All language subtitles for Cabrini.2024.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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Oh dear,

Off the sidewalk.

I beg your pardon?

Can you see that I’m
speaking with someone?

I don’t understand you.

Go to a hospital
that takes Italians!

Come on,

Filthy little Dago,
let’s go! Out!

Policeman1: Where’s your father?
Do you have any other family?

Policeman2: Johnny, don’t
waste your time--

those monkeys don’t
understand a thing.

Two days and she’s in the
Potter’s Field.

New York.

And from now on, my sisters,
we speak English.

We will be greeted at the port
by a priest named Morelli.

He can no longer manage his
orphanage in Five Points,

so we will gain
possession of it,

and give the abandoned children
the love they so badly need.

If we are to build an
empire of hope,

my sisters,

it seems we must first
conquer New York.

And so we begin.

We’ve waited long enough.

Excuse me, how much
to Five Points?

Don’t go to Five Points
at this hour.

Please, sir. We don’t know--

I’m sorry.

Open your eyes.

See everything.

This is who we’ve come to serve.

Hey!

Francesca Cabrini.

Welcome to America.

Man 1: Filthy dagos,

they just keep coming.

We ought’a ship ’em all back.

Who are you looking at,
Guinea Pig?

Man 2: Come on. Let’s go.

If you’re saying that
there is an Italian problem,

then yes, there is.

Quite a large one!

Now, I... It’s not safe--

not for you, not for your wards.

Now, I’m terribly sorry

that you sailed the
Atlantic to hear it,

but that is my letter in brief.

Then I take it
as a great sign,

I did not receive it.

Because I’m staying.

Ah.

Well, uh...

I made my decision,

so I’m afraid there’s no choice

but for you to get on a boat
and go back home.

Now, my office

would be pleased to assist you

in arranging a steamer,
if that might-

I was sent
here by the Pope.

I would not want to
disappoint him.

Hmm.

Of course, I am delighted that
the Pope wishes you well.

But please know that I am
empowered by Him

to make decisions for
the Archdiocese

entirely as I see fit.

So if you are to
remain in New York

it is only because I allow it.

Is this clear?

Well...

This should be just fine.

Look, Mother.

This one.

But this is nice too and it
does cost less.

We’ll save on other things.

Our children deserve the best.

They will notice.

My lungs are very compromised.

I know.

How do you say it?

Post-tubercular symptoms...

We can speak English, Dr. Murphy.

I need the practice.

You’re fortunate I was
here tonight.

I only volunteer on occasion.

Dr. Murphy: I take it you
know your prognosis.

I’m afraid it’s not a
cheerful one.

The doctors tell me five years.

In my experience... two,

perhaps three.

Five would be a miracle.

In that case,

I should get to work.

That’s if you rest, Mother.

If you have another
episode like this...

it could very well
spell the end.

She’s here.

Don’t worry about me.

There will be a time...

There will be a time
when I am away.

That’s why you have to learn

to face your fears,

to not just carry on

but to lead.

And to demonstrate

you can do all things,

all things in Him who
strengthens us.

Whether I am here or not.

This is a beautiful
place to live in.

Now we need to fill it
with children.

Enzo, Paolo...

Be careful, Mother, or this
place will eat you alive.

And you’ve been in
America for how long?

A few weeks.

Then, I suppose
you can be excused

for not knowing that the
City of New York

is not in the business of
giving assistance

to people of...

...the Latin persuasion.

Of course, I wish you the
best in all your-

Is this

the Mayor’s decision

or is it yours?

Pardon me?

I’d prefer to discuss this
with the Mayor,

if you don’t mind.

The Archdiocese
simply cannot allow you

to solicit funds from City Hall.

Because I’m Italian?

The Archdiocese has worked
many years indeed,

to earn the support of the
highest echelons of this City.

I will not put that at risk.

I need your help.

I need an orphanage
with more room,

where my children can
be children,

and I don’t have to worry

that a pimp will smack
them in the face.

All right.

This is all I can do.

Once-a-year contribution.

That should help a little.

But allow me to make
myself clear,

You

are not to solicit money from
any American institution--

or any American individual
for that matter.

I will not have you
begging your way

through the Upper West Side.

You are to solicit from
Italians only.

You ask me to

fund the needs of
impoverished Italians...

entirely from
impoverished Italians.

I am giving you an order, Mother.

The problem is, I have to write
articles that people read.

Do people know

that in America, the
greatest nation on earth,

rats have it better than the
children of Five Points?

I sincerely doubt that.

Then you clearly...

haven’t been to Five Points.

Vittoria, if you
would be so kind

as to get Mr. Calloway’s hat.

“Even Rats Have It Better.” By
Theodore Calloway.

Over the last several months,

a group of dark-eyed nuns,

led by a frail woman
named Cabrini,

have been taking the
risk of entering

certain forbidding places

where not even police
dare to enter.

To each child,

Cabrini makes a promise,

“Soon we shall have a
bed for you.”

These kids are coming home
with us tonight.

They learn in English,

so they can be
American citizens,

great ones,

proud of the land where
they now live.

...will always be protected
by the government.

And they sing in Italian,

so they can be proud of the
land they came from.

She imbues these castaways

with a dignity their
parents never knew.

For she believes the wounds
these children bear

can only be healed through love,

and through an
education of the heart.

Take the case

of the little waif

whose body was found
upon the street

by one of Cabrini’s orphans.

No one stepped forward as
the girl’s family,

so Cabrini and her children
claimed her as their own.

Dear Reader,

New York is built upon the dead.

Her mighty rails,

her tunnels...

her shining streets,

all are set upon a bedrock
of immigrant bone.

Is this bone not ours as well?

Did we not all arrive
as immigrants?

Do we not owe these
children-- our children

a life better than a rat’s?

Dear Reader,

what kind of New
York do we want?

The one imagined by City Hall,

where the Italian is voiceless,

quarantined in slums?

Or do we want the New York that
Cabrini imagines--

where the Italian is our
equal in dignity,

and their children have a
chance to live?

Here.

Oh, but didn’t the
Archbishop say--

The Archbishop ordered us
not to beg here.

So we won’t.

We will live here instead.

So she didn’t need
your permission.

That’s not exactly how
she operates.

So you let a woman
push you around,

an Italian woman.

Is that how you run
your Church?

I’ve got the whole
Upper West Side

climbing down my throat.

They look out their window,

and what do they see?

A wave of brown-skinned filth

parading up their street,

with a nun

as their pied-piper.

But don’t be mistaken,

this is not about a neighborhood.

This is about New York.

This is about the kind of
New York we want.

About our New York.

A beacon of prosperity.

Somewhere, somehow,

a line must be drawn.

Well I am a shepherd, Mr. Mayor.

And, perhaps inconveniently,

the Italians are among my flock.

And the people of Crown Heights

and Corcoran’s Roost,

are they not among your flock?

Wouldn’t it be a shame

if a few permits got between
all those good people

and the new churches
they deserve?

And all those Irish kids

on their city grants,

my grants

—are we going to let some

puffed-up ‘dago’ nun

get in the way of all that?

A shepherd like you,

a good shepherd...

he knows where his sheep belong.

Bottoms-up, Your Grace.

Oh come now--

you’re a good Irish man,
bottoms-up.

Inspector Hennessy,
Housing Department.

Maybe I can show you
the classrooms, Inspector...

Okay...

Congratulations,

you’ve broken 14 city codes

and stuffed 71 children

into a space appropriate for 20.

Italians like to stay close.

It’s unsanitary.

Then surely you’d
like to inspect

the cellars where they
used to live.

What I’d like you to do is
to keep your crime

and your filth out of
this neighborhood.

What crime?

You have seven days to make
all modifications

and pay all fines or you will
be evicted at once.

At which time,

you can move back to
Five Points,

pack’em in there like
herrings in a barrel.

You’ve acted in direct
disobedience, Mother.

I was ordered not to
solicit Americans,

and I did not.

America came to me.

Oh, that’s clever.

But you’ve strayed into waters

that are far too deep for you.

Maybe you could run to
the papers again,

maybe you could raise enough
to pay the fines,

but the Mayor will find a
way to get you out

if he has to have
his rowdies plant

a dead body in your yard, he
will get you out

and your children will be
right back in the rubbish dump.

Now, I don’t want to see that
any more than you do.

So, I have a proposition.

The Jesuits own a property
just north of here,

one they’d be willing to part
with at a discount,

but only for the right cause.

There’s fifteen acres,

views of the Hudson,
and room to play.

You know I couldn’t
possibly afford this.

How much can you afford?

Have you come to make
fun of me...?

Let me ask this way

how much do you have right
now in your bank account?

Nine hundred sixteen dollars
and twelve cents.

Mostly pennies.

Let’s call it a thousand,

I’ll chip in the difference.

And the Jesuits, they
will accept, but...

the property does
have a certain...

Well, it’s a challenge.

So how about we just discuss

that while we’re there,
shall we?

Hmm?

Well...?

I shall be buried here.

May I meet you at the carriage?

Yes, those
are the wells.

As I said, there is a challenge.

There’s no water?
None at all?

The Jesuits spent a lot
of money looking.

But they had 300 men.

Far too many to support
without a well.

If you keep your numbers low,

maybe you can find a way.

The Jesuits failed.

That does not mean we will.

The Jesuits dug here,

and on the south side.

So we will start from the north.

They dug every fifteen meters,

we will have to dig
every ten meters.

Umilia, establish two shifts,

and work your way south.

The older children can also help

when they’re free from class.

In the meantime, we will make
the river work for us.

Want to join me?

Keep that tight.

Mother!

I need someone to go to Mt. Carmel.

Now! Tell them I need
morphine and chloroform!

And doctors!

Concetta.

I can pay, please.

We are not a
supply store.

But we need help!

Sorry. We can’t help.

We need doctors! Please!

People are dying!

Dr Murphy: The explosion pushed
Morelli over the edge.

As far as I can tell,

the hospital’s bankrupt.

He plans to shut it down,
go back to Italy.

But they need that hospital.

Even if it’s just a
place to die.

That’s more or less
why I’ve come.

I know it’s mad to even
think about it...

but if anyone could
make a go of it...

it’d be you.

We live bucket-by-bucket, Dr. Murphy.

I couldn’t possibly take
on a hospital.

Here’s the cold hard truth.

If that had been Mt.
Carmel Hospital,

Enzo would be alive.

As would a good many
of those men.

My lunch begins in an hour and
fifty-three minutes,

not nearly enough time for me to
list all the reasons

this bank will never make a loan
to anyone who looks,

smells, walks, or
talks like you.

If you’re asking my permission,

I won’t stop you.

If you’re asking my advice,

I think that you are
barking mad.

Why even consider it?

Because people died that
should not have.

How can we sleep knowing that?

I need funding.

From Americans!

No.

May I help you?

I am here to see
signore DiSalvo.

I’m sorry but Mr. DiSalvo

does not accept any
uninvited guests.

I’m sure he won’t mind!

To Americans, the great Verdi, Puccini,

Michelangelo, DaVinci,

they are one thing.

The men digging tunnels,

dying without a doctor,

these men are quite another.

Poor men,

from Sicily,

like you were.

We have to show America that we
are all people of dignity.

As indeed we are.

But I’m afraid

I will not participate in
your adventure.

Now, if you’ll excuse me

it’s time for me to go
to the Opera.

This is about helping
your people...

I have never been late
to the theater

and today is not going
to be the first.

But you must understand, this is
not an issue you can just-

No, no, no.

you must understand.

I will never
participate in any scheme

that involves... the church.

Show her out.

Evening George.

Dr. Murphy.
- Yeah.

May I have a moment?

No one is going to invest in
a failed hospital,

in a rat-infested building that
was once a brothel.

But we could found a hospital
like this one, a great one.

How would we begin?

We would need a real building

with a board of directors
comprised of men of influence,

who are also sons of immigrants

Irish, Polish, Jewish.

Can you introduce me
to such men?

My father came here from
Ireland to work the rails.

Cheap labor,

disposable,...

just like the Italians in
that pump station.

I figure anyone who came here on
a boat, anyone at all,

I owe them a hand.

As does Mother Cabrini.

When I stepped off the boat,

gentlemen, not so long ago,

I had to learn words that were
not in my dictionary.

Dago. Guinea pig.

Words said with such disdain,
such hate,

that they cut just like a knife.

When your fathers
first came here

did they not also have
to learn words

such as Kike, Mick, Polack?

And even now,

in this fine neighborhood--

don’t you still hear

those names whispered
behind your back?

I ask you to take those names,
and turn them into a hospital.

I propose purchasing
this property

and renovating it for 400 beds,

with services fine enough to
attract the wealthy.

The fees we earn here,

we use to fund the needs

of the immigrant with nothing.

Who will also be treated by
the finest doctors,

so that America will learn

we are more than Kike and Polack
and butcher’s meat.

But you don’t even
have the funds

to sustain the hospital
in Five Points.

Begin the mission and the
means will come.

This mission begins tonight,

in this room,

with you, gentlemen--

or it does not begin at all.

Gentlemen, have you all met?

Thank you for being here.

As you can see...

...pediatrics.

Dr. Murphy: ...and if
Abrams makes a pledge

I see no reason why
his colleagues

wouldn’t follow suit.

It won’t put a dent in the
grand total but...

it’s a start.

Dr. Murphy...

see if you can add another
zero to his pledge.

There are 200 here.

And with the pledges that
came in this week,

it’s... 617-

Oh no! Please, do not put me
in jail. Please!

No, no jail! They need you to
clean their toilets.

Man 1: You take money
from a kid?!

Time to
clear the park!

Get out, Dagos!

Go, go!

You’re under arrest.

Well,

on behalf of the Mayor,

I promise you that this is the
last time New York will ever

see an Italian Festival.

The fines, including those
attended upon your arrest,

amount to 3,111 dollars,

which happens to be exactly the
amount we collected.

It’s your lucky day.

I need to speak to the Mayor.

Oh do you?

This money
belongs to the poor!

I will speak to the Mayor,
signore!

Who the hell do you
think you are?

I am a woman!

And I am Italian!

And I am done with
little men like you!

With hearts the size
of a peanut!

Officer Rentschler!

Too blind to
understand the truth!

To know that we are all
human beings!

We are all the same!

Children of God!

And you dismiss us at
your own peril!

Officer,

please escort this guinea

back to Five Points
where she belongs.

I can walk myself!

I warned you!

But you were blinded
by ambition!

Naked ambition!

You chose to disobey me

and now your actions

have become the problem of
the Archdiocese,

and the souls under my care!

You have left me no choice

but to inform you that
your institutions

are to be disbanded,

and you and your sisters are
to return to Italy.

I assure you

that the Archdiocese

will handle your wards appropriately.

You mean my children.

Your mission is over, Mother.

My mission has barely begun.

Mother Cabrini-

You ask me to destroy my houses

and run back to Italy
like a criminal.

You were arrested, were you not?

This problem will be with us
in a hundred years.

There’s no point
working yourself

to death trying to change it.

Some things never change.

Forgive me if I don’t have the
strength to think like you.

Well, despite that, the Italians

have survived without you,

and somehow they will
continue to do so.

You are to leave New York
and never return.

This is an order of obedience.

It is an order of
obedience, and must be obeyed.

Corrigan gave us 30 days,

I intend to use them.

In my absence, Concetta will
manage all New York operations.

Until we hear otherwise,

we will continue the
work we’ve begun.

As Mother says, we have plenty
of time to rest in Heaven.

So, let’s get back to work.

We are survivors...

are we not?

We are.

Would you take me with you?

We are bold,

or we die.

Mother Cabrini!

Your Grace.

What an honor that you
came to greet us.

May I?

No, thank you. I can manage.

Sister.

When I was a boy,

I would sit in a parlor

with my father and his cronies.

All of them fresh from Ireland,
all of them illiterate.

And

when the whiskey hit my father,

he would pin me

with his blue eyes and say,

“Listen to me, Mikey boy,

our generation

is digging the whole bloody
tunnel from old Croton Dam.

So you lads can drink cool
water from a tap.

And don’t you forget it.”

Well, I never did forget.

Please don’t think I
don’t understand.

Or that I don’t on some level

admire what you’re doing.

But please know, Mother,

that you have swatted the
hornet’s nest.

And neither I nor the Pope

can protect you from
what may come.

Good morning, Mr. Merton.

Francesca Cabrini.

Shall we begin?

Of course half of the
workers must be Italian.

Italian? No, no, no. Sorry, sister.

We built Rome, I am sure we
can build a hospital.

I’m afraid-

It is not negotiable.

And all workers--
including Italians--

must get the same pay.

We’ll see what Dr. Murphy has
to say about that.

You’ll have to do as I say, Mr. Merton.

And from now on, the sisters
and I sleep here.

No, no Salvitore...

I have a favor to ask, Mr. Calloway.

I will see the Mayor.

Now, Mr. Jenkins.

You will never see the Mayor.

Mr. Calloway wants a
front page story.

And Mother is the only one
holding it back.

So I’d do as she says.

Mr. Mayor.

Mother Cabrini.

Your Honor.

Where’s Calloway?

I’d like to speak to
the Mayor alone, Mr. Jenkins.

Do you know why I am here, Mr.
Mayor?

Not in the least.

Are you aware of the fire at my
construction site?

If I was kept abreast of
every fire in this--

It was arson.

The Detective Unit is on
the third floor.

Is there anything else I
can help you with?

Lives were
almost lost...

And I am willing to believe

that whoever did this

thought the place was empty.

Careful, Mother.

I am not here to accuse.

Mr. Calloway, however,
has his own ideas.

I believe I am being
threatened by a nun.

If Mr. Calloway-

Mr. Calloway is a lying
son of a bitch!

Mr. Calloway
is a friend.

Who would be delighted to hear
that you have put your support

behind my hospital

and the good work of-

Oh, no, no, no!

If you think you’re gonna march
in here and tell me-

I want the best hospital!

For your people

and for mine!

Oh, what rot!

You may think we are
lazy, dirty animals,

but someday, sooner
than you think,

there will be an Italian
in this office!

And he will not be cleaning it!

He will be running New York.

Because most of these ‘Dagos’

are already Americans!

You have an election coming up,
do you not?

Support my work now,

and you will have their loyalty.

That I promise.

And if I cannot have
your support,

I will settle for
your protection.

Mr. Calloway will be very
happy to hear it,

as will the voters of
Five Points.

And I thought you
were new at this.

Yes, please.

Now, I need to know that this is
the end of all the fires,

of any kind.

And I am willing to take
your word for it,

because you are a good man,

and good men don’t lie to nuns.

It’s a shame that you’re
a woman, Mother.

You would have made an
excellent man.

Oh no, Mr. Mayor.

Men could never do what we do.

“An Empire of Hope,” by
Theodore Calloway.

My dear friend, Frances
Xavier Cabrini,

arrived in New York with nothing
but a small suitcase

and a few sisters--

and went on to become one of the
great entrepreneurs of her time.

Her first hospital--

built amid the smoke of
controversy--

was soon considered one of the
finest in all New York,

and was a source of
pride and healing

and hope for immigrants
of all nations.

Cabrini and her sisters went
on to found hundreds

of hospitals, orphanages, schools,

and aid centers all
around the world...

on every continent...

including institutions
deep in China.

It was the largest
charitable empire

the world had ever known--

an accomplishment equal to that

of any Rockefeller
or Vanderbilt.

And all of her institutions
were run by women.

Cabrini continued to defy death

until the age of 67.

She was buried at her
grand orphanage

high above the Hudson,

just as she predicted.

She was canonized

at St. Peter’s Basilica
in the Vatican.

The great plaza--

across which she had
walked alone

so many years before -

was packed to bursting.

Just as Cabrini had
wrapped her arms

around the forgotten immigrant,

America now embraced her as
one of its own.

A celebration was held
in her honor at

Chicago’s Soldier Field,

while hundreds of thousands more

listened on radios all
across the country.

Cabrini was the first
American saint,

and is the patron saint of
all immigrants.

And even now she
begs us to ask –

what kind of world do we want?

And what will we do
to achieve it?