All language subtitles for The.New.Pope.S01E01.eng

Bedtime. Now!

Good night.

THE NEW POPE Episode 1

Okay. We're ready.

Hand me the heart!

You wanna hear something funny?

This heart belonged to an Egyptian,
a Muslim.

Pray!

Have you been praying here
all night?

It didn't work.
The transplant didn't take.

- How do you know?
- I don't need to know.

I feel it.

It was not God.
It was the Church.

Our hatred is concrete.
Our enemy is obvious.

It's Iblis. It is the Christian.

And, as the Koran says:

"I will fill Hell with you all,
you and all those after you."

Our Hatred is concrete
and our enemy is obvious.

It is Iblis. It is the Christian.
And as the Koran says:

"I will fill Hell with you all,
you and all those after you."

The latest conciliatory words
from the caliph.

A raving lunatic
is not a priority of mine.

Everything is your priority right now,
My Most Eminent Secretary of State.

You've got terrorism at your gates,

you've got
an overdose of sexual scandals

that democratically touches
the entire ecclesiastical hierarchy,

and you've got a pope who is
no longer loved but idolized.

Three failed heart transplants later,
he is still in a coma,

so you can't exactly
squash the idolatry

and you know all too well
how dangerous idolatry is.

Idolatry is the prelude to war.

My compliments
for your expository clarity.

Thank you for the compliment.
Expository clarity

is one of the prerogatives
of an Ambassador to the Holy See.

I have often asked myself
if you are merely an ambassador,

or if you also perform other,
more delicate roles, for governments?

Nine months ago
Pius XIII fell into a coma.

He is still alive,
but at the same time he is dead.

You need a new pope.

Pius XIII is our Pope.

Have you no compassion,
no Christian charity?

I don't even know what they are.
I am been paid not to have them.

I thought they also paid you
never to be moved.

True.
I'm only moved in my free time.

Let me say it again,
you need a conclave.

You're moving too fast, Bauer.
The world is moving too fast.

In the Vatican,
we move at our own pace.

Which is why
we have lasted so long.

Our procedures are our power.

Power!

Your empire is collapsing, Voiello.
And you know it.

A new pope.

For the role in question, humbly
permit me to propose Hernández.

Or how about Sir John Brannox?

You know Pope Pius XIII so well,

you even claim that Lenny Belardo
granted you a miracle.

So what do you think
of this conclave?

A new pope while the other one
is still alive, albeit, alas, in coma?

Doesn't this all seem
a little strange to you?

No, it's not strange.
It's criminal.

I know the Vatican.

It's a den of snakes and scoundrels,
blackmailers and perverts.

And they can't wait to expel

the only pure soul who has ever
set foot in there: Pius XIII.

But they've miscalculated.
Pius XIII is a saint.

And to do good,
a saint only has to breathe.

Did you hear her?
Did you hear her, Girolamo?

She has it in for me.

But what does she know
about my work and its meaning?

There are those
who serve God in contemplation

and those who serve him
contemplating their own actions.

That's me. She has always seen me
as a man of the sewers.

She will never understand
that rats like me are needed

to prepare fertile ground
for holiness.

And you, Girolamo, will you still be
at my side in this new war?

I need to know, Girolamo.

You, my guardian angel,
will you be there?

I was sure of it.

So, brethren, have we given
the matter some thought?

- I like Cardinal Paoletti.
- You mean physically?

I would refrain from making
sexual innuendos these days.

This is no time for joking,
brethren.

We are deciding our own fate
and that of the Church.

But at any rate,
I fear Paoletti has Parkinson's,

so we'd be back to square one
in three months.

- Steinbeck?
- Another American?

And besides,
they've just discovered

a nasty little something
in his prostate.

The legendary Sir John Brannox?

I've never known a cardinal who
could convert Anglicans to Catholicism.

Too much of a snob.

He didn't want the crimson cap,
and didn't attend to the consistory.

Why don't you just give us the list
of whoever's in good enough health?

That would help us narrow down
the list and speed things up.

Hernández?

He's in an excellent health,
and is an extraordinary priest.

I don't trust extraordinary priests.

Under their robes
hides an ordinary man.

I hardly ever understand you,
Voiello.

I feel such tenderness for you,
Aguirre.

Please don't ever stop
not understanding me.

Then you suggest someone, Voiello.
A strong candidate,

because Hernández
has an impressive array of supporters.

Don't you think that, after all
these years, my time has come?

I am in perfect health.
To that end, I have prepared

a copy of my latest test results
for each of you.

Let me introduce you Don Luigi Cavallo,
my new right hand man.

An expert in making the world
feel uneasy. He will be invaluable.

I encourage you to think of me
not as the Vatican Secretary of State,

who may at times have been
wily, despotic, and brutal.

As pope, I would be different:
warm, moderate, prudent,

and respectful
of all sexual orientations.

Finally, an ordinary pope,
having been an extraordinary man.

Just look at him
and picture him as pope.

Who is more ordinary than him?
A stocky build, a forgettable face,

except for one detail,
which emphasizes its mediocrity.

I would wage a war against
eccentricity wherever it lurks.

"Living in the norm"
would be a fitting title

for a new book that could be
released to mark the occasion.

Everybody out.

He's the spitting image of Voiello.

- Hernández?
- Yes, actually he looks just like him.

Brannox.

Hernández.

Brannox.

Voiello.

Hernández.

Brannox.

We've finished.

Sabatini: 1.

Pavlovski: 1.

Henderson: 2.

Paoletti: 6.

Brannox: 15.

Voiello: 37.

Hernández: 50.

It's going to be a long run.

I don't think it's easy
to win a two-thirds majority.

What do you think, Hernández?

I think Voiello
is too short to be Pope.

Paoletti: 6.
Brannox: 25.

Voiello: 25.
Hernández: 60.

It's not looking good.
Voiello is not breaking through.

Hernández is in the lead.

If he manages to draw
another 30 or so votes,

he's the new pope.

Paoletti: 6.
Brannox: 20.

Voiello: 25.
Hernández: 65.

Who the heck is Brannox?

You have something on your cheek.

I would like a pope
who allows priests to marry.

I'd like him to officiate
my wedding to Luisa.

I'm sure he'd like her.

Who wouldn't like a woman
blessed with grace and warmth?

I'd like to come out of hiding.

A condition that has made me
a squalid, miserable, anxious man.

I would like a pope like me.

I would like a pope who feels
compassion for homosexuals.

Who would smile affectionately
and say, "Homosexuality?"

"Do as you please, brothers,
I have other things to think about."

I would like a pope
with wide open arms,

and when he says "let us love
one another", he says it to all.

I would like a pope who believes
a bit less in God and a bit more in me.

I would like a pope who believes
in the right to be presumptuous.

I would like a pope
who resembles my father,

whom I never knew.

I would like the new Pope
to show me my place in the world.

To nail me with the same nails

with which Christ
was nailed to the cross.

I would like a pope with no mercy,
a pope who rejects liberals,

pedophiles, homosexuals,
exploiters and infidels.

A pope who says:

"Enough, now we shall
only deal with two things,"

"God and poverty."

For me, Holy Father,
they are the same thing.

I would like a pope who lays
his hand on my head and says:

"I forgive you for everything
you did to those innocent souls."

"Let us start again together."

"I'll stand by you without asking
when and why you went wrong."

I would like a pope

who could save all the children
we distroyed, tormented, abandoned.

A pope who would
send me straight to Hell.

Because, Holy Father,
I can't take it any more.

I'd like a pope that was me, because
only I am capable of understanding you.

Paoletti: 2.

Brannox: 15.

Voiello: 32.

Hernández: 67.

He's stalled.
We're not going to break through.

After the thirty-fourth vote Hernández
will take it with a simple majority.

Assente, I know how it works.

Eminence, I keep voting for you,
is that right?

I'm doing what you told me.

Have you noticed that Hernández
is the spitting image of you?

You're wrong,
I don't resemble anyone.

Where is Aguirre?

He's already repositioned himself
in Hernández's room.

The irresistible call of a maracas.

- You can't seem to break through.
- I noticed.

- Better luck next time.
- Next time I will be 114 years old.

Tomorrow will be
the 35th round of voting.

At which point, Hernández will
only need 58 votes to become pope.

In truth, he already has them.
And with Aguirre, he'll have 59.

We might as well align ourselves
with him as well.

- Not on your life.
- Voiello, it's over.

No, it's only just begun.
Under pressure,

a good Secretary of State
must be flexible and tactical.

We don't understand.

You don't understand because
you have given in to your emotions.

But we must listen
to the Holy Spirit.

And a little while ago,
the Holy Spirit came to me and said:

"Voiello, why can't you
break through?"

"Because the cardinals voting for
Paoletti and Brannox don't trust you."

"They might trust someone who is,
shall we say, more docile,"

"more malleable."

"In which case you
would already recover 26 votes,"

"which, added to your 38,
make 64."

That is what that mathematician,
the Holy Spirit, told me.

Besides, cardinals love weak,
manipulable popes.

The weak candidate theory,
one of your golden oldies.

And who is this new candidate?

Hernández...

Hernández.

Hernández.

Hernández.

Hernández.

Hernández.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Viglietti.

Hernández: 49.

Viglietti: 67.

Habemus papam.

Do you accept
your canonical election

as Supreme Pontiff?

I accept.

By what name
do you wish to be called?

Francis II.

Have you ever had...

an histological exam
done on that mole?

Yes, it's benign.

This thing I have on my cheek
is my supplementary brain.

It only kicks in when there is some
minor problem. Like today.

"Administer justice every morning;

rescue from the hand of the oppressor
the one who has been robbed,

or my wrath will break out
and burn like fire

because of the evil you have done,
burn with no one to quench it."

No. Too apocalyptic, too political.
It will terrorize the faithful.

"Even the stork in the sky
knows her appointed seasons,

and the dove, the swift
and the thrush

observe the time
of their migration.

But my people do not know
the requirements of the Lord."

Enchanting.

Eminence, doesn't it seem a bit too
sugary for the pope's first homily?

Are you embarrassed
about your teeth,

covering your mouth like that
when you laugh?

My dear Cavallo,
let me present Sofia Dubois.

A woman
who will never feel uneasy.

Now, too sugary? Not at all.

That passage is sweetness and candor,
just like our new Pope.

Do you know what really moves me?

We've elected a pope
who doesn't realize he is a pope.

- And that's a good thing?
- No. Clams, that's a good thing.

What a superior woman!

- My blood pressure's off the charts.
- Why are you crying?

- Don't you ever cry?
- Only when I get beaten up.

Fortunately, it's rare that anybody
beats up the Secretary of State.

I'm scared.
What should I say?

You only have to read
the magnificent speech my staff

have drawn up with self-abnegation,
spiritual rigor and love.

Good day, brothers and sisters.

Before I introduce myself to you,

let us pray
for our beloved Pius XIII.

You're doing great.
Stick to the speech.

In the Bible Jeremiah says:

even the stork in the sky
knows her appointed seasons...

The turtle dove, the swift, the thrush
observe the time of their migration.

But my people do not know
the law of the Lord.

But what can we do?

Say this: we can pray.

God prays in the face
of the migrants' tragedies.

Go on, Tommaso. Say this,
then say goodbye and come away.

No!

Good God, no!

He's beginning to realize it.

Beginning to realize what?

That he has power.

What can we do?

We can pray.

For those who suffer,
those forced to flee.

But we can do even more.

We can open the Vatican

and take in the poor,
desperate migrants.

Come, come!

From tomorrow,
the Vatican gates shall remain open!

And what else can we do?

We can give our wealth
to the poor!

I...

My name is Francis II,

because I do what
St. Francis of Assisi would do!

What the fuck are you saying?

Eminence, everyone wishes
to confer with you.

Hernández wants
a private meeting.

The Italian Prime Minister
is alarmed about security,

hundreds of migrants are descending
on Rome, and he wants a meeting.

Managing directors, CEOs

that have dealings
with our financial structures

want an explanation.

- Bauer?
- He didn't show up.

Bad. Very bad.

- What do I tell these petitioners?
- To speak directly to the Pope.

The Pope is dead.

Mother, would you please
bring me some Easter cake?

The one made by Alemagna.

Holy Father, Easter cake
is only made at Easter time.

- That's months away.
- I don't care.

You would do well to get me some,
otherwise I will get upset.

And it's not good
if the pope gets upset.

What happened
to the Venus of Willendorf?

I imagined that you want to sell it,
Holy Father,

and donate the proceeds
to the poor.

So I sent it to London,
to be auctioned at Christie's.

And were you sorry
to part with her?

Attachment to material things

is an emotion that does not appertain
to the Vatican Secretary of State.

Nor at to the pope. In fact, we will
divest ourselves of everything.

- Even the refugees, Holy Father?
- No, they will stay.

It was a brilliant move on my part,
a charitable media triumph.

My papacy will be one long,
luxurious manifestation of poverty.

- Which has us all worried, Holy Father.
- Yes, I can imagine.

The time of privilege is over
but I'm not afraid of your reactions,

or that of the Curia,
and do you know why?

The people, the press are on my side.
The leftist press in particular.

Which is exactly why I invite you
to be prudent, Holy Father.

The leftist press
never gets anything right,

they've even lost ground
in nursing homes.

By the way, as soon as possible,

we must consider the selection
of the new Secretary of State.

May I have a word with you
in private, Holy Father?

You may speak with me in public.
I have no secrets.

But I do, Holy Father.

No! What are you doing here?
It's full!

We mistakenly thought
we could have some lunch here.

You have to go to the Sistine Chapel.

Now. Francis II is going
to address his brother cardinals.

It's full!

It's full!

Brother Cardinals...

Thank you.

Thank you for having placed
a poor, ignorant,

awkward monk
on the papal throne.

I would like to address you today,
but who am I to speak to you?

I'm just a poor man.

Far better that I speak to you
in the words of the saint

who, as of today,
shall be an inspiration to us all.

It's no looking good.

From the Testament of St. Francis:

"And those who came
to embrace this life

gave as much
as they could to the poor;

they were content
with a single tunic

patched within
and without at will".

Or...

Who is he?

The new pope.

Or this,
the last wishes to Saint Clare:

"And I counsel you to live always

in this most holy life of poverty."

My dear brethren Cardinals,
starting today,

we will all live according
to the rules of Saint Francis.

Poverty will be our uniform.

And so, as we intone together
the Canticle of Creatures,

some friars will move among you,

inviting you to place
your gold crosses

and your precious,
bejeweled rings in the baskets.

All your finery will be sold,

the proceeds given to the poor.

I know you will obey me in this,

that you will not cause your pope
to become upset.

In exchange,
I will embrace each of you.

Canticle!

- How did it go?
- Very well.

We've changed the passwords, only you
can log on to the bank accounts.

The vault too,
only you can get in.

Tomorrow they'll be crying.

I'll take care of it!
You all just relax.

- What are you playing at?
- Doing my job, my dear Voiello.

We'll close the accounts.

We'll liquidate our financial structure,
because we don't need it.

We'll donate all our wealth
to the poor.

We'll go back
to where Peter started from.

Do you want to destroy
a 2,000-year-old state, Tommasino?

Destroy? Not at all.

I want to restore it
to its original mission, charity.

Next to which
I shall place chastity.

I shall eliminate not only
the protagonists of sexual abuse,

but all sexual acts,
even those performed on oneself.

I shall install cameras everywhere,
even in the toilets.

Why not decapitate onanists
in the public squares?

- Tommasino, you're crazy.
- No, I am the Pope.

You may not call me by name
and you will never again say I'm crazy,

because I don't need staff,
I can make mistakes all by myself.

I only need remote operatives

to create a hiatus
between me and evil: the Curia.

Hence, you are no longer
Secretary of State.

See how things change?
You were powerful, now you're harmless.

Why don't you take another pill for your
blood pressure? You're overwrought.

I'm fine, you're the one who's feeling
unwell, even though you're hiding it.

- You're right. I beg your pardon.
- Good.

- Am I still Secretary of State?
- No.

Soon you won't even be a cardinal,
I'm going to defrock you.

Holiness, don't overreact, even a pope
must set boundaries for himself.

Is that a threat? That's the difference
between you and me.

You threaten, I get things done.

When you plotted
to have me elected,

didn't take all the elements
into account, you only considered one:

my naiveté which makes me
easy to manipulate.

And you would have been
the manipulator.

An error, because
I lost my naiveté years ago.

Listening to horrendous sins,
a confessor loses his candor.

In your haste to defeat Hernández,
you forgot something fundamental:

I wasn't only
the confessor for Pius XIII,

but for the whole Curia,
especially you.

I know the irregularities,

the scandals,
the sins, the sinners...

I know everything the head of the
modern Church should not know.

You keep saying my actions
are dangerous.

But there's only one dangerous thing
for you here today:

me knowing everything.

Because I do know everything, Voiello.

Hello, hello.

And here
is the feeling of the world

that Saint Francis
would have liked:

harmony.

He has taken control of the vault.
He plans to give it all away.

All the money,
all the gold to the poor.

The secret files to the press.
We will all end up in jail.

He has heard the word of God
and decided to follow literally.

- God was emotional.
- We are expected to be far-sighted.

Half of the cardinals vote for you.
The other half for me.

Neither one of us
will ever become pope.

I know.
We have to find a third choice.

Who do you have in mind?

The person who got the most votes
after you and me.

Sir John Brannox?

Yes, him,
the great advocate for the middle way.

- I have never even met him.
- You'll like him.

A compelling individual.
There is only one problem:

it will not be easy
to convince him to accept.

But you, Voiello,
are enormously persuasive.

Why is it that you and I have never
been able to tolerate each other?

We are too different.

But there is an obstacle between our
intention and Brannox becoming pope.

Francis II.
How shall we proceed?

With the power of prayer
and good will.