All language subtitles for The.Clowns.1970.ITA64.AAC-VXT

THE CLOWNS

Up!

Keep going.

Up … up!

Up … up!

Up!

Up … up!

Up!

Up … up!

Up!

Up! Up!

Up!

Keep going.

Up!

Up!
Keep going.

What is it?

The circus is here. If you don't behave,
I'll get those gypsies to take you away.

Close up.
Stay closer.

Morello … hop!

Ladies and gentlemen,

the circus has come to town.

The greatest show on earth.

Over here we have the Wild Man,
now completely civilised.

And we have dwarves.
The funniest dwarves in the world.

The Strong Woman, a true Amazon.

Not even a bull can knock her down,
she's so strong.

The greatest circuses in the world
want her,

but I won't let her go.

Roll up, ladies and gentlemen.

The wonderful show
is about to begin.

Roll up.

For the first time in history,

a stunt with a thousand-pound cannon.

It will fall right on Robur's back.

An extremely dangerous stunt.

Pay attention, ladies and gentlemen.

Observe the force that these two men

must exert to lift the cannon.

Easy, easy.
Be careful!

The strength of ten men
and five horses

wouldn't be enough
to lift the weight.

We ask the audience
to be absolutely quiet.

I'll give the signal
and Diablo will jump on the see-saw.

May the Lord be with us!

Ready, Diablo?
Go!

- Outstanding!
- My turn!

I'll do the cannon trick too.

You need the magic ingredient.

- Are you ready?
- I'm ready!

- Are you really ready?
- I'm super-ready!

Go!

- Hey, come here.
- I can't look. I'm scared.

- Can you do me a favour?
- What is it?

Hold this for me, will you?

My head!

Here I am!

What a great meal I'm going to have.

Bon appétit!

Zoltan!
Up you go, Zoltan!

Keep calm.

Anyone with a weak heart
had better leave.

The wrestler Aramis has dared
to challenge our female Hercules,

Miss Matilde.

With her hands of steel,
she holds Aramis by his throat.

Ten coins to anyone
who will fight our champion Matilde.

I'll do it!

- What are you doing?
- Shut up!

Anyone?
I repeat, ten coins in cash.

I said I'll do it.

- I won't let you!
- Sit down!

A lady?
Madam, are you aware of the danger?

It could be a deadly fight.

An extraordinary match.
Miss Tarzan against Matilde.

Music, Maestro.

Now, straight from the Kalihoor sect
of India, Fakir Burman.

In an incredible stunt,

Fakir Burman will be buried
in this sealed glass coffin

five feet underground.

He'll stay for 40 days

without eating,
drinking or breathing,

underground.

Buried alive.

We'll only open his tomb
40 days later.

Close it, please.

To Fakir Burman
and his superhuman stunt,

good luck.

The eighth wonder of the world.
A real mermaid.

Neptunia, caught in the North Sea.

Our little dwarf Adriano
is crazy about her,

but she couldn't care less
because, like all fish,

she's cold-blooded.

Neptunia, a fish for you?
Here you are.

Here, take this!
Bon appétit.

A truly rare phenomenon.

The Siamese twins Jim and John.

Show the audience.

Look how nature has united,
in life and in death,

these two creatures.

Show everybody.

The Siamese twins.
You want to see, kid? Do you like them?

Cute, aren't they?

It's our turn to work!
Make room for us.

Braciola, come here.
Do you know the answer to this riddle?

It's not my brother …
I almost fell over!

It's not my brother,
it's not my sister,

but it's my father's
and my mother's child.

Who is it?

- And where is it?
- The little fish …

Where is it?
Where is it?

- I'm looking for the little fish.
- Where is it?

I'll look for it in the wine.

Listen, Tip-Tap.
Do you like honey?

Of course I like honey.

This is what you have to do, then.

- You're the queen bee.
- I'm the queen bee!

You're the queen bee
and you buzz around, like so.

I buzz around …
I buzz around …

Who do I buzz around?

You just buzz around,
not around me!

What a nice little fish.
Now I'm going to fry it.

Bring me a pan.

Hey, Cipolla!

How dare you kick my little fish?

Excuse me, sir. Can you please
hold this little nail for me?

Not there!
You have to hold it right here.

Look … look at the little bird.

How can I hit it
if you don't hold it here?

This is not the way to think.
Not like this!

I'm here to work!
You're just having fun.

Don't make me mad
or I'll ask someone else.

Don't lean back.
Here!

Why don't you want to do it?
Keep it up!

Who knocked?

I'm coming to open the door.

You have to hold it here.
Please!

We've done it at last!

Hey!
Cipolla!

Drink up!

The cow's loose!
Save yourselves!

The cow's coming!
Run!

What are you crying for?
Pain in the neck!

I'll deal with you when we get home.

That evening ended badly.

The clowns didn't make me laugh.
In fact they frightened me.

Those chalky faces
with their inscrutable features.

Those twisted, drunken masks.

The shouting, the crazy laughter,

their absurd, cruel jokes.

They reminded me of other
strange and disturbing characters.

Characters you find
roaming around every country town.

Take Giovannone, for example.

A clumsy, clowning tramp
who flirted in his own peculiar way.

Dirty old man!
I'll chop it off!

The women pretended to be angry,

but they actually enjoyed
hearing Giovannone's innocent jokes.

Such a dirty old man.

Then there was a dwarf nun.
She couldn't have been more than a foot tall.

Always talking to herself,

always in a hurry,
saying she had to do everything

because the saints
didn't trust anyone else.

She went back and forth
between the convent and the asylum.

WINE

Scoundrel!

You should drop dead!
And so should I, for marrying you.

Your balls should drop off.
What an ugly face!

I'll throw you off the cliff.

You should be with the rats.

The World War I veteran,
another terrifying character.

He always sat by the sea,
accompanied by the brave uniformed Zig-Zag

and by a lady called Ines,

who knew
all Mussolini's speeches by heart.

"For England,
the Mediterranean Sea is a shortcut.

"For us Italians, it's life!"

And the coachmen at the station,
constantly arguing.

A gorgeous Austrian!

We spent all night
making love at the Grand Hotel.

- They had to take her away.
- Yeah, sure! To the bathroom.

Coward!

I'll kill you!

Curses rang out through the city.

Fist-fights, whippings …

until the station master
finally appeared.

Stop it, you peasants!

Where do you think you are,
the town square?

Scoundrel!
What's your name?

I'll report you to the proper authorities!
What's your name?

I'll put you in jail!
I'll lock you all up!

I know you. I know your father.
I'll lock you up!

I'll ruin your life.

I'll report you
to the proper au-tho-ri-ties!

And then there was Giudizio.

He kept score
through those endless games of billiards.

His stammer made him
a little hard to understand,

but he was a quiet,
good-natured man.

Do you have Sekt or champagne?

- What did you say?
- Sekt. Champagne.

We don't have champagne, sir.

Is it all finished?

Sorry, but we do have some cognac.

They only have cognac, darling.

Don't you have anything French?

No, we've only got this one,
but it's good.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

- Good night.
- Good evening.

Now I remember where I saw her!
Last year at the harbour, in a bathing suit.

Sure! You've never seen anyone
in a bathing suit.

Hey, it's my turn.

Shut up, kid.
You've already got four points.

Yes, Giudizio was an easy-going chap.

His fits of madness would strike

the day after he'd seen a war film.

He'd put on his uniform,
leave his saddle shop

and creep around by the walls,
convinced he was at war.

War! The bomb!
The bomb!

Who is it?

- It's Giudizio.
- Giudizio?

Go on, off you go.

Giudizio, I caught you!
Go home.

Get off! I saw you!
You got one, and you got two.

I'll tell your missus.

Let him be.
He's a poor old soul.

Come on, the Austrians are here!

Charge!

Come on, Giudizio.

That's enough now.
Come and have some wine.

Ah, the flag.

The clowns of my childhood …
Where are they today?

That terrifying, comic violence.

That noisy exhiral … ex-hi-la …

Exhilaration!
That noisy exhilaration.

Can it still be entertaining?

The world it belonged to
no longer exists.

- Theatres turned …
- Hold on, you're too fast.

Theatres turned into big halls.

The shiny, naive scenery

and the audience's childish credulity
no longer exist.

Only faint, heartbreaking traces
remain of the old circuses.

And that's what we're going to seek out.

So, Gasparino,
you can leave tonight.

I'll take some nails, wood and lamps.
I've got everything.

- Is it true we're going to Paris?
- Let me introduce my little crew.

- Gasparino, headgrip.
- I'm ready to leave.

- I've packed everything.
- Hello, Mum.

Alvaro, our sound man, with his mother,
a seamstress and hairdresser.

I wrote everything down.

Maya is our script supervisor.

This young man is our cameraman.
His name's Roy. He's English.

We begin our investigation into the clowns

at one of Italy's greatest circuses.

Liana, Rinaldo
and Nandino Orfei's circus.

Welcome to Liana,
Nando and Rinaldo Orfei's circus.

I'm extremely happy to be back here.

Let's get in closer.
She kills me!

Enjoy the show!

- Nice and slow, please.
- Hi.

Let's hear it
for the Amazon of the Orfei family.

Tonight she was greater than ever!

And now, for children and adults alike,
Amleto and Ginetto

in an exhilarating new routine

coming to you for the first time
in your town.

Here they are … Amleto and Ginetto!

Bravo! Amleto and Ginetto!

And now …
Matma and her 20 elephants!

Every circus in the world
envies this magical number

and we're very proud of it.

Matma is the only tamer
in the world …

It's Anita Ekberg!

Hey, Federico!

- What are you doing here?
- I want to buy a panther.

- A panther?
- To keep at home.

You should buy a tamer too.
They're dangerous.

That's what I like!

Here we are.

Mr Fellini,
you asked if I've been wounded

in my career as a lion tamer.

I'd be happy to tell you.

- Bravo! At last!
- 280 stitches all over my body.

Torn rib muscles.

Punctured armpit,
stitches in my head, injured spine,

ripped shoulder blade, muscle …

I've pulled him out of the cage
three times.

Four, in fact.

Next time I'll leave him in there.
He looked like a raw hamburger.

Is it true that the founder
of the Orfei circus was a priest?

The old clown says bon appétit
to everyone.

- How's your leg, Nando?
- Playing up. I'd better soak it.

Soak it in water this time, not wine.

I don't know if that's any better!
Thank you, madam. Good night.

Good night, everyone.

He'd take friends to lunch
then give them the bill.

Clown acts have to be short
and make people laugh in ten minutes.

"Give it some rhythm!"
How many times have I heard …

No, no, no. Tigers shouldn't eat
before performing. Right, Nandino?

I was four and a half years old.
They called me "Peanut"!

Look, that type of comedy is finished.
Modern clowns have to be funny.

- It's the Spaniards versus the Italians.
- My dad was really funny.

Elephants are always so pensive.

For me?
Thank you.

Night-time training for a young tiger
that's recently arrived at the circus.

The atmosphere is tense.

Please be quiet over there.
Be quiet!

One of the Orfei brothers
has a loaded gun

and is ready to use it
if anybody's in danger.

It's wagging its tail.

The lion tamer
shouts his commands in German.

He says it's the only human language
that wild beasts understand.

The animal's getting rattled.

Clowns who entertain the audience
while the cages are being put up

are called Auguste.

Why are they called that?
Who invented this character?

People say
that towards the end of the last century

there was a janitor
who was so clumsy and funny

that he made everyone laugh.

His name was Auguste.

But the first great clown,
the one who created the Auguste character,

was the French clown Jimmy Guyon.

He had a fascinating life.

He was a first-class artist.

He could cover his nose
with his lower lip, like this.

But he drank all the time.
He turned into an alcoholic.

He ended up in a hospital bed,
alone and forgotten.

One day

he heard that Footit and Chocolat
were in town with the Nouveau Cirque.

He'd never seen
these famous clowns before.

He managed to sneak out of the hospital
and rushed off to the circus.

He's dead.

We've come to Paris,
where the circus became an art form.

It's the birthplace
of the Cirque d'Hiver,

the Nouveau Cirque and the Medrano.

And it was here that talented clowns

found fame and became established.

We're at the Café Curieux in Les Halles,
the farmers' market in Paris.

The owner, an old sailor,

displays souvenirs
of his travels around the world.

We're waiting for Tristan Rémy,
the greatest living circus historian.

Some of the most famous white clowns
are here with us.

- Unlike white clowns …
- Maya, I love you, but move over.

"A white clown
is the one with the white cone hat."

Here's Tristan Rémy.
He'll explain exactly what a white clown is.

Now let me introduce our guests.

Alex, 73,
the typical authoritarian white clown.

Nino is a gentle white clown
in the style of François Fratellini.

Ludo is the only dwarf white clown.

Maïs is showing us
a real collector's item,

one of Antonet's fabulous costumes.

So, Tristan,
did you come here to criticise me?

Do I stay here?
A little bit lower?

Are you going to eat or not?

- Of course.
- Finally, an answer!

Be careful with that big belly!
My pictures!

Tristan, we're discussing
what you wrote about Antonet.

They start talking straightaway
about Antonet,

perhaps the most famous white clown.

An argument breaks out

because Rémy insists that with Antonet

the white clown
stopped playing a comic role

and became an authoritarian figure

who shouts, gets angry
and bosses Auguste around.

A kind of cantankerous MC.

Alex, Nino and Maïs, on the other hand,
insist that Antonet made people laugh

and was a master stuntman.

Rémy disagrees.

He says that he never once saw Antonet
fall over in his entire career.

A bit of flour.

A bit more flour.

And I stir, I stir, I mix it up.

A bit of water.

Idiot, smell it.

Here it is, ladies and gentlemen.
The most exquisite dish ever!

Thank you, sir.

All right, stupid,
now let's see what you can do.

- Where are you going?
- I need the gentleman's hat.

I take no responsibility for this idiot.

I can't believe
you let him in here every night.

I'll make the smelliest cake
there's ever been.

Whoever eats it
will never get over it.

First I'll take
a premature chicken egg.

Is it coming down?

You imbecile!
My hat!

Let me make a cake!

Is this your act, Ludo?

No jokes, no jokes …

All these discussions,
these fancy words …

What do you have to say
about the dwarf clowns?

Come on!

You, Mr Rémy,

with all your books about clowns,

why don't you ever write
about dwarf clowns?

Why would I write about them?

The dwarf calmed down
and then another argument broke out.

Who made the white clowns'
fabulous costumes?

Alex and Nino say
that the clowns' wives made them.

Rémy believes they were made
by famous designers.

The white clowns
competed with one another

and all tried to have
the most ostentatious costumes.

All of a sudden Rémy asked me,

"Why do you want to make a film
about clowns?

"The circus world no longer exists.

"The real clowns have all disappeared.

"The circus no longer has any meaning
in today's society."

And he added
that it deserved to end up like this.

"The Cirque d'Hiver and the Medrano

"are the only two circuses in Paris
with their own building.

"The Medrano has been turned
into a huge Bavarian beer hall,

"while the Cirque d'Hiver is still running
but only opens three days a week.

"In the photos from its heyday
it seemed larger,

"with bright lights and elegant women.

"Now it looks much smaller.

"Most of the audience are children.

"There's a sense that the party's over,
the show's gone out of fashion."

Look at those funny faces!
You have to be born into it.

Are you the Italians
here to see Mr Bouglione?

Sorry, he's so busy
he can only spare five minutes.

Maya, read the notes on Bouglione.

- "The Cirque d'Hiver is still running …"
- No, you've already read that.

Bouglione, former lion tamer,

is the last of the great circus owners.

Two young clowns are auditioning for him
and hope to be hired.

Now you will see
a total eclipse of the sun.

There.

Wait …

Not now, gentlemen.
Please.

His name is Baptiste.
He's a psychiatrist.

He did his first shows
in a psychiatric hospital.

- She's Chaplin's daughter.
- She doesn't want people to know.

His dream is to tour France
with a circus,

bringing traditional clown acts
back to life.

Bravo!
Wonderful!

The girl with him
is Charlie Chaplin's daughter.

- With just one clown …
- Welfare programme.

Ah, yes, here's the welfare programme.
Poor children should be given free milk.

Who drank all the free milk?

Maya, please read the notes
on Captain Houcke.

- I can't find them. Where are they?
- Hurry up, Maya.

"Jean Houcke is 93.
He's the oldest circus manager in the world.

"He discovered major talents
like Bario and Dario.

"For 35 years
he ran the circus in Amiens.

"Next Sunday the city of Amiens
will make him an honorary citizen."

- Very good!
- Cut it out. You always make fun of me.

He's been lodging with us for four years.

Can we come in?

Good morning, Mr Houcke.

You took your time!

He got all dressed up for you,
with a nice shirt and scarf.

I must ask you
not to stay too long because …

Do you speak Italian, Mr Houcke?

I'm making a film about clowns.

Now, you've managed circuses
for many years.

- The first time was in 19 …
- These gentlemen would like to know …

- What?
- … your thoughts on clowns.

Which famous clowns
did you work with?

I don't remember.

Sometimes old Houcke can't remember.

It's not true.
He remembers everything.

The circus is all he talks about.

He wants to buy the old hall

and start a "Circus of the Future"
with animal tamers and singers.

Beniamino Gigli and Tito Schipa
will sing there.

- Will you sing too?
- No, but I could.

This is the King of Sweden,

Laurel and Hardy,
Beniamino Gigli and Grock.

All my friends.

"We're visiting Charlie Rivel,
the famous Spanish Auguste.

"He's 74.

"Charlie Rivel and Grock
are the only clowns who became rich.

"Rivel has been the guest
of every king in Europe.

- "He created a grotesque Auguste …"
- The other way up, Maya.

Hold it by the head.

"He created

"a grotesque Auguste
with a long red sweater,

"drawing his inspiration
from the way children behave."

I love Spanish music!

Oh, yes!

Come in.

I was born in a little Spanish village.
Do you remember?

Did you know, Mr Fellini,
that I was born in a public square?

My mother had labour pains
as she danced on the tightrope.

She was a tightrope walker.

At six I was already an expert
on the tightrope.

My father said,
"It's only natural that you're an expert

"because you were doing it
when you were in your mother's womb."

The circus in Spain is still doing well.

They perform in the Plaza de Toros.

As a child, I saw a terrible thing
happen to a trapeze artist.

He used a big balloon in his act

and he would hang from it.

One of the steel cables
cut off his leg.

The blood fell like rain
on the audience below.

Are we supposed to laugh?

Cheers!

- Cheers!
- Cheers!

- Cheers!
- Cheers!

The government should open
a school for clowns.

I'd teach students how to break plates,

how to roll on the ground,
how to slap somebody.

You think it's easy
to slap somebody?

It's very complicated!

You need teachers if you want
to learn how to slap, miss.

I can't digest these.

Hey, look.
Nice!

It's so funny!

This young man is Pierre Étaix,
a film director and actor.

He married Annie Fratellini,

daughter of Gustave Fratellini,
Paul Fratellini's son,

one of the three brothers
that became very popular

in the period between the wars.

Pierre Étaix has a short film
made in 1924 about the Fratellinis

and has invited us to his house to watch it.

No, madam, the Arc de Triomphe
isn't in this neighbourhood.

In Père Gustave's big house,
there's a special projector

because the film was shot
with a special reduced format.

Careful, this camera is fragile.

- You see, I'm worried.
- Why? I don't understand.

Because …

- We should help him.
- No, he likes it.

I'm afraid that you'll say in your film
that clowns have disappeared.

Yes, but don't worry.

No, Mr Fellini.
Clowns haven't disappeared.

People don't know
how to laugh any more.

The whole world needs
to laugh again with clowns.

The one on the right is my father,
Paul Fratellini.

The others are my uncles,
Albert and François.

- Two more minutes and we're ready.
- Pierre …

Are all these people
the Fratellini circus troupe?

- Yes, the whole family.
- Just one family?

Alvaro …

Are you hurt?
Sorry.

This is Albert's hat.
No, madam, it's better like this.

There.

Père Gustave, what about these?
Are these clowns as well?

Everybody sit down.
Let's get started.

This is a rare documentary.

It's about a séance …

The film's broken.

Turn the light on.

Sorry I can't help,
but I don't know a thing about projectors.

- What's this instrument called?
- A xylophone.

- François invented it, right?
- Yes.

- How does it sound? Do you like it?
- It's nice.

Sorry.
The machine is old like me.

That sound bothers my ears, though.

Pierre, there's something wrong.

We want our money back!

Oh, again?
Come on, Pierre!

Don't be upset. We've got time.
We came here to …

That's never happened before.

In the end we gave up on the film.

Instead Annie showed us a scrapbook

made by a fan of the Fratellinis.

He had an accident.

It's funny like this, too!

He says that one night
Albert forgot his wooden wig

and Paul split his head open
with the axe.

That's the hat stunt.
My father did it and I did it too.

Alberto's Auguste
has English roots, right?

And was Francois' white clown
like Antonet?

- Similar to Antonet?
- No, he was completely different.

A dancer, very gentle.

Ah, that tune!

That's very nice.

- May I?
- This was their entrance music.

The musicians!
Schubert performed by the Fratellinis.

Annie and Père Gustave told us
all about Paul, Albert and François

and their immense generosity.

They often performed for free

in trenches, asylums and hospitals.

They hide in remote suburbs
and old houses in the town centre,

these old performers
who no longer appear on stage.

The town doesn't know
about these bizarre ghosts living there.

Yes, it's me.

- That's him.
- We don't know that man.

Thanks, we've found him.

- Excuse me for a moment.
- Hello, Mr Loriot.

I just went up to change my clothes.

- I know Rome very well.
- Forgive the intrusion.

It's like a set from La Bohème.
It reminds me of …

- Shut up for once in a while!
- Pope Pius X saw me.

Mr Loriot, look into the camera

as I introduce you to my secretary,

my cameraman.

You're in great shape!

I'll play one of my old records for you.

Maya, read Père Loriot's biography.
Look into the camera.

Watch out. You dropped a paper.

"His real name is Georges Bazot,
he's 85 and he performed for 68 years.

"He started out as an Auguste figure
known as Bowden.

"He worked for 28 years at the Cirque d'Hiver
playing Auguste

"with the greatest clowns
in the history of the circus.

"Bario, Porto, Rhum, Mimile, Zavatta.
They all worked with him.

"He still performs occasionally
for small provincial circuses.

"He rides his bicycle
for a couple of hours every day."

In Rome, nobody laughed.

I went to ask the manager
what was wrong.

He said, "You were wonderful!"
I said, "But nobody laughed."

"Oh", he said,
"They never laugh. Never."

Here's my little photo album.

Here's Professor Tournesol

from the film
Tintin et le mystère de la Toison d'Or.

I created that character.

Here's Rhum.
What an artist he was!

The best clown of them all.

Here I am with my wife,
after the 1914 war.

- That's your wife?
- Yes, it is.

It was.
She's no longer with us, poor thing.

We were together 53 years.

That's a pretty long time.

Allow me to drink to her memory.

To her precious memory.

This is a silhouette of Pum Pum.

Look.
Is that a circus?

Yes, the Medrano.
But it's been turned into a beer house.

Slow down, please.

Have you ever heard of a clown
called Rhum?

What?

Ever go to the circus?

You think I have time for the circus?
I have other things to do.

The circus!
As if!

Hello.

- I'm very pleased to see you.
- Good morning, madam.

I can speak Italian.

How is Mr Bario?

Come in, please.

Bario is another famous name
in French circus history.

His real name is Manrico Meschi.

He left Livorno with his brothers
70 years ago and never returned.

Tristan Rémy says
that everybody loved Bario's Auguste.

A drunken, noisy, childlike tramp.

Let's not forget
the Anglo-Saxon version of the tramp …

My dear Mr Fellini, it's no use.
He won't come down.

He's been away from Italy 40 years
and seeing Italians makes him very emotional.

Do you want to try, Tristan?
Maybe he'll come down.

- Yes, of course.
- Tristan, tell him he can't do this.

Mrs Bario, do you have any photos?
An album or something?

Of what?

Photos of when you worked together,
photos of the circus.

- Yes, we've got some up there.
- Thank you. Will you show them to me?

Here.

- These are your children, right?
- This is Nello and this …

- Where are they now?
- They're in Lille.

- This is Bario.
- I recognise him.

Is this little girl your granddaughter?

That's me.
When I was a child I had a dog act.

Sorry about this silly question,
but were you sad to leave the circus?

I mean, do you miss the life?

Yes, you always miss the past,
your youth.

Ours was a wonderful life.

We were born in the circus.
Yes, we miss it a lot.

- You've never spoken to a young lady?
- Never.

It doesn't matter. I'll tell you what to say.
Just repeat after me. Are you ready?

Repeat this.

"Miss, ever since I saw you
I haven't eaten anything."

Miss, ever since …
But there hasn't been anything to eat!

Idiot, repeat after me.
"I haven't drunk anything."

Come on!

Keep going.
"Miss, I haven't slept."

- Don't make me say silly things.
- That's how you win a woman's heart.

Repeat after me.
"Miss, I'm ready to die for you."

What are you talking about?

It's romantic.

I'm supposed to die
for a two-bit wooden dummy?

Help! Help!

I'll sit down because I feel very tired.

Please do.

- Listen, you insisted …
- Yes.

… on interviewing me here at home.

Yes, I did.

But it breaks my heart
to talk about the circus.

I want you to know that the circus

was my whole life.

I started out with my brothers.

With one of them.
The other one didn't like the circus.

And I spent 60 years there.

Then I came home.

What is your life like now?

Now I have a quiet life.

I listen to Italian radio night and day

because I can't forget Italy.

How do you spend your time now?

During the day I feed my canary.

Then there's my wife … and …

I lead a quiet life.
I try to forget.

But I can't forget the circus,
I really can't.

- Thank you for coming to see us.
- All the best, madam.

Poor man. I felt so sorry for him.
Old age is a horrible thing.

Good luck.

The greatest clown was Rhum.

Once again Rémy talked to me about Rhum.

He was different from the other clowns,
with his subtle make-up and creative talent.

He told me stories
about his unhappy life.

Women didn't like him, so he drank.

When he was drunk
he came up with his funniest gags.

He died young.

They had a whip-round
to pay for his funeral.

Our curiosity to learn more
about this clown

brought us here, to the French
state TV building, to see a rare treasure,

a short film featuring Rhum.

The vast, funereal atmosphere
epitomises our search for a lost world.

A voyage into another dimension

that showed us an unknown side of Paris.

- Who knows how I'll get my money back.
- Hello, madam.

- Where are you going?
- Mrs Klosinsky.

Hey, Adelaïde!

- Where do we go?
- Over there.

Thank you.

- You're Mr Bellini?
- Fellini. It's Fellini.

- You're here to see Series 12, 435A?
- I think so.

The directors
have authorised the viewing.

Thank you.

Come in, please.
You can see it from where you are.

Is it silent?

Yes.
The whole of Series 12 is silent.

That's not Rhum.
There's some mistake.

- That's not Rhum, madam.
- This is 435A.

Oh, here he is.
That's Rhum.

THE END

Is that it?

- It's finished? Madam?
- So it seems.

I felt embarrassed,
as if our quest had failed,

our journey had led us nowhere.

Maybe Tristan Rémy is right.

Maybe the clown really is dead.

Look.

- What's happened?
- He's dead.

Poor soul.

- Happiness!
- Why are you saying "happiness"?

- Don't you know who's dead?
- Who's dead?

- Fischietto's dead.
- Fischietto's dead?

Yes, he's a dead corpse.

Just when we were supposed
to be playing poker.

Oh, well done.
Your sorrow will refresh my feet.

I was supposed to kill him
but he died of his own accord.

- Show some respect.
- I've brought beer.

- Beer?
- I've brought beer.

Beer for everyone!

Stop right there!
Who is it? How's it going?

- What's going on here?
- Mr Ringmaster!

- Who let you in?
- I take my hat off!

That's enough! Don't you realise
there's been a tragedy?

Poor Mr Fischietto is dead.

Stop this!

Show some respect
for a poor widow's grief.

I look good in black.
It accentuates my curves.

This way.

Poor soul.

- My friend!
- So handsome!

I'll deflate you too!

What are you doing?
Are you crazy?

- Put that candle down.
- But it's so good.

I've been eating candles
since I was a child.

Dad!

Daddy,
why did you leave me all alone?

This is my inheritance.

This is mine.

Everybody stay where you are!
I'm the lawyer.

The lawyer with the will.
Where is it?

Oh, here it is.

He's going to read his will.

The true will, written,
autographed and signed by the dead man

when he didn't know he was dead.

Go on, Camicia, take it.

Go on.

Go on.
Stop there.

"I, the undersigned Fischietto Filadagrile,

say and state that if I'd had
a villa by the sea surrounded by trees,

I'd have left it to my faithful dog.

But since I don't have a villa by the sea,

I leave my trombone to my friend Bebè,

my empty suitcase to my friend Bobo …"

He hasn't left me anything!

"… my fleas to everybody …"

What am I going to do?
I'm a poor orphan!

Hold it, everyone!

Time for a photo.

Don't move.

This way. That way.
Like this.

- Keep still.
- Hold it like that.

One … two … three.
Effects?

Well?
What's going on?

Check out the lamp.
All ready, sir!

All ready?
Why didn't it work properly?

- The lamp was ready. I set it earlier.
- All right now?

- Go ahead, it's all set now.
- All ready.

Keep still, then.

One … two … three.
Go.

- Damn! Check the lamp again.
- I fixed it.

- Maybe it's wet.
- Yeah, right. Wet! Don't move.

Move your foot.
Wake up!

It's fine, sir.
I've got it.

- You're not done yet?
- Shut up!

This is ready.
It's fine.

This goes there.
It'll work now.

The wires.
Check the wires.

Keep going, keep going.
Now drop the planks.

See, sir? It works.
Roll camera, sir. Roll camera.

Nail.

He took the tastiest one!

You missed it!

You missed again!

Try this.

It's good.

Goodness me!

I feel fine now.

There you go.

There you go.

Mr Fellini, what message do you want
to send out with this TV special?

Well, the message I'd like to …

Are you trying to create a parallel …

Thank you …

Five!
You missed all of them!

Ladies and gentlemen,
sad news fills the air today.

Mr Auguste, aka The Clown,

has passed away, has departed,
is deceased … is dead.

His few friends
and his many creditors

mourn his early death
at the age of 200.

We couldn't call him
handsome or intelligent.

We couldn't say anything about him

because he'd respond
to even the slightest observation

by squirting water in our faces.

On this sad occasion,
a speech about the deceased,

to preserve pleasant memories of him,

is a hopeless undertaking,
my dear friends.

How can I say
anything good about him?

It's impossible to find a single episode
in his wretched existence

that would make you say,
"He was a nice man after all."

He's always been untalented,

a lazybones, a drunk,
a troublemaker, a good-for-nothing.

He cheated at games,
was disloyal to his friends,

a pain in the neck for his landlord
and for the electricity board.

We all weep
at the sad news that he died now

and not when the nurse said,
"It's a boy!"

He dedicated his long, miserable life

to throwing buckets of water
in people's faces,

breaking eggs on their heads
and wiping soap on their mouths.

He played the trombone with his feet
and danced the tango with his ears.

He made children laugh
and his own sons cry.

As a white clown
and as his enemy brother,

I tried all I could
to teach him some manners

by hitting him on the head,
treading on his feet

and slapping his neck.

But Auguste the clown
rebelled against all advice

and pursued
his grotesque, drunken career.

He kept on cavorting

under a shower
of rotten eggs and dirty water

until he was suffocated
by an ostrich egg.

It entered his nose
and got stuck in the depths

of the third carotid artery on the left.

His lungs failed
and his soul flew out of his right ear.

He is no longer with us,
but luckily I am.

Weep, my brothers, if you wish.

As for me,
I cried more than enough

when I had to put up with him
on stage at the circus.

Amen.

Dum-di-dum, dum-di-dum,
Fischietto has …

- No!
- … gone!

Come on, come on!

We've done our eight contracted hours.

We're sick of working like animals.

This is too much, damn it!

Hey, Maestro.

Start!

Go round again!
Fanfulla, don't stop!

Faster, faster.
Where are you going?

Sorry, Federico,
I've twisted my ankle.

Come on, faster with that cart!

Colombaioni, don't slow down.
Don't slow down!

Faster, faster.
Come this way.

Faster with the cart!
Whip the horses!

Keep going, keep going!

Don't stop.
Go round again!

Come on, Maya.
What's Fumagalli doing there, Maya?

What is it?
He's exhausted.

Come on, don't stop.
Come on, faster.

What's wrong, Fumagalli?

He doesn't feel well.

- Fumagalli, what is it?
- I can't do it.

Go and get the cannon now.

I'll count to three and then shoot you
four times with the cannon.

I say one, I say two, I say three!

Maya, Maya!

Surrender!

Surrender!

Faster!
Go faster!

It's nice and warm here.

I liked it very much.

Turn the lights out.
It's over.

- Good night, sir.
- Good night.

Can I go home, sir?

- Yes. Do you feel better now?
- Yes.

You know, Mr Fellini,

I used to do an act
with my partner Fru-Fru.

He'd pretend that he was dead.

I'd come out and say,
"Where's Fru-Fru?"

"Don't you know?"
the ringmaster would say. "He's dead."

"What do you mean, dead?" I'd say.

"He needs to give me ten sausages
and a candle that I lent him last year."

"Well, he's dead,"
the ringmaster would say.

"Where can I find him?" I'd say.

"Idiot!
I'm telling you he's dead!"

But I wouldn't give up
and started calling out to him.

"Fru-Fru! Fru-Fru!"

No reply.

"He must really be dead," I'd say.

"If he's dead, how will I find him?

"A person can't just disappear like that.
He must be somewhere.

"Fru-Fru!"

Then I'd have an idea.

"I'll call him with my trumpet
like I used to when he worked with me."

So I'd start to call him with my trumpet.

I'd play the first few notes,
then I'd listen.

Nothing.

I'd try again.

It was a really beautiful song,
it made you cry.

It went like this.