All language subtitles for Swept.Away.EN

SWEPT AWAY

How marvelous!

Look, what a paradise.

We're ruining this paradise
with our garbage.

We pretend we live
in an industrialized society,

and so on with the massacre.

Think what will happen
when there are a million of us.

The sea will be a sewer.

Nice thought.

A shithole full of starving people.

Some paradise.

Okay, but let's enjoy it now.

Don't get your knickers
in a twist now though.

Who cares? Sure.

Live for today.

Look at the great planners of tomorrow.

Sure, to save what is left of Italy,

Italians should be segregated
in a special reserve.

-Especially the fertile ones.
-Should we sterilize the masses too?

Of course.

It's no joke, sweetie.

You bet we should.

Christ, here she goes again.

I know you leftists all right,

making love to the Pope
by voting against the divorce law.

-That’s bullshit!
-That’s the way it is, my friend.

You think the Pope would go for divorce?

If it weren't for the left,
there'd still be no divorce.

-Fine, fine.
-Would you have divorce in Italy today?

But at least you'd shut up about abortion.

You're too ignorant for words.

The left has proposed an abortion bill.

Do you expect state-subsidized abortions?

Yes. Free abortions.

And TV adverts for condoms.

Fuck off, Raffaella.

You're messed up.

De Gaulle said it all in 1960.

Remember? That old buzzard.

No, darling.

He understood more than the communists.

You're always picking on the communists.

Those great economic experts.

They still ship yellow shoes to Moscow
and black ones to Leningrad.

And they want to teach us.

Russians aren't storekeepers,
they're artists. Understand?

Ah, artists?

Imaginative! Like Stalin did a good job
on concentration camps.

They were well run.

Brilliantly organized too.

But nothing compared to what
the Americans did at Hiroshima.

Here we go again!
It's Stalin versus Hiroshima.

It's the same old story.

The left struggles on,
the right butters up the Vatican.

Now, the communists have always been
at the opposition, and the Church —

The Vatican? Oh, please.

You kiss their asses.

You dream about sharing their power.

The Vatican teases but won't shack up
with the left.

You're so anticommunist
that you fear a Communist-Vatican pact

because otherwise
that would mean the end for you.

-Right. That's it for you.
-Sure, it is.

Stalin hearing confessions,

giving 30 years of Hail Marys in Siberia.

Leave Siberia out of it.

Thirty years of this government
for fear of communism.

Thirty years!

Same government breaking our balls, honey.

Thirty years, breaking them wide open.

Yes. Wanna swap places with me?

Swap with you? Never.

It'd be like out of the frying pan
and into the fire. Fancy that!

Prefer a military junta?

What a look.

If looks could Kill, I'd be dead.

Damn commie.

He's an activist. He's almost top dog
in his neck of the woods.

He thinks we steal from the poor.

One of these nights,
he'll kill us in our sleep.

Are you afraid of the people's vendetta?

Okay. We steal bread
from starving widows and orphans.

Bitch,
daughter and granddaughter of a bitch!

I want my wine chilled. Is that clear?

By the way, Gennarino,
Brezhnev likes it iced too.

And if it's too warm,
you get sent to Siberia.

-That clear, dear comrade?
-What a bitch.

She pisses me off.

-What's this?
-What?

What's this?

Coffee, signora.

-Warmed up?
-Yes.

Thanks, but I want fresh coffee.
Thank you.

He's already getting sloppy.
Typical Southerner.

-Listen, boss —
-What?

-That lady, the blonde lady —
-Who?

The blonde who rented the boat.

-Mrs. “Panzetti.”
-Lanzetti.

She called me a sloppy Southerner.

-So?
-Look, boss,

she can call her husband that,
but from me, she'll get a slap.

Can't you grin and bear it for a month?
The pay's too good. Shut up.

Fine, fine.

That fucking fascist bitch
had better watch out.

If she screws me,
I'll screw her back, twofold.

When a man is positive —

He must first protect

His own dignity

Are you making fun of me?

This is a Vatican country, my dears,
and we know who's responsible.

Sure. The communists in '48.

Yes, my dear asshole.

The communists, who embraced the Vatican,

breaking the anti-Church tradition.

Even de Gaulle criticized them.

There's only de Gaulle left.

Yes, and the Mafia.

On the level? You only have eyes for him.

Yes, it's true. I'm crazy for him.
I love him. I find him sexy. I adore him.

Geez, where'd you get that number?

A simple get-up for the boat?

You look almost like the Pope.

The party wouldn't approve,
but you sure look cute.

Those ugly military pants.

These are Bermudas. Very chic.

Oh, God. Bermuda.

What's so funny?

What the hell are you laughing about?
I don't get it.

Low window and cruel mistress

How much I have sighed for you

Oh, beautiful, when

!/ hear your name

Look at the snow

Is that Gennarino singing?

What a mellifluous voice.

Communists have hearts too?
Really? You don't say.

Pippo, ask Gennarino
if Stalin played the balalaika

while signing death sentences.

Gennarino is thinking about home,
not Stalin.

Don't worry. She's just joking.

Why don't you quit playing
Marie-Antoinette?

You're boring and vulgar.

-You talk like a fascist.
-You're right.

So we're on to insults.

A fascist. How kind.

-Go on, play.
-I pass.

-Full.
-Of what?

Kings. Just luck.

They insult me because I don't submit
to political terrorism.

I don't hide behind Marxism.

Who's hiding?
I'm just a guest with no money.

You're a moralist.

The world was changed by people
with maids and butlers.

Oh, listen.
| never doubted that Marx had servants.

Listen to that.

No. Overcooked.

The spaghetti is overcooked.

How did you manage that?

You should have paid more attention.

-No?
-Yes.

I'm sorry.

Oh, he’s sorry?

He couldn't care less.

-She’s a cat on wires.
-How’s that? What’s up?

That industrial bitch
is pissed off about the pasta.

-Suits me fine.
-She wants it al dente.

Forget it. It's not so bad.

I'm hungry, so I think it's good.

You too?

Well, enjoy it. I'm on a diet today.

Was the spaghetti overdone, ma'am?

I guess Gennarino wants to punish us
because we represent capitalism.

If it weren't for you,
we'd be in a factory

sweating for slave wages.

But while we wait for the revolution,

just for once, cook the spaghetti right.

Of course.

Next time, cook it right! Understand?

What fantastic water.

It really is paradise here.

-Pippo.
-Here I am.

We got great fresh fish.

We can make a fresh fish soup.

Don't overdo the pepper this time.

Last time there was much too much.

You need pepper. Okay,
this time I'll go easy on the pepper.

Bitching about the fish soup too.

Going to put the pepper anyhow.

-Would madam care for coffee?
-By the way, Pippo...

Excuse me, I have something
of a delicate nature to tell you.

Before serving meals,
make sure to change your T-shirt.

-They stink to high heaven.
-You are right.

-I'd like some coffee, cold.
-Coming up.

Filthy bitch!

I'll show her how I change my shirt.

Just wait and see how I change
my sweaty T-shirt.

What kind of shirt is that? He's gone mad.

-What's he put on his head?
-She wants fresh shirts?

I'll take the coffee up myself
to that fucking bitch.

-Coffee for the industrial whore.
-What a boatload of jerks.

-Your coffee, madam.
-Thank you.

What on earth have you got on?

Didn't you tell us to change our shirts?

Are you trying to be funny?

Me, funny?

I always fuck up.

Going to bed, love?
I'll join you in a minute.

-Night.
-Night all.

-Aren't you playing tonight?
-With these stakes?

I'm coming too.

They're playing for thousands.
They're crazy.

-Good night.
-Good night.

Good night.

Good night, Pippo.

What's new, boss?

Did you get a load of that?

The husband goes to bed,
and the wife ends up gambling.

I'd kick my wife in the ass.
Straight to bed.

They're not men, they're mice.
These husbands are wimps,

and the women take advantage
of their freedom.

Give a woman an inch,
and she takes a mile.

Husband's in bed,
and that bitch is drinking and gambling.

Happy families.

Excuse me, Gennarino,
what do you do at home?

- I go drinking and gambling.
-And your wife goes to bed.

-But I'm a man.
-They just do the opposite.

Exactly. Some system.

The shitheads are ruining women.

And then who'll wash our underwear?

Gennarino,
I found this in the brunette's cabin.

I think it's hashish.

I knew something was up.

There had to be something. Drugs, eh?

Is it hashish? Let's see.

-And?
-This is marijuana.

Marijuana.

-Ever tried the stuff?
-Are you nuts?

-Shall we try some?
-What do you mean?

You might like it, get hooked,
and end up in jail!

Don't dramatize things.

-Let me try some.
-No, sir.

I'll keep this. Go to bed.

Fuck off.

Our only chance for an orgy. Fuck off.

Go to sleep, you jerk.
He wants an orgy. Idiot.

The asshole is looking for kicks
with six kids and a pregnant wife yet.

Think this yacht is a den of vice?

This fool wants an orgy with marijuana.

And below deck, there's a gambling joint.

If they shit with me,
I'll call the fucking cops.

I'm going on deck for a minute.

Too much smoke in here.

Ah, fresh air.

I'm dying of heat.

-What time is it?
-Raise the sail. Hurry!

Give it here.

-In a minute.
-No time to waste. Move it!

The wind's getting up. Come on.

It's all tangled up.

What time is it?

-It's seven o'clock.
-Seven in the evening?

-Yes.
-Oh, Christ! Seven in the evening.

That's impossible.

Raffaella, you finally got up.

For goodness' sake.

You should have woken me up.
I slept all day.

-It was six this morning.
-Where are the others?

They left a long time ago.

They went to the caves in the dinghy.

Get the other one ready.

I'll join them for a swim.

-You want to go now?
-Why not?

I'll bring a sweater with me
in case it gets cold.

Well, Pippo, is the dinghy ready?

-Gennarino!
-What?

Get the little boat ready.
The lady wants to go out.

The rubber dinghy? At this hour?

-Yes.
-It's late.

-Who said so?
-An asshole.

The current is going the wrong way.

-So?
-So nothing.

The caves are pretty far.

And the sun is going down.

So what?

So nothing.

It would be better to turn back.

-Why?
-Just to be safe.

It's nothing to me.
Just thought I'd warn you.

-It's getting dark.
-Ridiculous.

Get moving.

There'll be sun for another half hour.

I told you so.

Fine, Gennarino.
So you told me, and I told you.

Are you scared?

Me? Scared?

I'm not. It's great fun.

I knew it.

St. Christopher had nothing better
to do than break our balls.

Oh, great.

Are the spark plugs wet?

Damn it.

Just look at that. Perfect.

That son of a fucking bitch.

That bitch of a fucking son of a bitch.

-Why are you muttering?
-"m cursing to myself.

Nothing to do with you.

If only we could spot the others.

But that's asking too much.

This asshole of a boat.

What's happening?

Who knows? Signora, I don't.

That's just great.

This piss pot of an engine.

Is it broken?

It doesn't work.

I was destined to miss my swim today.

-Do something.
-I am.

Imagine that.

-Is there any hope?
-Where there's life, there's hope.

Well, have we got gas?

Yes, there's gas.

-Nothing.
-Well, then, we'll wait.

Fortunately, the sea's calmed down.

What a situation!

Oh, boy —

If only Pippo were here.
He knows about motors.

Just my luck.

Have we drifted off course?

I told you the wind was changing.

-What difference does that make?
-All the difference.

I'm not arguing. Try to do something.

Not much can be done.

What do you mean not much can be done?

You just don't know what to do.

Oh, God preserve us.

Why go out with a motor
if you don't know anything about it?

What really gets me is incompetence.

This amateur approach everyone
has nowadays.

Whatever. No use getting upset.

It's cold too.

Thank God there's another sweater.

Be my guest.

-It smells really bad.
-Naturally. It's mine.

Excuse me?

What a lovely adventure.

Imagine, it's almost dark.

Not to worry.
The others will be coming soon.

-Let's hope so anyway.
-Yes, let's hope so.

Why did they have to choose tonight
to sail around?

When they realize we're out,
they'll come looking.

Let's hope so.

What do you mean, “Let's hope so”?

“Hope” means “hope.”

It's a big sea, and the current is strong,
and we'll be drifting.

Do something.

I can't see anymore.

-Aren't there any oars?
-Yes, but where shall we row?

Keep on the lookout.

Keep on the lookout?

For what exactly do you want me to watch?

You're the sailor, not me.

Well, it's dark.

- I did warn you.
-No, my dear man.

I wasn't warned the motor
would break down.

Do you think I'd have come otherwise?

Whatever. What's done is done.

No use being a Jonah about it.

They'll come for us.

What a face!

Do we have a flare gun?

-No, we don’t.
-1 might have known.

Can't depend on anything.

No use dramatizing.

They'll be here soon.

Let's hope so.

Let's hope so, yes!

Look what that stupid bitch
has got us into.

Why did it have to happen to me?

Let's see what's wrong
with this fucking carburetor.

Where's he gone to?

Where on earth is that guy?

Gennarino!

Gennarino!

Oh, help!

Help!

Have a nice swim?

- I dropped the fucking knife.
-What?

What did you say?

-My knife fell overboard.
-All by itself?

Why can't we see anyone?

Where are we?

Not even a sign of land.

Bloody hell.

Why don't those shits come and get us?

Why haven't they come to get us?

What have they been doing all night?
Nothing!

The sea is vast,

but it's nothing compared
to the stupidity of people.

They're probably sitting on
their fat asses waiting.

Nothing, ma'am. Didn't say a thing.

As usual.

They have everything on that yacht:

charts, maps, radar, helicopters.

Why don't they come for us?

They could have found us in five minutes.

They're all incompetent morons.

No initiative.

They'd get lost in a glass of water.

They're probably there,
patiently waiting for us.

Forget the motor.

It’s quite obvious you’re incapable.

Oh, give up.

It's so irritating.

Tomorrow.

Mule-headed.

It's high time.

Finally, it's working.

I'd call it luck.

It was high time.

Step on it. Let's get back. I'm thirsty.

-Which way should we head?
-Excuse me. You're asking me?

I'm taking no responsibility.

Come on. Excuse me, but why involve me?

What do I know? You're the sailor.
Why ask me?

I mean,
real sailors know their way around.

What do I know?

Use the stars, the sun?

-At least try to do that.
-“Try to do that.”

Let's try not to end up in Africa.

-Let's hope so.
-What do you mean “hope”?

-Which way are you going?
-You tell me.

Want to go left or right?

Just tell me.

-Are you trying to be funny?
-Who's trying?

If you say left, we'll go left.

That's the last straw.

I want no responsibility.

You're just burning gas.

Tell me what I am supposed to do.

Shall we stop and take the sun?

-Do you want to stop for a swim?
-Go that way.

I'm not afraid to take the responsibility.

Let's hope for the best.

And stop that doom-and-gloom business.

Come here, fish.

Got you, you little bastard.

A sardine.

A nice, fat sardine.

-Want some?
-No. Just the look...

It's disgusting. I'll vomit.

It'll help ward off thirst and hunger.

Forget it. Never.

Okay, just wait a bit.

I'll add a little salt.

Come on. Try it.

Go on.

I suggest you eat it because...

-How disgusting!
-Give it here.

You threw it away. Why?

I'd have eaten it.

It took three hours to catch!

With my bare hands.

And you throw it away.

Never mind.

Fasting is good for you.

You'll lose weight and cleanse the system.

So the dietitians say.

No good looking at me like that.

Your Southern women
lose their shape by the age of 20.

At 30, they look 50. Worse than the Turks.

What a dirty look.

You should make them diet.

They're on a constant diet called poverty.

Now we're on to politics.

It's so boring.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Oh, God. Oh, God!

Help!

-Give me that whistle.
-Help!

Now the whistle's gone overboard too.

Help! We’re shipwrecked!

Help! Help!

They can't hear you.
The wind's against us.

Isn't there something we can do?

Can't we try rowing?

With this current?

Calm down.

Mercy, the boat is rocking like crazy.

I hope the weather doesn't change.

All we need now is a storm.

The cigarettes are soaked.

No cigarettes and there's no gas.
Just great.

Patience.

What are you standing there for?

Make like a sail instead of talking.

A sail?

A body sail?

What nonsense.

If we were sideways perhaps,
but that's idiotic.

A sail.

Sails to take us where?

-Which way?
-Nobody knows.

I had to get shipwrecked
with a stupid sailor.

Fine, fine. We'll play sails.

But blowing which way?

Are we headed south?

We'll end up in Africa.

We might meet that delightful Qaddafi.

That would really be wild.

What if we're still lost tomorrow?

I can't stand another night of this!

I don't feel so good.

What will we do
if we're still lost tomorrow?

Asleep.

Asleep. He's some help.

Being shipwrecked is one thing,

but with this Sicilian!

Give me patience.

Land!

Land ahead.

Excuse me, that's land.

Hurry. If the wind changes, we might get —

Caught in the current?

No danger of that.

We'll be there in a half hour.

But we must be careful of the rocks.

Because of the boat?

That's ridiculous.

They even landed
on the shores of Normandy with these.

As advertised,

“Practically unsinkable.”

I'll sue the company.

Unsinkable my ass.

Help.

Help!

I'm coming.

-Help.
- I'm coming.

My lady,
one needs patience in such situations,

yes or no?

Rather awkward here.

Careful, it's pretty rugged.

I'll go ahead and look around.

-You wait here.
-Not on your life.

God forbid.

You might get lost and not find me again.

No, no. I'll come along too, sweetheart.

we’ll find a house,

a motel, a street, and hotel —

Oh, Madonna!

This nightmare is finally over.

God, do I want some coffee.

Fresh, of course.

Hey, that coffee might be a problem.

Can't hear you.

About that coffee...

-I'll have to wait.
-Why?

This island is wild and deserted.

What do you mean deserted?

There's nothing or nobody here.

But that's impossible.

we’re not in the South Pacific.

We're in the middle of the Mediterranean.
It's not possible!

It's possible.

Listen, lady. I'm not just some punk.

If I tell you it's deserted,
it's deserted.

I don't believe it. Look who's talking.

Cape Kennedy observation tower.

You must be mistaken.

I know what I saw.

Believe me.
There's not a living soul around.

It's a fucking desert island.
Not a soul in sight.

It's not possible. Look again.

This could be Sardinia, Sicily, the Alps.

-Go and look again.
-Back up there?

-No way, ma'am.
-What's that?

I'm not going up there again.
I saw right the first time.

Very well, Gennarino.

If you want an argument,
I'll give you one.

Why should I trust you?

You get lost at sea, break the motor.

You're prickly and vague
like all Southerners.

Why should I trust you,
as if you were Swiss?

Enough already. Leave it be.

One thing is clear,
you can't get blood out of a stone.

-What did you say?
-Nothing.

No, repeat what you said.

What is this?

Getting bullish, are we?

I said,
“You can't get blood out of a stone.”

Listen, Lady Raffaella “Zampetti,”
you've busted my balls!

I'll do whatever the fuck I want!

Fucking bitch.

Who the hell do you think you are?

Fuck off!

-Peasant!
-Fuck you!

Ignorant slob!

Go fuck yourself!

Just wait till we get back.

I'll fix you.

There are certain things I can't stand.

-Shithead!
-Whore!

I'll show him.

Where shall I go now?

-Ignorant pig.
-Bitch.

Cockroach.

Whore. Tramp.

Slut. Parasite.

They'll all be hanged. And soon too.

Ugly worm.

Asshole.

So what do you call someone like that?

Shithead!

Big-assed capitalist.

Bitch. Whore. Shag bag.

Shithead of all shitheads.

Cunt. Cocksucker.

A guy can take just so much.

But there comes a moment
when he gets real pissed.

Immature coward.

Sub-proletarian.

He's forgotten his place.

Who does he think he is?

It's all over with Gennarino.

You fucking slut.
You're up shit creek now.

Now the shit's gonna hit the fan.

Now we'll have fun, Signora “Panzetti.”

We'll suck some bitter dicks.

The slaves' revolt.

The storming of the Bastille.

Hooker. Harlot.

Whore and coquette.

This shit thinks he's Spartacus.

What a situation.

This ignorant lout!

Slag hag. Dick jerker.

And social democrat.

Hey, anybody home?

Anyone there?

Nobody home?

Nobody's home.

And what else could I expect
in this godforsaken place?

Here you are.

I can't get away from you,
for Christ's sake.

It's worse than Coca-Cola.

A fishnet.

Rotten.

Nothing here.

Nothing at all.

Okay, here we go.

You're a miserable, dirty, rotten coward.

Do what you like, but you'll be sorry.

There must be a law against it.

You'll go to jail for refusing to help
a person in need.

You eat but let others starve to death.

If there was a law against it,
all the rich would be in jail.

Imagine that!

But since there's no law,
only the poor are locked up.

Communist prick!

If that animal thinks he can
take advantage now,

he's got another thing coming.

With all these birds about,
there must be some eggs somewhere.

I hate nature.

I knew it.

Proletarians go crazy

as soon as they get a taste of power.

They blackmail you, starve you,
take advantage.

Worse than Hitler, they are.

If that Sicilian savage thinks

I'll come begging on my hands and knees,
he'd better think again.

I'd rather die of hunger, I swear to God.

Sell me that fish.

I'll pay you whatever you want.

Do you hear me?

Are you playing deaf or what?

I know you're a rotten louse,

but you won't let me die of hunger,
will you?

Okay, let's be reasonable.

You're the one with the upper hand
for the moment.

How much do you want for that fish?

$2007? $3007?

So how much do you want for it?

Enough with the jokes, okay?

You're exaggerating now.

I don't feel so good.

I hurt my foot too.

How about a hundred dollars, swine?

Keep the insults coming.

I know it's hard being the underdog.

There's just one small point.

- I'm not selling this fish.
-But why?

I've decided to do as you lot do.

What lot?

Yes, lady.

You burn apples and oranges
to keep prices high.

Isn't that so?

Murderer!

Oh, no.

I'm just an ignorant
and incompetent piece of shit.

You and your kind are a highly organized
bunch of murderers.

You're even smoking my cigarettes! Thief!

You threw them away, didn't you?

The lobster was tasteless.

Listen to me, my good woman.

Lesson number one:

You can't buy this fish for love or money.

If you want food to eat,
you have to earn it.

How exactly?

-Wash my underpants!
-Never!

There.

There they are.

I can't get them any cleaner.

I feel faint.

I feel bad. Give me that fish.

You don't deserve it.

Anyway, the word is “please”
and “Would you be so kind?”

Please, Gennarino, would you be so kind?

What do you mean, “Gennarino'?

I'm Mr. Carunchio to you.

Mr. Carunchio.

Mr. Carunchio. Sure, that's better.

Here's your fish.

This is all so ridiculous. And demeaning.

Maybe so, but on the other hand,
I have no washing machine here.

And after all,
somebody has to wash my underwear.

Lady Never Shit
never had to wash underpants before.

-She was always above that.
-Where are you off to?

Wait for me. I told you I've hurt my foot.

Now who's the underdog?

The lady is reduced to washing underpants.

-Wait for me, please.
-But work ennobles man so.

And ennobles woman even more.

Mr. Carunchio!

| don’t understand why you won’t help me.

I've hurt my foot. Can't you see?

Mr. Carunchio!

I've hurt my foot.

Where are you going?

Be kind, please.

What's got into him?

I'm limping.

I called him by his surname,
and he still won't listen, the peasant.

Now where's he going? Listen to me.

There's a house.

How divine.

That's something else.

Wait for me.

At least we're not out in the cold.

But what are you doing?

Excuse me, are you locking me out?

It's getting dark, and I'm cold.

I'll catch my death.
Please be kind to me, Mr. Carunchio.

In what way?

I hope you're not getting any wild ideas.

I know you rich bitches
like a bit of hanky-panky.

Of course that's what's going through
your head, isn't it?

Let's see it from your point of view.

I let myself be shipwrecked
in this shithole

so I could go to bed with you!

A loathsome beast like you!

A perfect example
of the Mediterranean macho male.

-Have you ever looked at yourself?
-Sure, lady.

I'm considered a first-class specimen
of my species.

Women of quality can't get enough of me.

They've got more femininity
in their little fingers

than you in your whole body.

With all your millions.

Pig.

Rude, boorish slob.

Ugly Abyssinian!

Just look what a situation
I find myself in.

-I'm cold.
-Cover yourself in leaves like sows do.

I don't feel well.

Ugly, ignorant, dark-skinned,
puffed-up, ridiculous little man.

Everything I've always hated.

Did you know I find you revolting?

Did you hear me?

Did you get the message?
I find you revolting.

I'll catch pneumonia,
but I couldn't care less.

Maria, where's my coffee?

How disgusting! How horrible.

What pleasure do you get out of
torturing a poor soul like this?

Poor soul, my ass.

Okay, rich bitch.

Okay. Get on with it.

Get to work.

He who doesn't work, doesn't eat.

Get in there and clean.

For the love of God.

Aren't you tired of playing this sick,
sadistic game?

Why are you acting like this?

Isn't it enough
that we're in this crazy situation?

Why are you making me pay
for all the injustices in life?

What do you get out of it?

If you're kind to me, I'll tell them
when they eventually find us,

and you'll be well compensated.

Enough is enough.

And who says anybody's going to find us?

Where did you get that idea?

What if we're stranded on this island
for another six years?

-I’ll Kill myself.
-Go ahead. It’s your funeral.

But if you want to stay alive,
you have to eat and to eat, you must work.

-You're hurting me!
-I'm not going to wait on you.

Oh, no, my pretty. The party's over.

The tables are turned. You serve me.

Woman was born to serve man,
not the other way around.

That really hurts.

And this is only the beginning,

until you realize
who's your lord and master.

Kiss my hand. Kiss my hand.

-I beg your pardon?
-Kiss it.

Fucking industrial bitch,
you made me spit blood on that lousy boat,

and last night you even told me
that I disgust you.

Kiss your master's hand.

Otherwise get out of my sight
and never come here sniveling again.

Because I shall have no pity.

You're a loathsome worm.

Lesson number two:

You understand now, woman,

that I'll no longer allow you
to insult me!

Kiss it.

Kiss your master's hand.

Kiss it.

Now get to work.

Run!

Run or the fish will escape.

-Just a second.
-Run.

It's not so easy trying to run here.

It's so slippery,
I might even break my leg this time.

When I call,
it means you have to jump to it and run.

All right, all right. I'm coming. Just —

Quiet. Don't answer back, woman.

-What do you want from me?
-When I call, it's urgent.

What race do you want me to run?

Shut up, bitch.

Just do as you're told. That's all.

What a lousy disposition he's got.

Here's the water.

Why are you sitting down?

Because I did as you said,
and now I deserve a rest.

Stand up.

I want you to wait on me.

You never invited me to sit down
to eat with you on the yacht, did you?

Now it's my turn 10 be served.

Every dog has his day,
every servant his pay.

Or no?

Lady Never Shit.

“The wine is warm, the bread's cold,
the spaghetti is overcooked.

The coffee is warmed over.”

More, I'm still hungry.

All the crap I took from you
sitting at that table on the yacht.

And the way you looked down on us:

“Your T-shirts stink. How horrid.”

A little salt.

You made us sweat and smell even more
and feel like pigs.

It was run, run,

and change our T-shirts six times a day,
and why?

Because we offended madam's senses.

-Please, Gennarino.
-Gennarino?

Who gave you permission to call me that?
Mr. Carunchio!

What a nightmare.

Mr. Carunchio.

And without screwing up your nose.

-Water.
-It's right there.

But it’s warm.

Go get me some fresh from the spring.

Patience is a requisite.

Unfortunately, I want my water fresh.

Like the wine you always drank.

And hop to it. I'm thirsty.

The last of your cigarettes.

The best.

You threw them away, remember?

What are you looking at?

I'll look at you as much and as often
as I like. Got that, woman?

I'm getting an eyeful of your butt.

Aren't I just?

And so what?

And when you were all stretched out
on the yacht like pigs on a spit?

Tits to the wind.

Yes, roasting your tits.
Just as if we weren't there.

Just as if we were animals, not men.

And all the time you pigs knew full well
we were men.

You just enjoyed turning us on.

Remember?

Sure, you remember.

Industrial whore.

Give us a look at your tits now.

Go on, lower the drawbridge.

You hear me?

Pretending you don't?

Ashamed, are you?

Suddenly the lady is ashamed.

Why are you ashamed now
when you weren't before?

Got a kick out of it, didn't you?

Go on, admit it.

Seeing us there, hot for you in the sun,

depraved bunch of rich,
naked bitches provoking us.

Cockteasers.

-Strip!
-You're disgusting!

Come on. Finally I get an answer
out of you, fucking bitch.

-Leave me alone!
-I'll give you the lesson you need.

-Come here.
-Help!

-Scumbag!
-Come back here!

Help!

She's crying for help, stupid bitch.

And who's going to help you?

Let go of my hair. My hair. No!

Pig!

I'll kick the hell out of you.

Where are you running? Come back.

Where the hell are you going, cunt?

You'll pay for everything.

Not my hair. Let go!

Aims straight for the balls, she does.

I see, our fine lady.

And I'll kick the shit out of you.

Fucking social democrat whore.

Enough already!

I'll tell you when it's enough.

I haven't even started yet.

-Come here.
-Coward.

Monster! Scumbag!

Monster!

Scumbag! Let go of me!

Don't you understand
you have to pay for everything?

Leave me in peace.

Why do you want me to pay
for all the injustices of life?

Let go!

It's a fixation, a fucking fixation!

Monster.

You have to pay for everything.

I give up!

You give up? Too easy by half.

There's a cliff.

This is for the hard times we fell into,

and this is for not paying taxes
and taking your money to Switzerland.

But what's it got to do with me?

This is for the hospitals
poor folk can't get into.

Which is sometimes just as well,
as when they do, they die.

Why take all this out on me?

Am I responsible for all the ills
of the world?

Yes.

And this is for the high prices of meat,
cheese,

bus tickets, sales tax and gasoline.

And this is for the increase in oil prices
and pension tax.

And TV licenses too.

This is for VAT and surtax and income tax.

And this is for making us frightened
every time we hear the doorbell.

Come back here. Where are you going?

Come here,
because the best is still to come.

-What are you doing?
-Now for the intimate stuff.

] -No!
Oh, yes, my lady.

I'm going to rip off your panties.

Mission accomplished. Here we go.

If you knew how much
I want to split open this perfumed pussy.

To ram it in and tear you apart.

To let you feel how much of a man I am.

You've never known a real man, have you?

Depraved, industrial, cock-teasing bitch.

| hate you, but I'm hot for you.

And you know that
because I lusted for you on the yacht.

And you can't wait to feel me inside you,
can you?

Keep still because there's no escape
this time.

Admit it.

Admit the feeling
you have deep in your gut.

That you're longing for it.

Listen to her moan.

Like a frog crushed by a wagon wheel.

Say how much you want it.

Say it. Say yes, yes!

You're hot for it, eh?

Can't wait, eh? You randy cow.

Well, the answer is no.

I call the shots, and I say no.

An ugly, ignorant bastard like me,

who you told
10 go change his sweaty 1- shirt,

and called a dirty, sloppy Southerner,

and who was always beneath you

and disgusted you, wants more than “yes”!

You have to fall in love with him.

Hook, line and sinker it must be.

Over the moon it must be.

A slave of love, you must become.

You must worship at my feet,
writhe like a worm.

Beg me for mercy,
feel the flames of love burn in your gut.

Feel the pain of passion,
worse than the worst illness.

Feel me under your skin,
spinning round in your brain.

Deep in your heart and your belly.

I must become your god.

Have I made myself understood?

Passion or nothing. Passion or nothing!

You've got a long way to go
before you know Gennarino Carunchio!

I feel like that rabbit.

You Killed it.

You're really cruel.

But how beautiful you are.

How feminine.

Sweet as honey.

Docile and tender.

Incredible.

A suckling pig to get your teeth into.

You kill me, my love.

No, no.

No, you must call me “sire.”

Yes, call me “sire.” I like it.

Sire, master, beat me. Kill me.

Do what you will with me,
but hold me tight.

I'm beside myself.

Your words send ripples of pleasure
through my being.

But tell me the truth. Tell me the truth.

Did you say these things
to your cuckold of a husband?

What do you rich folks say in bed?

How do you make love?

Tell me, whore, do you have orgies?

Do you do naughty things?

Do you talk dirty?

Everyone knows you have gang bangs
and get up to all kinds of mischief.

Filthy rich and filthy pigs on drugs.

With this angelic face, pure as snow.

How many times have you cheated
on your slob of a husband?

Who says a rich woman's automatically
a whore? The Communist party?

You hurt me. What for?

Don't you ever talk about the party
in that derogatory way again.

I'm not thinking about them now.

The party is sacred.

Wash your mouth out.

You're not on the yacht now.

Idiot.

The party is sacred, and you're profane,
and I'm going to fuck you.

I'm going to fuck my beautiful lady,
my rich bitch.

Well-heeled, slut-cum-slave.

Why?

Why?

Because.

No, please, don’t stop.

I like to see you like this.

Horny for it.

No, please, my love.

No.

When I say so.

How many lovers have you had?

You and that angel face. Confess.

How many have you had? Confess.

You're the first.

With that sultry tone?

Liar. Whore. Liar.

Lady, I'm going to fuck you.

Darling, are you awake?

Omelet of seagulls' eggs garnished
with rabbit fat,

prepared to nourish my adored lover.

My lord and master, Mr. Carunchio.

It's the first omelet of my life,
so it probably tastes horrible.

Taste it and see.

Well, my lord, is it disgusting?

Mildly disgusting.

-Must I consider this a compliment?
-The omelet?

No, the floral decoration.

-More or less.
-What a feather brain you are.

No working-class woman would have
thought of a floral wreath.

You're right.

I no longer know myself.

I feel drunk, dizzy,
just as if I'd been ravaged by Turks,

plundered by pirates,
carried off by a sheikh.

I'm full of primordial sensations.
Swept off my feet.

Really.

You can't begin to understand.

It's been amazing for me.

And for you?

Well, not bad actually.

Wise guy. Silly idiot.

What's all this?

-Are we back to being familiar?
-No, you're not silly. I was joking.

-By now —
-By now what?

What’s going on in your head?

Don't get any ideas.

Woman is a love thing,
an object of pleasure for the working man.

-That's what you are for me.
-A whorehouse tramp then?

-A whore. Why not?
-Not very flattering though.

“Whore,” on the one hand,
might seem an insult,

but on the other, it becomes a compliment.

Or no?

You've never had it so good, eh?

My dear Lady “Panzetti,”
that expression of complete satisfaction

was never on your face on the yacht.

Hel —

Mr. Carunchio!

-Mr. Carunchio?
-What now?

I love you.

Mr. Carunchio, I adore you.

A yacht sailed by just now,
but I didn't hail it.

I hid and waited for it to go away.

You're crazy.

Yes, completely crazy for you, my love.

Swept away by an unusual destiny, a dream.

I've never felt so good.

I don't want it to end.

I love you.

I'm mad for you.

What's that for?

For one of two reasons.

If you're lying, it's for the lie.

Otherwise, it's for telling the truth,
but not informing me of the fact.

You must tell me everything,
because I'm your lord and master.

I'm the one who decides whether or not
to hail a yacht. Got it?

Come here.

Come here.

I said come here.

You've got to get it through your head
once and for all

that I'm the one who makes the decisions
around here.

And I'm not joking.

-You hurt me.
-But now you're getting over it?

-You're not getting over it?
-No.

-You don't feel better?
-No.

Well, then come here,
and I'll help you get over it.

You're a cruel beast, always hitting me.

I'm black and blue.

But we make wild love afterwards.

Everything's better afterwards, no?

You're a bit of a sadist, my love.

Don't you see how much more beautiful
you are when I beat you?

How bright your eyes become?

Two lamps glowing with desire and lust.

Who are you? What kind of animal?

Serpent? Panther? Sluttish pig?
Who are you?

Darling,

you are the original man
who nature meant for us women

before everything changed.

My love,

the first should have been you.

The first...

The first?

You say that to somebody
who's taken second place.

The first...

the one and only.

I'm only saying
that I'm only sorry I''m not a virgin.

I would have liked you
to be the one to open me,

to put your stamp on me.

My love, I beg you...

sodomize me.

Sodomize me.

Darling, I beg you.

Sodomize me.

I don't know.

I'm not in the mood.

Please, I beg you.

My love, you're my first real man.

Sodomize me.

Listen here,
you fucking middle-class bitch.

You're doing this on purpose,
using long words to make me feel small.

What filthy thing are you asking me?

-NO —
“What the fuck can it be?

Sorry, my love.

Sorry, my ass.

What a superior way to speak.

Yes, I'm ignorant and proud of it.

I swear, my love,

I spoke like that because
it's so difficult to say.

Anyway, I have no idea
of the depraved things you lot do.

What is this thing, “sodomize me”?
What is it?

Sodomize me,

which means...

Tell me in simple words.

How you love to complicate things.

Call a spade a spade.

Darling,

the language of love won't permit it.

It would become vulgar.

There's no vulgarity in love.

You middle-class snobs
have made everything vulgar.

How do you get certain ideas?

Like that.

Don't think you can say such things to me.

Coming on with your airs and graces.

I only ever saw that expression
once before.

It was on the face of a bored child
at a party.

What a load of crap you tell me.

Why don't you learn to sew instead?

It's a very beautiful poem. It's like you.

Bollocks!

Are we back to talking complicated?

When you start talking, I don't trust you.

Anyway,
who in his right mind trusts a woman?

But I'm not just any woman anymore.

-"M your woman.
-More clever words.

If we hadn't been shipwrecked,
where would you and me be now?

Me, poor black trash,
and you, rich white bitch.

You wouldn't even have given me
the time of day.

You, the great lady,
and me, a mere minion.

Everyone in his own place.

How unjust you are.

-I've never loved anyone before.
-Bullshit.

You and me are an item
only because we're here, and that's it.

Consumed with passion on this island,
but I'd like to see...

her ladyship out for a stroll

in Milan

with this uncouth lout.

The mind boggles.
Imagine how long it would last.

- Might love you even more.
-Even more?

So you were lying when you said
you loved me completely.

Try to be precise when you make
certain declarations.

Because if you lie...

I'll kill you.

-You’ll kill me?
-I’ll kill you.

-Shall we get married?
-No.

That's only for the birds.

I want something of yours.

-I want this.
-My earring. Yes, yes.

I'll fix it.

Just a moment.

There you are.
Burt Lancaster in The Crimson Pirate.

Yes.

Caught me in the act, eh? Scamp that I am.

Take it easy. There.

I've taken the bare minimum.

Don't worry.

No, let's hide.

Even if they come,
we'll hide in the little chapel.

We can't leave the wood on the beach.

No, please.

Tell me that you love me.
I want to know the truth.

-The whole truth.
-What more proof do you need?

The way we are now,
it's as if we were born here.

You said so yourself.

The world's built in such a cruel way,
it could change us again.

The only thing worth saving
is you and me right here.

-Come here.
-No.

No. I want to know

if Lady Raffaella Pavone Lanzetti
thinks the same as you.

What do you care what we were before?

What happened to us here is a miracle,
my love.

Once in a lifetime.

Why go back and become part
of that monstrous scenario again?

It transforms people.

My love, I beg you. Let's stay here.

First, I need proof.

Then I'll do whatever you want.

-First I need proof.
-Why won't you believe I only want you?

You're afraid, aren't you?

Yes.

That's why I need proof.

How stubborn he is.

The sailor's below deck, feeding his face.

-And Madam Pavone Lanzetti?
-In my cabin, fixing her face, poor thing.

How fantastic. We've saved two castaways.

Something that only happens at sea.

The sea opens a door
to countless adventures.

It's an adventure in itself.

Very true.

And also very romantic.

It's an adventure in itself.

How cute the little sailor is.

What was it like being shipwrecked with
Signora Pavone Lanzetti? What happened?

-Nothing.
-What do you mean nothing? Impossible.

What do you want me to say?

If I say nothing, it's nothing.

She's the biggest ball breaker
that sails the Mediterranean seas.

You can't have any balls left, no?

A hungry, thirsty woman
with no home comforts —

At the beginning, maybe...

-And then...
-She calmed down?

The fight for survival
took the ginger out of her.

-She was calm as a dove.
-Oh, no.

-She trusted me.
-She trusted you?

Fantastic.

You deserve a medal.

Her husband's sure to give you one.

We called him,
and he's on his way by helicopter.

That must be him now. Yes.

It’s an official helicopter. Look.

Thank you.

Not at all.

Well, Gennarino, here you are.

Here he is.

A glass for Gennarino.

Good.

My love! My precious!
My sweetheart! My angel!

Do you have to scream like that?

Finally I can hug you again.

Stop making a spectacle of yourself.
Everybody's looking at us.

I thought you were dead!

If you knew how many tears
you made me shed!

That's enough.

I'm alive and kicking,
but please stop carrying on like that.

-Pleased to meet you, signora.
-Honored, I'm sure.

I'm happy to meet you too.

And to think we might never have met.

-I mean, if they hadn't saved us.
-Exactly.

Yes, that's true.

-Please give this to your husband.
-Very well.

Thank you, Mr. Pavone Lanzetti.

-Thank him on my behalf too.
-Thank you.

-Whatever you need, don't hesitate.
-Good-bye, signora.

I can't believe I'm actually touching you.

The children understood at once
when they saw me crying.

But they were jumping for joy
when they heard you were alive.

Poor kids.

-They wanted to come.
-That's all I needed.

You shouldn't have come either.

A wife should know her place.

-Are the kids okay?
-They want to hug their daddy again.

And I do too.

How kind everyone's been.

They booked us a room
at this little hotel. Over there.

The hotel of Good Hope.

Oh, the Good Hope.

Every now and then, someone arrives
at night and shoots himself.

What are you saying? It's very nice.

There's a lovely terrace restaurant
where we can dine like the rich.

Oh, | nearly forgot.

Mr. Lanzetti gave me this for you.

-What is it?
-I don't know.

Merciful heavens. A million lire.

How dare he?

And how dare you accept it?

-How was I supposed to know?
-Should have told him to give it to me.

That's how a serious woman behaves.

That shit bag thinks
he can offer us charity.

-Where are you going?
-There's something I have to do.

What about me? “Gennarooso”!

I'll wait for you at the Good Hope.
At the hotel!

A million lire.

I want a fantastic ring
with a precious stone.

A ring for a very refined person.

And it has to cost a million lire.

Not a penny more, not a penny less.

Here you are.

This one's worth more,
but I'll give you a special price.

Is it an engagement ring?

A divorce ring.

How are you?

Fine.

Signora Pavone Lanzetti, telephone.

Telephone.

It must be my mother.
She always finds me everywhere.

My love...

You can't do it, can you?

Shout out the truth in front of everyone.

You can't do it.

-Where are you?
-Just in front of you.

At the gas station in the port.

I can see you.

Listen.

You didn't pass the test, but never mind.

I don't give a shit anymore.

You know? Of course you know.

Listen.

On the quay to the right,
there's a fishing boat

near the customs office.

The fourth fishing boat.

It's called Santa Rosalia.

It belongs to a friend.

I spoke with him, and he agreed
to take us back to the island.

It leaves in a half hour at sunset.

I'll meet you there in a half hour.

Will you come?

Will you come?

Or have you changed your mind?

No, darling.

I love you more than ever.

Never loved you so much.

If you only knew.

Good. The rest doesn't matter.

In a half hour, on the Santa Rosalia.

You'll see, she'll protect us.

Shell guide us back to our island.

But the others? Your wife?

I already told you.
Nothing else matters to me.

I care about one thing.

You and me.

Your husband had the nerve to give me
a check for a million lire.

I wanted to throw it back in his face.

Tried to humiliate me with a tip.

But he didn't know he was dealing
with Gennarino Carunchio.

See you in a half hour.

My love.

Lady, this is for you.

-Who's it from?
-The man you were talking to.

Now do you understand, Lady Raffaella,
who Gennarino Carunchio is?

-Give me a hundred lire.
-What for?

I already paid you for running the errand.
Did you do a good job?

Yes, but give me another hundred.

I've got something I must give you.

-What is it?
-First the hundred.

Here you are.

The lady you sent the parcel to
told me to give you this.

The lousy slut!

Whore! Traitor!

To hell with you!

I curse the day I believed in you!

I knew I should never have trusted
a rich bitch like you!

Because the rich always screw you!

Industrial whore!

You leave me alone!

You leave me all alone.

Treacherous sea,

once you were my friend.

Now you've dashed all my hopes.

Sea, I spit on you.

-You betrayed me with that whore!
-You too?

Everyone saw you
chase after the helicopter.

And you spent all the money
on that blonde whore!

Don't overstep the mark.

Scumbag.

Go away!

Don't ever come back to the house.
Get the hell out.

Don't worry. I'm never coming home.

I'll never be back again.

I---

never want anything more to do
with the whole female race.

Enough is enough.

Thank God there's divorce now!

I want nothing more to do with you.

If I go off the deep end,

I'll throw myself into the sea.

I'm really glad I voted for divorce!

Whores.

One whore above me, one whore below me.

And the sea has turned traitor.

Where the fuck do I go from here?

END