Original subtitles

In the previous episode.

In this rotten hour of peace,

We found the Fasci di Combattimento.

Benito, were we born to make a revolution

or to kill the socialists?

I have my people.

And with them we will defeat this rotten liberal democracy.

D'Annunzio.

He left for Fiume.

He treats me like a child, he steals the scene.

Election campaign.

In a month we vote.

We are against elections.

We were.

Those who love him?

They'll vote for me.

We will fight alongside Fiume til death!

Mussolini, you know perfectly well that the occupation of Fiume is illegal.

He's there!

We got 4.796 votes.

No fascist candidate elected.

None, not even me.

I am like the beasts,

I feel the times coming...

And my time is already over.

Shame by Benito Mussolini

"The scene is majestic."

"The king's throne towers above the chamber

which begins to populate itself of newly elected deputies."

"The socialists are first."

"They are the representatives of workers and labourers,

who have entrusted to them their hopes for redemption,

for a better life, decent, of a worthy future."

Good morning.

"And they drool, at the thought of seeing the king."

"The very same monarch"...

"The same"... "The same monarch that the proletariat,

the real one, would like to kick the shit out of."

"The same monarch who is preparing to give the government back

to that shell-less slug, to Cagoia Nitti."

"Who will then be able to continue to starve the workers and labourers."

"And they tremble like virgins, at their first intercourse,

trying to hide their filthy desire,

behind a helpless symbol."

"Enter the cuirassiers."

"The King's guards."

Long live Italy!

By regulation, they must be at least six feet tall.

It takes giants to watch over a dwarf.

Long live Victor Emmanuel!

Long live Italy!

"The ridiculousness takes over."

"But all of a sudden, the unimaginable."

"The socialists demonstrate their courageous integrity,

the wild revolutionary and anti-monarchist spirit roars,

and explodes,

by keeping its ass on the chair."

Long live the King!

"Here it is, the longed-for socialist revolution."

"The first revolution in history... in an armchair!"

"Poor homeland!"

An excellent piece...

..if it had ended there.

I greet the elected members of the

25th legislature of the Kingdom of Italy.

Shame!

Shame!

This is treason!

Where are they going? I have just begun.

Traitors!

Instead, they got up and left, in the King's face.

I should have been the one to do it. I should have been the one to do it.

I should have been the one to do it.

A resounding slap in the face of that homunculus,

at Cagoia Nitti, to a cadaverous political class.

Vile, corrupt.

Attached like leeches to the body of the state and its exhausted people.

I should have been the one to do it.

Instead, here I am.

Helplessly watching, like a martyr.

A martyr. A martyr! That's what I am, gentlemen.

A martyr for the cause, victim of a conspiracy!

Victim! Victim of a state rotten and corrupt.

The people love the martyrs and the persecuted, or do they not?

So, let this martyrdom be fulfilled to the end.

For it is from this martyrdom that I shall rise again.

- Mussolini. - Yes.

You're free.

What do you mean free?

Free.

But I am a martyr.

You cannot free me like this.

Desolated, order from His Excellency, Prime Minister Nitti.

Cagoia Nitti frees me.

And why is that?

I think he has listened to the advice of some wise adviser of his.

What opinion?

Do you really want to know?

Yes.

- Literal? - Literal, by God.

"Mussolini is a ruin, let's not make a martyr of him."

One should not cry, you never cry. Is that true?

One never cries.

Domestic martyrdom. It brings no consent.

I didn't sleep. We missed you.

But now we're all glad you're back, aren't we?

- What are you doing, Rachele? - The slippers.

Slippers? Slippers are the bane of man.

But what do you say?

Take this child.

Benito, promise it, eh!

What?

Promise you'll never do it again.

That you will never do anything again that could put you in danger...

both you and us.

I have been gone for 48 hours, Rachele!

I have been gone for 48 hours!

For God's sake!

Yes, sometimes he raises his voice.

He seems to resent me, but no.

It's his way of showing me that he loves me.

He loved me a lot, you know.

So much that the first time... he took me by force.

So his daddy and my mama, they were both widowers.

So, you know, poor guys, they were keeping each other company.

And he, he was going crazy for me.

But nothing wrong with that, huh? It's not like we were brothers.

So, listen.

One day he shows up with a gun, right?

And in front of his daddy and my mom, he says if

he couldn't have me, he was going to kill everybody.

How crazy my man is.

We were poor, huh. Very poor.

But he told me that I had to believe in him.

It turned out that after nine months Edda was born, the first one.

And after five years, even though he doesn't

believe in marriage, however he spusé me, he married me.

Yes, he raises his voice, sometimes it's as if he doesn't even see me.

But I'm his pillar, me.

The jail,

the world's greatest aphrodisiac.

You don't look like a ruin to me.

I forbid you to use that word.

I could write novels.

I already have three in my head.

Or play the violin, travel the world.

If things get bad, I can do a lot of things.

Even the bricklayer.

It's true.

I believe that. But I bet on you.

My savage. My diamond rough, not on a bricklayer.

I was just saying.

To say what?

Don't you see what that is happening?

The country is paralysed by the largest wave of strikes

ever seen.

Strike! Strike!

The socialists have stirred up the peasants.

They promised them a revolution that they will never make.

And those occupied the lands, they let the crops rot.

They don't milk the cattle.

The workers have occupied the factories.

Long live socialism!

Death to the bosses!

Hunted down the masters.

The desperate, the oppressed, the exploited,

they'll end up making the revolution themselves.

And if the socialists wake up, they will make it for real.

And we fascists, what are we for?

We are few, disorganized, without resources.

We are left only with our will.

And in this situation, even that falters us.

There, now you sound like a ruin.

I am like the beasts, I feel the times coming.

And this, alas, is not yet my time.

I have to go.

Stay.

I have a husband.

So do I.

He's leaving again tomorrow.

Come in the evening, have dinner with me.

"Every five seconds, siege cannons,

gutting space, with a chord, tam-tuuumb."

Mutiny of five hundred echoes to bite it...

shred it, scatter it to the infiniteee."

Do you like this stuff?

"In the midst of those tam-tuumbs. Splattered"...

Do you understand what the fuck he says? Hmm?

"Quick shot, violence, ferocious re-go-la-ri-ty."

You are?

Hey, are you deaf?

"The strange crazy agitated sharpness of battle."

"Fury, breathlessness, ears. How beautiful, how joyful, to see,"

"hearing, sniffing, everything. Everything. Ratatatatatata-ta."

- Benito. - Go, Benito my ass.

But there's Marinetti.

- Marinetti can suck my dick. - What do you want?

"Clanging like brass plates, cing this way, clang that way,

and zuum, cing-cing-cing-cing-cing-cing,

and up, up, over our heads, how beautiful."

Flames flames, flames flames, flames flames,

the limelight of the strong is behind, flames flames."

"And behind that smoke, zang. Tumb. Tumb."

"Zang. Zang. Tumb."

Didn't you say it would hame been just you and me?

- Never said. - Never said?

No.

You abandoned me on the couch with that mute little boy.

Vasa? Uh-huh, but Vasa is not mute at all.

He doesn't speak Italian, but he's a genius.

- Is he? - The party is in his honor.

Congratulations.

Bravo!

- Very good. - Bravo!

Thank you. Thank you.

Gentlemen.

Thank you, thank you to our Vasa, an enfant prodige.

And now...

Excellent.

And now, I would like to, um, call to perform another violinist.

A dear friend.

The editor of Il Popolo d'Italia, Benito Mussolini.

Oh!

No...

Come on, Benito. Don't be shy.

No, no, I haven't played for a long time.

I'm an amateur, so it doesn't seem appropriate.

But you have taken lessons, you must know how to also perform something, please.

"Dlin, dlon, dlan, dlon, beeh, orchestra, fools, thrash,

these thrashing orchestra conductors,

play!"

"Play! Play!"

Play. Play.

Play. Play.

Play. Play.

Play. Yes!

Eh...

Jerk.

So, the first thing that comes to mind.

- Can I have a cigarette? - Get out of my way!

- How many do we have? - Only 700 copies.

Get a move on.

You have a whole life ahead of you.

True, things are not going well, but you don't have to...

Leave alone my new secretary!

Director, have you seen the latest issue?

And when I say last, I mean literally,

we have no more paper.

And we don't have a penny in the till.

And you don't give a damn, going to parties,

instead of dealing with the situation!

Take whatever you want, chairs, desks, go and get a job!

A job? But I have a job, I am a fascist!

- You're a fascist? - I'm a fascist!

Good job, Cesarino, good job.

After almost a year, we have 800 members and 37 sections.

We can round them all up and make a nice revolution in a chicken coop

as long as it's not too big! - And so what?

And so it's over!

Get out of here, get out!

And call the girl. - The girl? No, no, I'm staying here.

All right, we'll talk about it.

Pss, he wants you, for your baptism.

Director?

Were you leaving?

Yes, but if you need need me...

I need you.

Come.

Close the door.

Cesare Rossi?

It depends.

We're only disturbing you for a moment.

"A land of the free and equal, without distinction of sex

of race, of language, of class, and of religion."

"Free and equal."

"Where the lives of citizens should not only be worthy,

but beautiful, beautiful and worthy."

"Lived on magnificently by the man reshaped by freedom."

That's beautiful, director.

You know how to touch the heart.

They are D'Annunzio's words.

I merely published them.

They are the principles of Fiume's Constitution.

I got everything wrong, my child, everything.

I should have stayed by the side of the Poet, ace of the skies

war hero, content myself to shine his reflected light.

Waiting patiently, under father's protective wing.

Gutted is the man who does not know his own limits.

Here is another one. What do you want?

Go ahead, Bianca.

Thank you.

Earlier, I met some guys.

We represent Italians concerned about the state of country,

about the future of the economy, about productivity

about the security of our families.

Bourgeois pusillanimity, that's what it is.

Anguished at the mere thought of losing some miserable comfort.

What do they want from us?

We feel the need of a levee to the red flood,

a levee that, we argue, can only be black.

♪ Oh, come to my heart.

- Do they want our help? - That's right.

- Those vermin? - That's right.

And going against the laborers who are starving,

and struggle as best they can to improve an infamous state of life.

While landowners are getting fat without restraint.

Yes.

Against the workers, who work 14 hours a day,

for the profit of industrialists.

Who do not even deign to visit them in the factories.

- Yes, yes. Against everybody.

Against the weak, the oppressed, the exploited,

against everything for which we have consecrated our lives,

our struggle, Cesarino. - And indeed.

Shameless, for fuck's sake.

Why on earth would we put ourselves on the side of the vampires?

Socialists of Italy, we solemnly promise,

to demonstrate to the philosophers of the reactionary bourgeoisie.

♪ For Benito, Mussolini, eja eja alalà ♪

Open up!

Open up!

to the petty rulers from the Savoia monarchy,

that the vitality of socialism is perennial! It is perennial!

Long live socialism and long live the revolution!

Go to work!

Run, coward, run!

"Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!"

"Ta-ta pic-pac-pum!"

"Offer yourself, offer yourself, offer yourself,

offer yourself as a gift to my poet friends, painters,

musicians, ru-no-si-ti,

fu-tu-ri-sts. Zang!"

"Tumb! Zang! Zang!"

"Tumb!"

"Shrieking at the top of your lungs, under bites, slaps,

Zang. Zang. Whip, pic-pum-pam."

"Boom!"

"Pam-pam-pac!"

"Zang. Tumb. Tumb!"

Socialists of Italy,

we promise...

socialism is forever!

It is forever!

It is forever!

Socialism is forever!

- Traitor! - Socialism is forever.

Traitor! Traitor!

Traitor!

Traitor!

"Albino, my protege.

The valiant Amerigo.

I love them, I love the action, who performs it.

I love the brave, the one who snaps, those who act and react.

I admire those who dare, those who lash out against the enemy.

With a knife between his teeth, heedless of death.

My people, my new people,

the people of fear.

The hideous tenderness of these ragged jackets,

of these little coats.

The poignant mediocrity of these clerical folders,

shopkeepers' shirts impoverished by the crisis,

Petty bourgeois frightened by chaos."

♪ For Benito Mussolini.

♪ Eja eja alalà.

Bravo!

The choice...

the choice between the two civilizations...

..is simple.

The bourgeoisie has on its shoulders a centuries-long history of progress

and achievements.

The proletariat,

still only a chronicle of inexperience and follies.

Against the false peddlers, the coward socialists,

the imbeciles of all kinds,

I raise high and clear the cry: Long live reaction!

Bravo!

Eh, no. We are revolutionaries! We will not go toward reaction!

We are reactionary in the sense that we intend to

react to all subversive currents of national life!

And we'll be revolutionaries as often as necessary,

to ferment new live forces!

Go. Go!

Go, go, we have no need for extravagant buffoons.

Out!

Zang-Zan, huh! tun-dun-bum-zan-tun!

Go, Marinetti, hearts up high!

Let us hurl ourselves at the enemy!

Right!

Against the red beast.

Let us make a battering ram of all our lives,

let us defend our security,

let us mutate fear...

..into hatred!

Duce!

Uh!

Eja eja, alalà.

Are you back?

An era is over.

The world, as it used to work, doesn't work anymore.

- You want to tell me where we're going? - Patience.

Liberal democracies are collapsing, Margarita.

All it takes is a little push and everything comes down.

And it doesn't matter who will give this nudge, industrialists,

shopkeepers, poets...

- Stay here. - ..landowners.

Revolutionary is he who the revolution makes it. Gorgeous, come here.

Voilà!

New era, new

newspaper headquarters.

The editor's room.

Thank you, thank you.

Well, to work, come on.

To work.

Come on, get out of here. And I told you to hurry up.

The last touch, learning to fly.

Like D'Annunzio,

The Poet, ace of the skies and war hero.

The Superman.

And as he says, "Life is beautiful,

and worthy to be magnificently lived by the man reshaped by freedom."

The engine! It is losing revs.

- How? - We have to land!

The engine is not going. We're going down!

Take the controls, for God's sake!

They're stuck.

They're stuck?

Rachele! Rachele!

Enough!

You're dad has to rest, be quiet!

More than the crash, the pain in the ass will kill me.

It's mathematical, a real man,

cannot last more than seven consecutive days with his family.

- Will you give us a penny? - Will you give us a penny?

I don't have anything.

- Will you give us a penny? - That's enough.

- I need to talk to him. - She's resting.

She, here?

The doctor said that he has to stay in bed.

I'm awake, Rachele! Rachele, I'm awake!

Mrs. Sarfatti.

- Director. - "Madam." - How are you?

You know, I'm thick-skinned.

I've heard that there is something urgent.

Rachel, thank you.

Rachele.

Benito, no.

- Not here. - What do you mean no?

I am dying and you reject me?

How long has it been since your wife has changed the sheets?

Eh...

- Ah! - Uh-huh.

The air is stale.

So the urgency was not an excuse to see me.

The president of the Council has resigned.

Nitti? The Cagoia?

Overwhelmed by the crisis and by the inability to restore order.

But this is wonderful news.

Wait, in his place, the king has put...

Who?

The Honorable, Giovanni Giolitti.

I am not afraid of anything and of no one.

I will stop all violence, from whichever side it comes.

Socialists, fascists, I will look no one in the face.

Order will be restored.

80 years old. Lifelong congressman, five times head of government.

Giolitti is not a coward like Nitti.

Giolitti is an old fox.

He is diabolical, like a magician.

He is an old liberal whore. And like all old whores,

he knows his trade.

Some people have such a punchable face!

One should throw them out the window!

Eh, from the window, easier said than done.

He is 2 meters tall, weighs 90 kilos.

- But who? - Who? Giolitti!

Don't change the subject, eh.

I was talking about her, the lady.

Rachele!

Don't get any ideas.

Benito?

Where are you going?

The doctor said you should stay at home!

I don't care what he said! Don't wait for me, I'm going to be late.

One day he'll come back, and he won't find me.

Benito?

One has to go to the press, a position must be taken.

Benito?

One has to go to the press, a position must be taken.

We greet, favorably, the return of Giolitti,

as the only statesman capable of bringing back social balance

and restoring internal order.

Hmm?

Do you really think so, editor?

Of course not, you moron.

For us, the social balance, order, would be ruinous.

We need chaos. Chaos, fear, hatred.

And that would really be able to restore calm.

It's just that until we understand how Giolitti plans to move,

we must be cautious.

How clever is Cesarino.

But it is true that it would be advisable

to figure out quickly how he plans to move.

When I kill him, it will be a death slow, painful, a scene...

Well? Come on, come on! To make the paper, come on!

And send me Ceccato.

Looking for me, director?

Come, my little one, come. Close the door.

I would need...

- I must tell you something. - What?

It's yours.

And how do you know it's mine?

Well, I only ever did it with you.

Good girl.

Now we'll fix that, ok?

What, no?

I want to keep it.

You want to keep it?

The family. Remember that there is nothing more important.

Oh, God.

What did you do?

You're feeling sick?

Huh?

It's a bad time, Chiletta.

Eh.

But I thank you for your patience.

We fascists are firmly determined.

Firmly determined, we fascists, not to... "Titta, frinta, tenta.

"No excess will be spared. None."

Mh-mh. His Excellency the Prefect awaits you, Mussolini.

Mussolini.

His Excellency the President Giolitti greatly appreciated

the sober and balanced position of his newspaper.

Good. And I am here, precisely to underscore it.

I would imagine.

But I would like to do it with the President of the Council.

That is not possible. His Excellency is very busy.

Right now he is negotiating an important agreement

between industrialists and the strikers.

Well...

...just in that regard, I wanted to tell the president...

...that we fascists are ready to respect order and legality.

But should the government's attempt to curb the excesses

of the socialist extremists, fail...

...you see, we...

...we would spare no excesses to oppose the Bolshevik drift.

No excess will be spared.

None.

The clerks ask us, the shopkeepers,

those who own only a minuscule piece of land.

The productive classes ask us for it, and the homeland,

industrious and devoted to Christianity.

I will report.

Hmm.

Yes?

Very well.

The government's first attempt to curb the socialist excesses,

as you call them, has succeeded.

In exchange for the return of the factories,

wage increases will be granted.

Revolution in exchange of a plate of lentils.

Along with the promise of labor union

and profit sharing.

A promise you will never keep.

Take care of yourself, Mussolini.

Cesare.

- The date, the date. - Caesar.

All right. Goodbye, thank you.

What's wrong?

I had a nightmare, Cesarino.

I saw the end.

A disaster. The apocalypse.

Social peace.

I threatened an intensification of our actions,

the prefect did not flinch. He made us do the dirty work.

Now they will put in place the socialists.

- Goodbye. - Sorry, but it was to be expected.

Slow, painful.

It all makes sense. Actually, during elections we should...

What elections?

"Les jeux sont faits."

Giolitti just announced them. It's clear, isn't it?

He wants to capitalize on the results he has been able to achieve.

He makes a big list with all the anti-socialist forces.

Well, nobody is more anti-socialist than I am.

Exactly, if we don't also get on that list...

Ally ourselves with Giolitti?

Of course, Benito, of course,

in the next election those who are afraid of the socialists

will vote for those who have a better chance of beating them.

It takes away my new people.

If not, for us it ends like last time.

A handful of votes, jail time...

And Giolitti is not the Cagoia, Nitti.

Giolitti leaves you behind bars.

Sleeping with the old liberal whore. Hmm?

Assuming the whore, even though old, wants it.

Tell Giolitti that the fascists, in the elections,

are ready to side with the traditional parties,

against the socialists.

All on the same list.

Eh, I mean, Mussolini, you make it sound easy.

I assure you that it is not easy at all.

But neither is it easy for the traditional ones.

You understand, you have a reputation, let's say... questionable.

Hypocrites. They used us and now they turn their noses up.

The violence you practice is embarrassing.

We are violent as often as it is necessary to be.

Ours is a violence... chivalrous.

Here.

And explain to the president, that if he want to eradicate violence,

the best way to do it is to allow a force like ours

to exercise its vigor in institutional venues.

It is convenient for everyone.

In politics, as in life, one does not marry for love.

If we were to remain outside the parliament,

a force like ours, without a legal outlet, has no alternative.

Is this a threat?

It is an easy prediction.

Those who cannot be heard in parliament, must make themselves heard outside.

Eh, yes...

..one does not marry for love, but one must get along,

at least inside the house.

For example, Fiume.

What about Fiume?

Well, it's an illegal occupation.

It seems clear to me that the government cannot tolerate it.

If the urgency arises to dislodge D'Annunzio...

..what would the fascists do?

"My dear Commander,

the long silence has not dimmed my voice,

nor has my devotion dimmed. One must, however..."

"We must, however, now, specify our objectives,

in order to move, stir and direct the national consciousness."

Again? All he can do is specify, distinguish, quibble.

Out there are two battleships, eight destroyers,

I don't know how many artillery garrisons, and all he does is quibble.

Write, comrade Samurai, write.

"Comrade, absent and frigid..."

Fuck, he never abstains from offending.

"Here they are preparing to commit the crime."

"Are you ready with your people to invade the police headquarters?"

"To storm the prefectures?"

How can you expect me to assault?

What am I to assault? Save yourself, rather. Don't get yourself killed!

Give yourself up. People don't know even where Fiume is.

Do you want it? Ask for it! Try to ask!

Give up. You old fool.

Let yourself be saved.

- You know what D'Annunzio is to me. - Yes, I do.

- A father. - A pain in the ass.

And now you have a chance to make it go away.

When I look at myself now, do you know what I see?

The man I hated as a boy.

Giavazzi!

Giavazzi!

- Tell me. - Giavazzi!

Director.

Let's make our voices heard against the vile attack on Fiume

and on D'Annunzio.

Headline, cubital: "The Crime!"

Subheading: "All Italy, rise up!"

"There are dreams, ideals, symbols, that a man cannot sacrifice."

"For without ideals, symbols and values,

a man simply cannot exist."

He assured me.

Calling for revolt, rising up, shouting out one's outrage.

Appearances. He's just trying to keep up the appearances.

But without moving a finger.

A man, to become a man, must kill his father.

Here we are alone again.

Alone against everyone.

With our lonely courage.

The dream of a better world dies with us.

Election night May 16th, 1921

- So? - The socialists have won again.

And we...

What about us?

One.

Two.

Three.

A triumph!

Silence!

Twelve.

Rachele. One triumph.

A triumph, Rachele.

I'm among the ten with the most votes nationally.

Nationally, Rachele.

I'm the lead candidate in Milan.

I'm the lead candidate in Bologna, for God's sake.

We bring 40 deputies to Rome, Rachele. 40!

This will be the best time of our life. Remember that.

You'll move to Rome, then?

Of course.

With her?

Again with this, Rachele.

Glory by Benito Mussolini

"The scene is majestic.

The king's throne towers above the courtroom,

which begins to populate itself of the newly elected deputies.

And for the first time in the history of the Kingdom, he welcomes us.

The children of the new century, the fascists."

Welcome.

Good morning, everyone.

"Giolitti, the giant.

He thinks he has tamed us, but instead he only legalized us.

He let us in where we were not supposed to enter.

There they are, the socialists."

I am like the beasts, I feel the times coming.

And no matter how, my time has come.

What does it matter if I have become the man I hated as a boy.

I am a coherent beast, I betrayed everyone.

I betray even myself.