Original subtitles

The house with laughing windows

Colours... My colours...

They get out of my veins,

they're sweet, my colours,

sweet, sweet as in Autumn,

hot like blood,

smooth like syphilis,

they run, get into people's eyes

bringing the infection to everyone.

My colours, my colours

they're inside my arm, my colours.

My God... Far away,

far away go my colours

and one has to die for them, open up oneself.

Oh my Goodness,

purify... away... away...

purity... purity...

All my colours...

Son of a bitch... Yes, here we are,

My God... Here we are... My God,

I feel he is about to die... He is dying...

Good morning. Solmi.

Pleased to meet you.

Listen... take hers!

Take my advice... This is no good way to try one's luck with women, nowadays.

Anyway, welcome. Coppola!

It was me writing to the Academy, you know.

Lest we invent one, I said to myself, we must find someone famous from this village

that we can sell to the public.

You know what they're doing in Guastalla, with Ligabue:

no tourism here, and we're dead.

Thermal baths are no longer enough to attract people.

Take us to the church!

I'm sure you'll do a good job.

- I hope so. - The guy who painted the fresco,

Legnani, died about 20 years ago

but we can't even dedicate him a street.

- That's why we called you, you understand? - Sure.

As soon as your nice job is over,

the fresco will be one of our four specialities,

besides women, water... and silence.

Hell you're doing? Drunk already at this time of the day?

Me, drunk?

The fresco is in an old church in the outskirts.

I let the priest take care of it, over there.

Crazy Legnani made it there, and I cannot transfer it.

The church has been destroyed and rebuilt many times, I guess...

And, were it not for me, it wouldn't exist any longer now.

Solmi told me you came here during the war...

Right. The church used to be an SS barrack, beforehand,

then, a funeral car garage.

The priest had long gone away, you see:

only the walls had remained. So I started from scratch,

and after a while, all was rebuilt, as you can see.

And now they have discovered that crap over there is by Buono Legnani,

and it needs be restored,

so my peace is gone.

This is a great painter...

Only a great artist can transmit such a realistic sense of death.

He had got it all...

Could be. But do you really think

of all nice, clean walls around,

he had to choose this very one for such crap?

Poor moron, he probably didn't even know he was in a church...

Not incidentally, he was mad.

- What are you doing? Starting already? - Just a quick look.

I'll leave you to your work. I might be rude, but

I haven't had breakfast today.

And, don't be so concerned about your work!

If you expect gratitude here,

you're going to wait for a long time.

She should do that kind of things at her own place, the bitch...

Take it.

Yes?

Someone already looking for you over the phone.

- Over there. - Yes, thanks.

- Hello? - Go away.

- He does not want... - Hello?

- Who's speaking? - Don't touch the fresco.

- Good morning Miss, welcome back! How are you? - Morning, Mr. Poppi.

Chef's sausage, today...

Here's your cheese. I'm going for your coffee.

Thanks.

You scared me today, at the hotel.

At last, a new face among this shit!

- Are you here for work? - One could say so.

Please...

- Sorry... this place is taken. - Antonio!

- You're going to say thanks, I hope! - I'll be sitting over there, then.

- What are you doing here? - What do you mean!?

Who do you think gave these guys your name?

They were looking for a great restorer, a master...

...and I've immediately thought of my favourite failed painter!

- How are you now? - It's over.

I'm fine. I was right, just a nerve breakdown.

I just needed to stay away for a while.

- And break up with Marcella. - The bitch!

No puns, huh?

Who is she?

She's the teacher... She gives it away to the whole village!

You wanna fuck her, hurry up, they're going to sack her.

- You already been to the church? - Yes, this morning.

- Then you've already seen the fresco. - Yes, why?

I'd rather you'd seen it with me.

Don't talk about it with anyone.

I'm after the weirdest story you can think of.

That's why I had them call upon you.

- You look bad... - No, I'm fine.

I'm fine, I'm alright.

But, I'll see you later. I have to go now.

Bye. I'll call you.

He's taking a couple of pills, then he'll be shiny and new.

Nice flat you got. Is it yours?

No, I'm renting. I've been here for a short while.

Antonio says you're a teacher. Is that right?

- Yes, that's right. - And what do you teach?

Kids... whom do you think I teach to?

- Must be boring. - How much sugar?

- Not much, thanks. - Come on, have it sweet.

I always serve tea when I want to show off.

And with you, I want to show off.

You know what? Your face is sad.

Come on, I meant you're nice.

If only a few years back, with this body I have, someone dared say I'm nice...

If you feel lonely, come back. You know the way.

Stick around then... but not in the morning, I'm at school.

Will do.

If you want to understand something, I'll take you to a place.

I'll take you there tomorrow.

There's a house with laughing windows!

Is this the weird story you mentioned last night?

You used to have more fantasy.

Do you know what they used to call Legnani?

- The painter of agonies. You got that? - Sweet.

Sweet, yes.

Figure out when there were no corpses left.

Come, come, Foresti!

Here you go, doctor.

- Thanks. See you tomorrow at the valley. - Fine.

You were talking about agonies...

Hi there! Good morning everyone! How's the analysis going?

By the way Dr. Mazza, the equipemnt you ordered has arrived. Are you happy?

Your money is wasted, Solmi.

No more eels in this river.

There are more war relics here than in a Krupp factory.

I'm going. I've got to start working too.

See you later.

- Do you mind if I come along? - Not at all.

- Did I interrupt you? What were you taking about? - Nothing serious.

These rumours about the dead, and the painter.

Poor fellow, your friend. He could be a good chap, hadn't he some strange ideas in his mind.

Some asshole in the village is threatening me over the phone.

- Know anything about that? - Once there was some Zanotti,

he phoned women at night, and then claimed he'd impregnated them.

But he got arrested, then.

You better give it up. You aren't going to make it, you see.

Who's bringing flowers here?

I don't know. Why? Don't you like them?

- That's it, you drunkard. - Hands off! I'm drinking as much as I want!

Don't push me!

- Stop it! - I said don't push me, Jesus!

- What the hell are you doing! - Do not fuck with me!

You know that if I speak... you know that if I want...

Now you cool down, right?

Once and for all, you stop. And you know what I mean.

Go home now. Scram!

Give me a cigarette, first.

It's over.

- Thank you, marshal. - No problem, Mr. Poppi.

Sorry about that. You understand,

this is the only restaurant in the village,

and one has to think twice before throwing someone out.

- How did you like your tagliatelle tonight? - Good. Very good.

- You're here for the fresco. - How do you know that?

You know what it's like: you lean out of the window and you come to know everything.

Anyway, since that guy Solmi, the short one, has come,

things have changed.

Improved, I understand.

Like they say: when someone's a lucky bastard...

...you understand, do you.

Solmi is able to draw a fortune out of that crap painter.

And I wouldn't mind that. Do not ask me why,

but I got some ten of these.

And Solmi is after them, too.

They are extraordinary.

My wife... Were it for me, I'd give them all to him,

but they're all hers. My wife's, I mean.

Poor her, she's not normal any longer. We are separated, essentially.

She lives upstairs, but free to come down whenever she wants.

- May I? - Sure.

You see? This is her favourite. One of the first he made.

He gave it to my wife, personally.

A long time ago... before becoming the so-called "painter of agonies".

Ah, but he was already mental.

That folly of his, to squeeze the colours over his own body.

Syphilis gets into one's blood, and...

He could find no woman willing to pose naked for him.

You understand... he had no models.

He used to lay bare in front of a mirror,

spread the colours on his arm...

Hello? Who? Oh yes, he's here.

One moment please. It's for you.

- Hello? - Don't mention my name.

I have to talk to you. I got the whole picture, it's horrible.

I'll be waiting for you at the hotel, in your room.

- I saw him fall! - Quick, call an ambulance!

- He's already dead. - Call a doctor...

He did it! O my Goodness, he killed himself!

I was sure he'd do it...

He killed himself... poor chap.

Look, virtually, I feel sorry as much as you do for that poor guy's death.

We had spent a few evenings together, and I was getting on with him...

Listen marshal, I saw a shadow move up there.

Someone may have pushed him. He had no reason to commit suicide.

Fine with me, but there is no reason,

no evidence justifying the hypothesis of a murder.

Believe me, the only fiend to that guy was himself.

You'll soon notice, if you remain here.

This is no place for young men, young men go away,

and they do so rightly. There are no jobs. No entertainment.

Only wine. No young women, too. Your friend was alone.

Anyway we have sent the corpse to Ferrara for a check.

Later on there will be the funeral. Be reassured.

Hello? Yes. It's for you. Over there.

Hello?

Go away. Do not touch the fresco.

If you think you can scare me by phone calls

...you're wrong, understand?

- He loves me. - I'm not leaving.

Excuse me please...

We have a tourist bus tomorrow for the thermal bath...

- You understand, do you? - What?

We need you room.

We absolutely need them all.

We are sorry... if we only knew...

Do you like it? There's a whole family in the sacristy.

If you're feeling alone, I'm giving you one...

They're the speciality of this place. There's still someone in the village

who can cook rats properly.

You boil them alive in water, and they are great!

Cook them short, eat them boiling hot!

- What's inside that tank? - Here?

Something. Come!

What are you doing! Are we going or what?

Hurry up, it's late!

What about it? Not bad, huh?

Are you coming or not?

Come on.

What luxury, huh? It's yours for as long as you want.

Hurry up!

- Whose is it? - Never mind. I'm going to show you.

Come in.

Upstairs.

Is that you?

- Why didn't you eat anything? - It's all crap, you sod.

You only care about the money I give you. Thief.

If you don't like what I bring, walk to the restaurant!

Bloody bastard. Just because I'm nailed to this bed...

- Who is this? - Good morning.

He's a kind man. A new lodger.

He'll be staying for a while. I'll settle him downstairs.

I've been waiting for someone new for so long...

Here, always alone... You don't know what silence means.

- So when are the tourists arriving? - Tourists?

- For the thermal baths... - Are you kidding? The last tourists we had

were the German pigs, in 1940.

- Who is it? Ah, it's you...

I didn't want to disturb you. Were you still sleeping?

Sleep? Me? Not quite.

How can a woman, nailed to a bed like me, sleep?

I was worried last night. I heard a lot of noises.

- Noises? - Yes.

- Last night? - Sure.

The only person who stomped on this floor was you, yesterday...

...I wish I could have done it.

I just wanted to make sure you were all right.

Come here. Come close.

I haven't touched a healthy face since a long time.

I'm so happy someone is concerned about me.

What's the weather like today? Fine?

Yes, it seems a beautiful day.

Come to see me again. Promise?

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

Is anybody there?

The colours. My colours.

They get out of my veins.

They are sweet... my colours,

sweet as in Autumn,

hot like blood...

Smooth like syphilis.

They run, get into people's eyes

bringing the infection to everyone.

My colors

they are inside my arm.

Son of a bitch...

Here we are... my God...

Here we are my God, I feel he is about to die...

He is dying... Purify...

He is dying... Purify... I came just in time...

...grab hold of him.

Don Orsi!

Don Orsi! Is there anyone?

Yes?

Excuse me... I am looking for the woman who lives here.

She's no longer here. What time is it?

I'm sorry.

She left three days ago. I replaced her at school.

Please come in... I am awake now.

When you came in, I was having a beautiful dream.

Please, do come in.

I was dreaming I was at a restaurant, and they were bringing me a big plate of escargots.

Do you like them?

I cannot even dare touch them.

Do you know how to cook them?

No. And even if I did, I cound never eat that stuff.

- What's your name? - Francesca.

Well, I'm going back to bed.

We're seeing each other again, are we?

Hey... I put a live rat in the coffin,

to keep your friend company.

Good God, why those two women?

How do they fit in the sacred subject?

That fresco is not about faith.

I thought you would like it. These two figures,

of which nobody was aware before I came,

it makes Legnani's work even truer. No more hypocrisy

about smiling martyrs! At last the real cruelty of martyrdom,

death in its full horror.

Even a blasphemous restorer I had to meet!

When you arrived here, what was it like?

I stood against the flood with a few others,

and then we were back to living and hoping. And this is no commonplace.

My landlady was among these ones, was she?

- Who, the paraplegic? - Yes...?

I don't know her much.

I never go to meet her at her place.

She hasn't left her bed for years.

People say it's because of a venereal disease.

And besides, she does not like priests.

Was she a friend of Legnani?

No more! Stop spoiling my fishing with your painter!

Leave him alone, here at least.

- What is this stuff? - I didn't think you'd come back.

That is it. I've seen better ways of welcoming someone.

I've been listening to this guy swearing for two hours.

- What is he saying? - I'm trying to figure out.

- How come you live here? - Lidio, the guy in the church, brought me here.

Are you alone here?

No. There's an elderly woman upstairs. She never gets out of bed.

It's hard to smoke on an empty stomach.

I can give you a little cooking lesson...

- Escargots? - No. Something much better. Come.

- Can you lay the table? - Sure.

You'll find everything you need in this drawer.

- I'll be in the kitchen. - Good.

I found an odd book in the old lady's library,

"Love cooking".

Why were you seeing my colleague?

- Did you like her? - Pardon?

- Do you have a lighter? - Right there.

Did you make love with her? It is true she's nymphomaniac?

Cut it out...

B. L. ?

Whose are these initials? Do you know someone called Buono Legnani?

No, it's a gift. I've had it for long.

Not a very gay place, isn't it?

After eating this, the maiden and her knight

will feel love and fire over all their bodies.

Do you have a lot of luggage?

One suitcase.

You could bring it over here.

What are you doing there?

Is this where Legnani lived?

- Who? - The painter, was he living here?

Would you give me a lift?

Yeah, yeah. Come.

Sit in the front.

- Shall I get you to the hotel? - Why don't we have a drink?

No way. They won't serve me.

To have a Campari Soda, I had to go all the way to Ferrara yesterday!

Thank you. This is on me.

We'll do the accountancy later on. Please go ahead with your story now.

- Right now? - Yes.

The painter... he had gone

to Brazil with his mother and two sisters to find their fortune.

But then only he and the two bitches came back.

He could find no fortune in Brazil.

His mother died over there.

They came back, found that place and settled down.

Excuse me.

- How did they live? - What?

- How did they live? - Poor them.

They were mad angry

'cause they had made no money. Understand?

You know, I met the painter.

I was 7 or 8 years old.

He came at night to paint my poor mother while she was dying.

My mother was a launderess

and he came to paint her while she was drawing her last breath.

That's why they called him "the painter of agonies".

He liked to go and paint people

while they were dying.

Maybe he wasn't all that mad.

Maybe he... The sisters! They were bitches!

They had started with him a relationship one cannot stop once it's started.

One cannot go against nature. It's the two of them who drew him crazy.

So, could you recognize the sound of his voice

if I could let you hear it?

Not very hard.

Once you've heard it, you cannot forget it.

He talked like a psycho, like a machine gun.

Then suddenly he would use foreign words.

- He was weird. - Wait a sec.

The sisters are two big bitches!

- Plug it in. - Yeah.

Listen to this.

I couldn't hear anything...

- Was that you? - I haven't touched it since that night.

It was you, huh? It was important to me, you understand, you moron?

Don't you believe me? I didn't touch it!

This is ridiculous.

I'm sorry...

I'll be right back.

Francesca!

Coppola?

Are you awake?

I slept a little bit,

but I only had bad dreams.

I apologise.

I'm scared, you know.

Me too, but for me it's different.

I can leave whenever I want.

Holy shit, your friend had a lot of things...

- Is everything in the trunk? - Yes, just take it away.

It's incredible, it's unbelievable. Listen.

Verify models recruitment - check out around the painter's place.

the sisters get him corpses to paint.

The sisters...?

Why do they use so much formaldheyde?

Find out Buono Legnani's tomb.

It's about sacrifical communions,

human sacrifice-based rites,

the chance that, nowadays still,

can communicate with the dead,

via these practices.

No more!

That's enough!

I'm sorry, but I cannot take anymore of this.

I'm leaving.

Rio de Janeiro.

It's from Rio de Janeiro.

What is it? What is the point?

Probably the key to all of it.

How ugly... who are they?

- I guess it's them! - Them?

- I must leave now. - Take me with you.

No, stay here, get some rest. Don't open the door. I'll be back.

As flores do amor

flores lindas de meu jardim

para vocé, para vocé...

As flores do amor

flores lindas de meu jardim

para vocé Senhor, para vocé...

Today still, the sisters get him corpses to paint.

- Who's in the church?

Ah, it's you! What are you doing here?

It's them! It's the painter's sisters, you see?

He portrayed them while they were stabbing the martyr's body! Look!

True... there is a certain resemblance. Where have you found this?

Now we can look for something real. My friend was trying to do it,

- before dying. - Look for what?

- Why are you so excited? - I don't know!

But I feel entangled to this story!

...the death of Antonio... it's all too strange!

I feel so, too. So, as soon as possible,

I'll chuck this crap out.

- You're scared too? - Yes.

Courage is something God did not give me, I admit.

Promise me you won't do anything silly.

Why?

I can hear too many weird things in the confessional.

Seems like you old landlady is about to leave us.

Tonight I am going to her place for the extreme unction.

Let me have a look.

Yeah, it's definitely them.

But tell me, where did you find this picture?

I'm surprised these two women consented to be photographed.

For such primitive people, being photographed was like...

Yeah, I know.

And after all he was mad. Oh yes, we have to say that.

Mad, mad, mad, mad.

My wife was really beautiful when she was young.

From a good family. To think she fell for Legnani!

She wouldn't believe the stories about him and the sisters.

At their own place, besides the river, on the rails, everywhere.

Stuff they had learnt in Brazil, where they had been as children.

They used to mate like ravenous dogs!

And then came the night he committed suicide.

Must have been two or three months after he had finished the fresco.

The guys from the asylum in Rovigo had come two or three times already,

but the sisters used to hide him.

The Saint Sebastian painting must have made him totally mad.

My wife saw him first.

She was in love with him.

He set fire to himself.

Nobody's ever found his body.

- It only says "presumably dead". - What do you mean "presumably dead"?

How many times shall I repeat?

"Presumably dead" means "presumably dead".

1931, June 4th, that is it. Basically it means

that it is presumed, you understand, "presumed",

that the man deceased on that days because of burns and wounds,

was Legnani Buono, painter.

- Shall I read once again? - No, no, no.

Presumably dead... So he could still be alive.

A man devoured by flames like that?

You wouldn't have been able to recognise him!

Franchini! Three copies of this certificate for tomorrow.

I bought you four drinks at the bar.

I told you one hundred times I do not like drinking.

By the way, should your work in the church be over by now?

- Yes, why? - You call that a restoration?

Lidio, you're going to tell me how this was.

No idea. Perhaps it was someone.

Maybe last night...

Holy shit!

Hey, maybe we should call a real specialist.

Sod off.

Who is it?

Who is it?

Francesca!

Where are you?

Ah, there you are.

- I've been waiting for you for over an hour. - I went to the village for a phone call.

- What's the matter? - Nothing.

I called the State school office.

I asked for a replacement.

- You kidding? - No way.

I cannot live here anymore. I am getting mad.

Something horrible happened earlier on. I fled away screaming.

I felt something horrible was there, spying me.

You said we'd be together for ever.

This is what I lacked.

Whereas it's just a few hours at night...

Otherwise I'd be lonelier than ever.

I'm scared.

Do you want to leave me?

No, I can't do that.

There's a train leaving tomorrow at 9.

If we get up early, can we pack in time?

No kidding this time.

Why didn't you wake me up? Are you going back there...?

You said we'd leave together.

Why did you lie to me?

It's all true. You got two hours to get ready.

Meanwhile I go to see Solmi and tell him we're off.

They'll have to deal with this by themselves.

Ciao.

Is there anybody?

Good morning.

I brought back the bike. It's outside.

- So you're leaving. - Yeah, I'm leaving.

- May I ask you a question? - Sure.

- Do you sell muriatic acid? - Of course, special quality. Want some?

Who bought any, recently?

It was used to destroy the fresco.

I've been selling one litre per family,

once a week for 20 years. Everyone buys it.

You won't help me either, will you.

No way, I told you. They use it to clean the toilets,

the sinks, to kill rats. They throw it at lovers' faces!

I sell it to everybody.

I'm going, Coppola. Take me home, I need to pick up Francesca.

- Where is it that you want to go?

The bastards took my driving license away.

- Who? - Them.

They don't care about me.

They don't know I can fuck them all, holy shit!

They had bought my silence with a little grappa.

But now it's over. This is the last one, good God.

The painter's sisters are still here.

And if you want to know, they are still alive.

Come closer.

I'm the only one who has seen them in action.

- What do you mean? - They tried to get me,

but I escaped.

When I was a little kid, I used to run like hell.

Do you think I get scared by a picture in a church?

If I get scared, there is a reason.

I know perfectly the death that guy, on the picture,

has suffered. And also, all the others.

But if I'm still alive, and Coppola is alive, good God!,

it's because nobody fucks Coppola, you understand?

- You think I'm drunk, huh? - No.

- Really? - Yeah.

Too many people have disappeared.

My friend too was killed, was he?

I don't know whether your friend was killed.

I only know everything started when

they killed the guy on the fresco.

You're a nosy guy, are you?

I know a place where nosy guys like you

lose their heads.

Come on! I'll take you on a nice tourist trip. Get on!

Is that you?

Here we are.

Legnani loved this piece of land.

Now it is kept up by temporary personnel, no documents,

nobody cares if they disappear.

May I know why you brought me back here?

I know they're all here. All of them. Cosy and warm.

Here's one of his models.

To think I was about to end up likethis, too.

You're not scared, are you?

I use to do it to the kids in the church, but they never get scared.

You aren't scared of me, are you?

- Nobody's scared of Lidio. - No!

You like him, do you? But I know a lot of things he doesn't know,

things he'd like to know,

and you don't know either! You bitch!

You wanna know who's the old one upstairs, huh?

You wanna know who's the old one upstairs? Do you really want to know?

I'll take you to a house with laughing windows.

Go get the girl, I'll be waiting for you. Hurry up.

- Stefano. - Yes? - Things are getting tough.

I'll be waiting.

Francesca, are you ready?

Francesca, are you there?

Madam, have you seen...?

Yeah, it's here.

This way, quick! No, this way!

I know where they took her.

- Here. Dig here. - Come on, boys.

Cigarette?

Excuse me, marshal, what shall we do? Keep on digging?

Are you sure you're feeling ok? There is nothing here.

I swear it is here. It's true.

There's a lot of them, down under...

But who told you? Who's your informer?

Coppola, the chauffeur. He got me here.

- Coppola? Coppola himself? - Yes.

Come on Cifarelli, let's go.

Coppola... the perfect witness indeed. Always drunk.

Will you hurry up please?

Hey you! Where did you find him?

By the ravine. He drowned last night.

- We're getting it ashore now. - He weighs a ton!

Come on, help me.

There must be more alcohol than water in his body.

What are these scars? I've never seen them before.

War injuries. He had been involved in a shooting.

These don't quite look like bullet scars...

Take him to Ferrara for the autopsy.

I want a report by tomorrow.

Masaldi! Do we know anything about the teacher?

She isn't home, nobody's seen her for week.

Good. Keep on searching.

Don't go away. Even better, come to my office tomorrow morning,

so we'll have a chat and try and figure out what this mess is all about.

Understand?

All right, marshal.

Take my advice: stay at the hotel tonight.

- I have to find her first. - Believe me, this is not the right time. Let's go.

Yes? One moment.

- You're wanted on the phone. - Who?

I don't know.

- Hello? - Darling...

It's me, my love, Francesca.

Come! I'm waiting for you...

...at home.

I'm scared... come.

Take me away.

You bastard! You rascal!

Oh, it is you. Come, come closer.

Come see him.

It's for him, you see? Our little brother.

He still has sex with us both,

as long as we keep on bringing him models.

For him, painting death is life.

Come, come see him.

You estimate and admire our little brother, dont' you?

Can you hear his nice voice?

Do you know how we keep him? Formaldehyde.

Lidio used to bring it every day.

Today he portrayed the slut you used to bring to your room,

while she was dying. And now, he's got this model...

...this spy, to paint. Come, come see him.

Come, don't be scared.

He too looks like the man in the fresco, doesn't he?

Bravo! You hit him!

Hold him!

Get him from the other side!

He's probably hiding here.

It's useless to search now.

He won't get far.

Tomorrow morning we come back to get the body.

All right, Laura, all right.

Please help me...

Marshal...

Hello? Give me the police of Ferrara.

Open up!

My God, Stefano! What happened?

We have to stop them... We must do something.

I know what's going on here, it's them.

I know everything.

Call a doctor, please.

The painter's sisters...

Legnani's sisters are still alive!

They're still alive, they're still alive... They're still alive.

...still alive...

One of them is my landlady...

- The paraplegic? - Yeah, they're alive.

The other one... I didn't see her face...

What a nuisance, now that Lidio is dead.

I must do everything by myself.

Laura, come see him!