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LOST AND BEAUTIFUL

Characters Sarchiapone - Campanian buffalo

Tommaso - shepherd and guardian of an abandoned palace

Pulcinella - traditional Campanian character,

intermediary between the living and the dead

Gesuino - shepherd and poet

The undersigned Tommaso Cestrone requests that Sarchiapone

is given the gift of speech so he may tell his own story

and the story of the lost and beautiful palace

that was rediscovered thanks to me. Sincerely, Tommaso Cestrone

As far as I'm concerned, I would have liked to have been born on the moon

or any other planet.

In fact nowhere could be worse than where I am now.

Not that our planet isn't good enough

as long as you're born with a good name

or great luck.

But that's not my case.

I was not born in a tree

or inside a comfy house.

My only roof was my mother's womb.

And occasionally an old floorboard, if I was lucky.

This is my story.

It's all I have and I cherish it dearly.

When I stop telling it,

it will be because I've gone once more to safety

on a distant star.

But for now it's still too early.

The undersigned Tommaso Cestrone,

having found a buffalo calf

in the area of San Tammaro...

- Carmine, where's Pasquale? - Over there.

What beautiful puppies!

Pasquale, I've found a buffalo calf, can you give me some milk?

We need to go over there.

- Here you go, Tommaso. - Thanks Pasquale, bye.

The palace has been abandoned.

Everyday people steal, at night.

Fireplaces, capitals...

Everything.

A car stopped once, it was February. "Who gave you this contract?" he said.

I was working outside with the bulldozer.

I told him: "I'm a volunteer." "Volunteer, eh!"

Two days later they blew up the wall and gate at home.

They poisoned my goats.

They burnt down my caravan.

They punctured the new car's tyres,

slashed with a knife.

I don't want to press on because we've hit a dangerous nerve.

I'm not leaving here until it lives.

Carditello must live on.

The Camorra protects us.

If the Camorra was there, it would have protected us.

The Camorra is honest, the State steals money.

They've even tainted the flag!

Shame on you! Shame on you!

Bastard!

You need to stamp on this bloody flag.

You need to stamp on it.

They should be ashamed.

...LET THEIR DEATHS BE NOT IN VAIN

How long have you looked after the palace?

Overall, for three years,

as a volunteer.

Before, people talked about the rubbish at the Carditello palace.

It became my obsession to remove it,

I was trying to save the palace.

Today, though, when you won't see even a plastic bottle...

It's worse,

because I see it immaculate,

but people can't go inside.

They stop at the gate, saying: "When is it opening?"

It will never open, because the judge never signs the licenses.

Who oversees your work?

My work?

It's out of my own pocket.

And the tools too.

And no one says thank you.

And who looks after your sheep?

I do, at 4am and then at 6pm.

My son helps me.

How much longer can you resist?

I want to see what happens to it,

I want to see if the palace lives or dies.

I want to see it live, but no one understands that.

How long is a life?

It's like the sheltered rest of a traveller along the road.

Tommaso went away for good

one night when Jupiter shone in the Leo constellation.

My kind owner went up there.

A bit earlier, at sunset,

I'd said goodbye to that animal lover for the last time.

And I was once again alone.

And though I already had a name,

without my kind owner to use it,

the only person interested in using it

was the damned Grim Reaper.

It was his obsession.

I think he lost his life because of the palace.

For me he still lives on in that place.

I brought him up.

He was a good person, a polite person,

respectful of everyone.

I'm sorry to say this, but it's what I feel.

Tommaso is dead not because of the Carditello palace.

Tommaso is dead because he was abandoned.

This morning, 25 December,

the Angel of Carditello was carried off by a heart attack.

After so much pressure defending his beloved palace,

his heart gave up.

I'M SUFFOCATING

I'M DYING

- We need to go now. - Hold on, Antonio.

Let's take these three as well.

It's getting dark! Let's take these and go.

Look, it's Pulcinella.

What do you want, Pulcinella?

Come here, let me stroke your hump, maybe it'll bring us a bit of luck.

Stroke it.

What is that thingy?

Can't you see? It's a bird call.

- A bird call? - Show him, Antonio.

Each colour is a call?

Are these the birds you've caught?

They're so beautiful.

Why don't you let them fly?

- And what will we eat? - Let them fly.

- Birds are made to fly. - And we should go hungry?

- What does he want, Antonio? - If I were you, I'd let them fly.

It's up to you.

Look at him!

Where are you going, Mascaron?

- What are you doing here, Pulcinella? - Where is Tommaso?

Tommaso's not here anymore.

- Where is he? - He's dead.

He died on Christmas Eve.

He'd said it: "As soon as all is in order here, I'll go."

- And who are you? - Who am I?

I'm the new caretaker, the State is here now.

- The State? - Look, they've even put the flag up.

- Did he leave me something? - What?

Did he leave something for me?

Come with me, Pulcinella, let's go.

Come on, hurry up.

There's no time to lose, move it.

Let's go, Mascaron.

You see this buffalo calf? It's for you.

For me?

You need to take it, it can't stay here.

Are you sure it's for me?

This buffalo is Tommaso's, the Angel of Carditello.

Come on, take it, hurry up.

Otherwise tomorrow they'll take it to the abattoir.

You know the males here... Understood?

Understood.

Ok, take care!

Take care!

Farewell, Pulcinella!

Farewell.

Where are you going with him?

To Tommaso's tomb, where the tree is.

- Where is Tommaso's grave? - For Tommaso's tomb...

...go straight, it's beneath the tree.

The Angel of Carditello is there.

Where?

All the way down there?

Ok.

Ok.

"September's come, let's go, it's migration time.

In the Abruzzi lands my shepherds

are leaving their summer folds, down they climb,

sloping toward the untamed Adriatic,

its brine as green as pastures in the mountains.

They have drunk deeply from the alpine fountains.

Native waters linger as solace in their exile hearts

and cheat the thirst that dogs them on their way.

Each is clutching a fresh-cut hazel crook.

They take the path their forefathers took

the old drove-road, which bears them to the plain

as if upon a silent current of grass.

And oh the trembling sea and the young swain shouting

at what he's never seen before!

The flock is moving now along the shore.

Around it, all the air is at a stand.

The sun has painted that living wool

so blond it's hard to tell it from the sand.

Splashing, tromping, sweet noise.

Ah, why am I not with my shepherds there?

Nothing, totally neglected.

Sarchiapone, this was once a lovely barn.

Now it's full of tyres.

You know who put them there?

You know nothing.

This was a beautiful barn, full of good people and now it's empty.

Let's go, there's nothing to eat here.

Perhaps thanks to my ancestors,

who had been so fond of humans

and served them with dedication,

once again the wind

turned my way.

And brought me a good friend.

He came from the unknown

and was ignorant of everything.

Like me, he didn't yet have a name.

He had the features of a Pulcinella

who since ancient times listened to the dead to speak to the living.

And followed orders from on high without understanding them.

I shared this fate as a servant with him.

I to humans,

he to immortals.

Trusting of the system which orders everything,

but which is too busy to stop and explain itself.

We can't take them, Sarchiapone.

It's no good looking the other way.

We can't take them.

I know, I'm sorry,

I'm sorry too.

They were unlucky.

They find themselves in this situation

and now they'll need a lot of luck.

Shall we go?

Do you want to stay here?

We need to go.

I know, I'm sorry too, there's a fair one too.

Look how lovely he is!

Should I leave you here too?

It's not far.

I know...

What should I do? What do you think?

You were entrusted to me by Tommaso

if not you'd end up like them. Let's go!

Come in, Pulcinella.

- Make yourself at home. - Thanks.

Sit down.

The lady told me I could sleep upstairs.

You can sleep upstairs.

My sister and I can't though

because our parents died there and it upsets me.

What are you doing with that worthless male calf?

You could have got a female, at least it produces milk.

I know, but...

I'm a doing a favour for a friend.

They kill them and sling them, because they're worth nothing.

I know, that's why I'm taking him far away, to safety.

- Do you want to eat with me? - Thanks, gladly.

I was born here and I must die here.

But everything was more beautiful once.

Really?

How come?

Before there was work, everybody was together in the fields,

nowadays you don't see anyone.

In the last shining lands of the south,

exists a hidden ministry

that defends nature from human beings.

A maternal spirit of unlimited power

to whose meticulous and perpetual care

the slumber of those sleeping peoples is entrusted.

If only for a moment that defence slackens,

if the sweet cold voices of human reason

could penetrate that nature,

it would be struck down.

Sleep, my Pulcinella.

Sleep.

This incredible and secret defence of a territory.

The faint nature with its songs and its sorrows

its deaf innocence dictates the conditions of this land

and the pitiful end human reason meets.

Here, thinking is nothing but a slave to nature.

And as soon as criticism appears,

or a tendency arises to correct

the celestial structure of these lands,

to see in the sea only water,

in volcanoes chemical compounds,

in man only innards,

the human race is perished.

A large part of this nature

of this maternal and custodian spirit

occupies the same species as man

and keeps it oppressed in sleep.

And day and night

watches over its sleep.

Careful that he does not improve.

Good morning, Pulcinella.

I've washed your clothes.

These are my father's shoes.

If they fit, you'll revive his soul.

Certainly.

You have a glint in your eyes.

I could almost remove this mask.

Why don't you remove it?

- What's your name? - Teresa.

You're beautiful, Teresa.

Could you tell me why this calf won't eat?

I'll show why it won't eat! Pass me that bucket.

You see why he won't eat the hay? He still needs milk.

You try.

Let me see.

Ah, there we go.

Move it.

Come on!

Come on!

Move it!

Shall we go, Sarchiapone?

Do you want to stay here?

You're happy here?

Ok, I understand.

Have we found hospitality?

What d'you reckon? Shall we?

It's freezing, I can feel it in my bones.

Let's go inside.

Come on, Sarchiapone.

Thank you.

What a day, Sarchiapone!

We're nearly there.

Don't worry, lie down if you want, they won't say anything.

Look at this jenny, she's pregnant.

Now it's her turn to let her son fall to the ground.

One morning in 1900

I went to breakfast in Selvapiana

And I ate three oxen and a cow

Seven geldings including the wool

Who are you?

Are you Gesuino?

Of course I'm Gesuino.

Gesuino, we've come from afar.

We're tired,

we've come all the way by foot.

Do you see this buffalo?

It's been sent to you by Tommaso the Angel of Carditello.

He's sent it to me? Why?

You're asking me? What do I know?

They were going to kill it, because it's a male.

He's an orphan.

He grew up without a mother.

Pulcinè!

You see this?

This is the tree of death.

From here one goes to the afterlife.

The afterlife?

- So it's a shortcut. - Yes.

Good to know.

I have shepherd dogs to watch over the sheep.

You bring the whole flock here?

Yes.

It's wonderful here.

Dear Pulcinella you see that lovely fountain?

- This one? - This is a magic fountain.

Enchanted water.

If you drink this water, you'll become another man.

Another man? I'm immortal!

But I can't refuse.

- Should I drink it? - Drink it, trust me.

You're right.

What are you doing? Come in.

- Come in! - Thank you.

You rest, I'll deal with the buffalo.

Give it here.

Go on, don't worry, he'll treat you well.

Gesuino'll take care of you.

Pulcinè,

seeing as you're so tired, there's some straw over there,

go and rest.

Go and rest.

Pulcinè!

- What's going on? - Wake up.

Wake up, I've prepared you dinner.

Let's go.

Follow me!

There you are.

So...

What do you reckon how will this calf fare in this region?

Will he be ok?

Because where he comes from, it's completely different.

Well, they're different lands those, different habitats,

here there are more mountains.

But you'll see, I'll find a way.

If Tommaso has sent me the buffalo...

I'll find a system for it.

To us and to Tommaso.

Tommaso, may God be with him.

Let's hope there'll be many more Tommasos,

many more like him.

I will always remember Tommaso's scent.

The same scent of that land, I had been forced to leave.

I can see his charming, disdainful smile

in that lovely face of his.

And imagine the mild shock that enveloped him that night.

Get some rest.

Bye.

Thanks.

One must make a choice.

If I have to suffer anyway, I want to decide

how and what to suffer.

Hunger is not the only scourge.

There are plenty of others.

I want decide where and with whom to be.

I want to be free from this slavery.

Come on, Sarchiapone.

Let's go.

Get up.

Come on!

Damn!

Stubborn like a buffalo.

Come on, Sarchiapone. I've found you the ideal spot.

- Morning, Gesuino. - Morning, Alviero.

You working?

- Where are you going with this calf? - It's a long story, I need a favour.

What do you need?

Seeing as you have space, fatten it up for me.

No.

- It's a male, what can I do with it? - When it's fattened up, we'll eat it.

This won't fatten up,

if it was female I'd take the milk, but it's male.

When it's nice and fat, in a year...

How strange my fate was!

I had travelled there

to a new owner

to be sentenced to death once again.

I hadn't done anything wrong.

But they would have taken a knife to me,

they would have pierced me and then torn me apart,

spilling my innards onto the ground.

That night I dreamt that all humans

had become winged creatures

and they had flown far away,

to the celestial land of immortality.

Earth had been covered with dense forests

and had been bequeathed to the animals.

But then I woke up, still longing for it.

When will all this finish?

When will humans leave us to our own fate?

At last you have come back!

Pulcinella exists no more.

I don't want to be Pulcinella anymore.

If I have to die, I want to do it unmasked.

Where's Sarchiapone?

I've taken him to the cattleman.

When he's fattened up, we'll eat him together.

For God's sake! I told you he was a special buffalo,

he's a buffalo that speaks.

Where's the cattleman?

- I know where he is. - Let's go and get him.

Come on, let's go.

Hurry up, let's go.

Grab that, let's go and get him.

Hurry up, walk.

You took him to the cattleman!

We slept side by side, now I should let you eat him?

Morning, Alviero.

Pulcinella here wants the buffalo back.

He's convinced it can speak.

He speaks.

He's convinced it speaks.

What is it, Sarchiapone? Come here!

Come here!

Sarchiapone!

I've come to find you.

Do you want to speak? Gesuino says you can't speak.

Speak! Speak!

They'll send you to the abattoir, you're here to fatten up.

Speak! Speak!

He doesn't want to speak.

Because you're here.

Sarchiapone, they'll kill you, understand?

You don't want to come. You want to stay here?

You want to eat. Fine.

Take care!

It was a lovely journey.

I came to save you and now it's up to you.

Let's go, you're right, he wants to stay.

He spoke and now he no longer wants to.

We'll eat him together.

For God's sake! You're insisting?

Say it again...

We'll eat him on the anniversary of Tommaso's death.

Again? What if I was to eat you?

Leave me be. You're nuts.

- Walk. - Nutjob!

The spell was broken.

Without his mask,

my friend no longer heard my voice.

My friend,

I couldn't explain to you that pursuing you into reality,

like you asked me,

was impossible.

Dreams and fables,

although imaginary,

should tell the truth.

For years it suffered Camorra lootings, deserted auctions,

destined to increasingly become a ruin.

The royal site of Carditello, the great 18th-century Bourbon residence,

in the heart of the 'land of fires' in San Tammaro, of Caserta

now belongs to the Italian people.

Everyone remembers Tommaso, the volunteer who'd been its guardian,

despite threats and intimidation,

who died shortly after Christmas Eve having left a message to the ministry:

"My Christmas is here in the Carditello palace".

Now my story comes to an end.

Perhaps the meaning has been conveyed,

perhaps not.

But it doesn't matter.

To love life is what really counts.

Despite everything, I'm proud of being a buffalo.

In a world that denies we have a soul,

being a buffalo is an art.

Men have such a ridicuolus belief...

being the only ones to have a soul in this immense universe.

But I'm sure that there on other planets, where I'll go,

they think differently about us.

Go on.

Get up there, go on.

Go on.

Up you go.

Don't move, stay still.

Leave it be.

Go back.

Go on.

To Tommaso Cestrone