll lose them.

Do you feel any better?

No.

They tell me it's... It's constipation.

But it's gone on far too long
for it to be just that.

- We could delay the opening date.
- No, that's just what we cannot do.

Then offload
some of your responsibility.

Give it to Caspasian.

He can take care
of the details for a few weeks.

Yeah, that's just what I'm afraid of.

He's capable enough.

No.

Caspasian has taken over
too much of my life already.

Do you mind if I ask you
a personal question?

Goon.

- Why did you divorce your wife?
-(LAUGHING)

Jealousy.

I suspected her of having an affair.

And were your suspicions well-founded?

Oh,

I thought so at the time.
Now I'm not so sure.

I think, in fact,

that the man was after my daughter,
Flavia, not my wife.

But the damage was done.

Too much had been said,
too much vengeance taken.

Look, Kracklite,
if you won't take time off,

at least come to the baths.

It'll do you good.

KRACKLITE:
When things slacken off later.

Now I just want to go home
and try to sleep.

(SIGHING)

Hello, Joe.

(KRACKLITE COUGHS)

(LOUISA LAUGHING)

(LOUISA MOANS)

No, no.

(CASPASIAN LAUGHING)

(CASPASIAN BARKING)

(LOUISA LAUGHING)

(GRUNTS)

(QUACKING AND LAUGHING)

(LOUISA LAUGHING)

(LOUISA MOANING)

(SPEAKING ITALIAN)

(SPEAKING ITALIAN)

Why are you crying?

(KRACKLITE SIGHS)

I'm crying because there's a draught
through the keyhole.

It hits me in the eye.

(WOMAN SPEAKING ITALIAN)

He's got a draught in his eye.

(BOTH SPEAKING ITALIAN)

(LOUISA YELLING)

(CASPASIAN GRUNTING)

Shh, shh, shh. Shh.

(LOUISA MOANING)

(LOUISA WHIMPERING)

(PANTING)

(BOTH MOANING)

(MOANING CONTINUES)

KRACKLITE: Thursday, August 22nd.

Dear Etienne-Louis,

! wonder why you never came to Rome?

Did travelliing make you ill?

Were you suspicious of foreigners?

Did you ever eat an orange?

(JUICE TRICKLING)

Did you even know what vitamin C was?

It's supposed to make you healthy.

(SOFT HAMMERING)

(SPEAKS ITALIAN)

I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian.

Mind if I watch?

(BEE BUZZING)

Etienne-Louis,

what was the current stomach complaint
when you were alive?

Gallstones? Kidney stones? Appendicitis?

Pancreatic carcinoma?

KRACKLITE: Ah.

(COUGHS)

Signor Kracklite, do you dream?

Yes.

What do you dream of?

Lately, stairs.

I'm always climbing stairs.

Or falling down stairs.

A sure sign of dyspepsia.

No, I don't believe that any more.

Then what do you believe?

(SIGHS)

Boullée died of cancer.

Your respect for the man, Kracklite,

does not imply
that you have to suffer his injuries.

Monsieur Boullée
was a French hypochondriac.

- Did you know that?
- No.

He was a little lame.
Are you a little lame?

No.

He suffered from gout.

He was afraid of thunderstorms.

They made him incontinent.

You seem very well-informed.

Why do you think he built so little?

Why do you think he travelled so little?

His illness incapacitated him.

He stayed at home
for fear of embarrassment abroad.

Look, Kracklite,

I can't examine you here.

But if you are worried,

I can make an appointment for you
with my cousin for next week.

He's a stomach specialist.

He specialises in the guts of priests.

Did you know that the average
human intestine is 27 feet long,

but the guts of a priest
are three feet longer?

On account of
the indigestible consecrated host?

No, no. Much simpler.

"The lord moves in mysterious ways,

"his duties to perform."

(LAUGHING)

(LOUISA LAUGHING)

CASPASIAN:
I think you look beautiful pregnant.

- Like I said you would.
- Mmm.

- My sister wants to photograph you.
- What for?

For her, for you,

for me.

LOUISA: And for Kracklite?

CASPASIAN: Perhaps.

- Would you like to do it?
- No.

- Why not?
- Your sister worries me.

She's even more predatory than you are.

- Really?
- I think she's a hermaphrodite.

I can assure you that she is not.

How do you know?

She is my sister.

- We used to, uh, bath together.
- That was a long time ago.

CASPASIAN: Is last Tuesday
a long time ago?

What?

(CASPASIAN LAUGHING)

I was joking.

Eighteen.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-four.

Twenty-seven.

Thirty.

KRACKLITE: Friday, January 10th.
Dear Etienne-Louis,

don't like doctors.

They always see you at a disadvantage.

When they've studied your private parts,

smelled your breath,
fingered your tongue,

how can you talk with them as an equal?

DOCTOR: Signor Kracklite,

are you ready?

Now, Signor Kracklite,
would you lie on your left side, please?

And bend your knees.

I trust you know what we intend doing?

It will be
a little uncomfortable at first,

but with the help of the anaesthetic,
you will feel very little.

We intend examining
your intestine with a probe.

With an optical light source,

we'll take a small television camera
into your large intestine,

and take live pictures that will
appear on a television monitor.

This will allow us
to search for any irregularities.

We will then make our full report
and ask you to come back.

(SPEAKS ITALIAN)

I wish I could take Kracklite's baby out

and put mine in its place.

LOUISA: Mmm.

What difference would that make?

It would still be the child
of an architect.

Yes, but at least with me,
it would not be posthumously.

Meaning?

The way Kracklite is going,
he won't last till summer.

FLAVIA: Tell me, Kracklite,
why don't you photograph women?

Different metabolism, different organs,

different complaints.

Have you eaten?

Well, if you buy me a meal,

I'll take the photos for you.

Are you interested just in the cocks?

No, I'm interested just in the bellies.

A new erogenous zone?

(MOANS)

FLAVIA: It's been noticed
that you steal postcards.

KRACKLITE: Postcards are part of
a city's publicity campaign.

I am just helping
to distribute the advertisements.

(FLAVIA LAUGHS)

This is an expensive camera.

- It's a get-well present.
- Who gave it to you?

I gave it to myself.

Caspasian always said
you were a generous man.

Well, Caspasian would know.

(CAMERA CLICKS)

You look like a tired old man
wha's just come up out of the sea.

Well, I've tried a little drowning.

Let's try a little more.

Come into my studio.

I'll process your film
while you take a shower.

And we'll see which comes out
of the bath the more developed.

(CAMERA CLICKING)

FLAVIA: When I first saw you, Stourley,
at the Pantheon dinner eight months ago,

you reminded me of this painting.

Andrea Doria.

He had a belly,
and wasn't shy about showing it.

He always fascinated me.

And you, Stourley,
have proved to be just as fascinating.

I can't paint.

But I can take a photograph.

(CLEARS THROAT)

(CAMERA CLICKING)

CASPASIAN: Well.

Well, well, well.

(CASPASIAN LAUGHS)

You have now made it plain that, uh,

what is good for the goose,
is good for the philanderer.

An English proverb, uh?

Philanderer?
That's very funny coming from you.

Your wife is very beautiful,
Signor Kracklite,

especially when she is pregnant.

Yes, that's right. She is pregnant.

But not with your child, Speckler.

True. I'm very grateful to you for that.

Your child, shall we say

is the most perfect contraceptive.

(GRUNTS)

Don't get your blood on my white towel.

Well, Kracklite,
I take it that you will now give Louisa

as much freedom
as you've taken yourself.

One hardly can give
what has already been taken, Speckler.

Nonetheless, I'm sure
you don't want her to know.

(KRACKLITE SCOFFS)

Oh.

There are enough stomachs here
to have many ilinesses.

What about the ones in the camera?

(LAUGHING)

Well?

So how is the exhibition
progressing, Kracklite?

Are you still in full control of things?

Don't you think you should
hand over the reins to somebody else?

KRACKLITE: Oh, is...
Is that what this is?

This is a setup?
You're trying to blackmail me?

You really think I would turn over
the Boullée exhibition to you

just to keep my wife from knowing
I tried to screw your sister?

Thank you, Stourley, for the compliment.

But don't worry.

Caspasian is always
overreaching himself.

If you want a really serious quarrel,
I'm sorry,

but there is no film in the camera.

(LAUGHS)

Well, we've done it.
Kracklite is finished.

He's looking a mess. He's grotesque.

Tretterio says
he won't last till August.

And I've got another 16 million
from the publicity account.

And the catalogue will never be finished

because Kracklite says
he wants it all in colour.

"My architect Boullée
knew more about colour

"than Leonardo da Vinci."

"And more about publicity
than Michelangelo Buonarroti."

CASPASIAN: "And more about
making love than Casanova."

Kracklite, we've got to see you.

The bank has stopped the cash flow.

It looks as though
the bankers have found out

that you are a sick man.

They want you
to have a medical examination.

KRACKLITE: I'm not a sick man!

I just had one.

Caspetti has asked

that Caspasian should be made
the director of the exhibition.

KRACKLITE: He what?

He thinks
that the exhibition is too academic.

He thinks you've got
too many domestic problems.

KRACKLITE: What the hell
has that got to do with anything?

He thinks that Caspasian
will give the exhibition

a more Roman and optimistic bias.

Optimistic.
Is that what the laser beams are for?

Caspasian's optimism?

Over my dead body!

Not a bad prognosis.

What was that? What?

I'm just as healthy as you are.

Stourley, you know that's not true.

Are you going to punch me
on the nose again?

Your friend, Caspetti,

he was against Boullée
right from the start.

Said he reminded him of hell.
I'll give him hell. I'll give him hell.

Kracklite,

I'm afraid
that they've put up an ultimatum.

We need another 300 million lire.

But the bank thinks you are unreliable.

You have to resign
if you want the exhibition to go on.

We can't let it collapse now.

You're damn right we can't.

Let Caspetti believe
Caspasian is in charge.

No!

No, I can't do that.

Stourley, I don't think
we have a choice.

Look, I'll think of something.

Don't be absurd. We open in 12 days.

KRACKLITE:
Where the hell is Caspasian anyway?

He should be here to deal with this.

He's the one who's been
spending all the goddamn money.

Yeah, he's been behind this all along.
That bastard son of yours.

He's determined to get his hands
on this exhibition right from the start.

- Where is he?
- He's not here. He's out.

He's out? He's out where?

Raising funds.

Raising funds.

I'll bet he's not
raising funds for Boullée.

- You're right.
- Oh? Then what for?

Some restoration work.

Where? Doing what?

Restoring Mussolini's Foro ltalica.

Ha-hal

Oh, so that's where
all the money has been going, eh?

Hmm?

I've been subsidising
that goddamn fascist playground!

Kracklite, you can't say that.

And you certainly couldn't prove it.

Anyway...

don't you think Boullée
would have been the first to applaud

such a visionary piece
of architectural theatre?

Why isn't Caspasian
raising money for Boullée?

(GROANS)

Look. Take a look.

If they could do it to Battistino,

he's one of their own,
they could do it to me.

And I'm not faking.

So you admit you're ill?

[II?

Christ, I'm sick as a dog.

(GLASS SHATTERING)

But I'm still tough enough
to take you on.

And Pastarril And Caspetti!

And Caspasian, and all the rest of you.

I'll get that money.

I'll get that goddamn money,
if I have to steal it.

(MUMBLING)

- Where the hell have you been?
- Oh, wouldn't you like to know?

(SCOFFS) As if you cared.

That's all right,
we'll keep it all in the family.

What is that supposed to mean?

It means, Stourley,
that we've seen the same doctor

and the same photographer, haven't we?

And not with the same complaint.

Though you might as well.
Your stomach's almost as big as mine.

I made some decisions.

LOUISA: Oh.

I'm gonna mortgage the house in Chicago.

Oh, really? What for?

It's my house.

You built it for me, don't you remember?

With its wide-open, draughty spaces,

and its rounded corners
where you can't fit any furniture.

I'm gonna change
the beneficiaries of the trust fund.

Oh, no, you don't.

I need $200,000 right away.

Caspasian could get that sort of money
by snapping his fingers.

Snapping his fingers?

Snapping his fingers?
I'd like to snap his neck.

He's... He's snapped you up
very quickly, hasn't he?

Well, he's not gonna
snap up my exhibition.

I'll tell you something else.

- I'm gonna change my will.
- What will?

I refuse to let my exhibition
slip through my fingers

if it's the last thing I ever do.

And it will be,
the way that you're going.

You're not gonna ruin my child's future

for the sake of another
unfinished Kracklite fiasco.

Our child! Our child!

Or do you even care
who the father is?

- No!
- No. No, of course not!

I'll tell you something else.
Qur child is gonna be born in America.

He is?

As soon as this exhibition is opened,

we're going home.

Oh, we are?

I like the idea of him
being born in Italy.

I'think I'll call him Luigi.

Oh, I was sure
you were gonna call him Caspasian.

What makes you think it's a boy?

By the shape of my stomach

that you haven't even looked at
in the last four months.

And who told you that?
Let me see if I can guess.

That great medical architect,
Caspasian Speckler.

- As a matter of fact, his sister.
- Oh, oh, oh, his sister?

All the Specklers
have studied gynaecology, uh?

Stourley, you're the one with
the obsessional interest in stomachs.

Masculine stomachs.

Are you going off women completely,
Kracklite?

Well, if you have, here's something
to remind you what they look like!

This is awful.

- These are obscene!
- Are they?

Jesus, displaying yourself like this!

It's for art, Kracklite.

Everything's permissible for art.

Look at our marriage.

Art first, Kracklite second,
and the rest a long way down the line.

That's my child in here.

Oh, right.
That's the heart of the matter.

Do you really think
you have the right to feel prostituted?

Look, I'm due in a month,
the exhibition opens in 12 days,

and you're unreliable.

I have no intention
of losing this child,

or of dropping it too soon.

And I'd like it to have a future.

I'm moving out.

Where are you going?

As if it's any of your business,
which I doubt,

I'm going to stay with Caspasian.

He'll take care of me
until after the baby is born.

After that, I don't know.

Please, don't leave me now. Please.

It's too late for that, Stourley.

I said...

I just don't need you any more.

(DOOR CLOSING)

Whatever the results
of the medical examinations,

everyone feels that
you can do no more for Boullée.

He's in safe hands.

I'm sorry, Kracklite. Very sorry.

But, uh, you've got to accept
that you've lost.

The exhibition is not yours any more.

You've got to retire.

Gracefully.

Of course, we would like you
to open the exhibition.

And then you must leave the running
of the exhibition to Caspasian.

To us.

After the opening,
why don't you go back to Chicago

and take a well-deserved rest?

Shall I wait for you?

KRACKLITE: Monday, February 10th.

Dear Etienne-Louis...

(BOTH TALKING INDISTINCTLY)

Well, it's no good, Etienne.
{'ve been fired.

{'ve been kicked out of the exhibition

! spent the fast 10 years
of my life planning.

It's Caspasian's fault.

He's run off with my wife, my child,

our exhibition.

But I've got an idea!

Suppose you came to open the exhibition.

Why don't you come and open it with me?

How about that? That would show them.

MAN: Signor Kracklite.

You could stay in my apartment.

Louisa's not there any more.
I don't sleep too well,

but I'm sure we could manage.

Yours with respect.

Stourley Kracklite.

Architect.

DOCTOR: Galba.

He was a miserable sort of man.
Bisexual, fancied mature slaves.

Especially if they had
been a little mutilated.

All his freed men
had no fingers on their left hand.

He's dead. Died screaming.

Titus.

Started off well enough.
Soon became greedy.

Disembowelled on the Tiber steps.

He's dead. Died screaming.

Hadrian.

As you know,
an architect of some repute.

He put a lot of faith in stones.

He died peacefully,
planning a temple to wisdom.

Still, he's dead.

Nero. It's best not
to talk about him, huh?

He caused untold damage, burnt Rome.

He deserved to die.

He died screaming in a summerhouse.

And he's unknown. No name.

Still, he looks serene enough.

Let's suppose he was you.

Same fleshy face. What happened to him?

How did he die?

He died alone at noon,

in a parked car
on Lakeshore Drive in Chicago.

Stock-market report
playing on the car radio.

He had shaved off his beard,

he was wearing an English suit,

and Italian shoes.

- Is that what you want?
- Is that what I want?

No, no.

No, he died much later, aged 71.
Same age as Boullée.

He was sitting in a garden
at 4:00 in the afternoon

facing south.

Somewhere near Rome.

Near the sound of water.

His six-year-old grandson
playing in the gravel.

His wife...

(LAUGHS)

His second wife

picking orange blossoms.

A little sentimental, no?

Oh, what the hell, when you're 71,
you can afford a little sentiment.

Far from home?

Home?

Well, home should be
no particular problem.

A sort of late spring death?

A late spring?

How far into late spring?

Maybe last week of May.

The first week of June.

June.

June.

June.

Well...

tell me, Doctor, do you...

You take this trouble
with all your patients?

I must admit, it's not the first time.

Though, in another case,

the details may not be
quite so architectural.

Still, you must admit,
there is some comfort to be had

in contemplating the folly
of so many dead, don't you think?

And more comfort still
in contemplating the continuity.

Thank you.

(KRACKLITE GROANING)

(DISHES SHATTERING)

Sorry.

(LAUGHING)

(KRACKLITE SPEAKING ITALIAN)

There's not much elbow room here.

What happened to this place?

Where is my sign?

Where is my sign?

Here you are.

- You all right?
- No, no, no, no.

No, I wouldn't... I wouldn't eat...

I wouldn't eat those figs
if I were you, lady.

Now, see, see...

They're aphrodisiacs.

You don't look like
you're up to it to me, I'm sorry.

Okay, I'm sorry.

(SPEAKING ITALIAN)

What are you calling him for?
He's not gonna do you any good.

Go on. No, no, no. No, wait.

I'm gonna sit down

and I'm gonna have dinner here, okay?

'Cause, see, my doctor...
My doctor says I should eat in company.

See? I have to eat in company.

My wife wants
to eat in company all the time.

In fact, my wife likes to eat company.

(LAUGHS)

I like to eat company, too.

(GRUNTING)

(INHALING)

We're all the same, aren't we, uh?

Come on, we're all the same.

We speak a different language,
but we have the same metabolism!

(YELLS)

No, no, no, no.

See, the difference is,

you see, I'm interested in bellies.

Say, you have a belly.
There's your belly, right there, see?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
all right, I'll say "stomach".

"Stomach".

You should say "stomach”
in mixed company.

(LAUGHS)

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

Come here. Come over here.

Come... You have a belly, too.
Here, see?

You got a belly. See?

I got a belly. I'll tell you what.

I'll show you mine,
if you show me yours.

Here's mine.

There's mine, okay?

No, no, no...

(GIBBERING)

It's the same as yours,
a little larger than yours.

See, the difference is...

The difference is,
mine is being eaten away.

See, mine is rotting away
from the inside.

You understand what I'm saying?

(DINERS TALKING INDISTINCTLY)

No, no, no, no, no, nol
I'm talking to the lady here.

Here, put your hand out.
Come on, touch it.

It won't bite you. It won't bite you.

It only bites me!

(LAUGHS)

It has cancer, see?

It's cancer.

See, I have cancer. Stomach cancer.

I have cancers. Cancer.

It's cancer!

(SCREAMING)

(DISHES CLATTERING)

(WOMAN SCREAMING)

(GLASS SHATTERING)

You know something?

Jesus Christ himself
would have died of stomach cancer,

if you people
hadn't crucified him first!

That's right!

(GRUNTING)

(LAUGHING)

(CLOCK CHIMING)

(PEOPLE SCREAMING)

(BELL CHIMING)

Bravol!

Bravol!

Bravol!

(GROANING)

(SNIFFLING)

OFFICER: Signor Kracklite.

Name?

Kracklite, Stourley Kracklite.

- Nationality?
- American.

Place of birth?

Chicago, Illinois.

Present address?

Rome.

Age next birthday?

I'm not gonna have another birthday.

Pardon?

55.

- Married?
- Yeah.

Children?

Yeah.

Occupation?

I'm an architect.

That's all.

Thank you. You may go.

You mean, that's really all?

What else could there be?

(SIGHING)

I'm sorry that we're late.
It's my fault.

I don't feel very well.

We almost didn't make it.
Where's Kracklite?

I need to sit down.

Whatever else has happened,
this was always Kracklite's exhibition.

Louisa, can you find a way to help us
and open up in his behalf?

Kracklite said a long time ago

that you have often officiated
occasions like this.

Opening supermarkets, naval ships,
and, uh, cutting the tape.

I think Caspasian should do it.

Caspasian, this is not for you.

Be content with what you've got.

(ARGUING IN ITALIAN)

No, no, no.

Here, take it.

Grazie. Grazie.

Please.

Grazie.

We are delighted, Signora Kracklite,
that you have agreed to do this.

Louisa, please.

We can continue to benefit from
the prestige of an American celebrity.

Without the embarrassment
of her clown of a husband.

(PEOPLE TALKING INDISTINCTLY)

(CASPASIAN SPEAKING ITALIAN)

(PEOPLE APPLAUDING)

(PEOPLE APPLAUDING)

And so, it is with great delight

that on Boullée's birthday,

{ ask Signora Kracklite

fo declare
this magnificent exhibition open.

(SPEAKING ITALIAN)

(GASPS)

CASPASIAN: Louisal

(ALL TALKING INDISTINCTLY)

(BABY CRYING)