All language subtitles for Slap the Monster on Page One (1972) (1080p BluRay x265 10bit r00t).eng

This film was restored in 4K
by the Cineteca di Bologna Foundation

in partnership with Surf Film,
Minerva Pictures, Rarovideo

and Kavac Film,
under Marco Bellocchio's supervision.

Video and sound digitised
by Augustus Color

and restored in 2024
by L'Immagine Ritrovata.

Italians, if you would still
be called "men"

come together now,
regardless of factions and parties!

Regardless of the divisions
sowed by occult interests!

Move past the outdated,
anachronistic

and overplayed paradigm
of fascism and anti-fascism!

Unite now to say "yes"
to the freedom of order!

Our present demonstration
aims to show

that it's possible
to defeat communism!

It's possible to defeat
the enemies of Italy!

And so we will, together.
Long live Italy!

Kill those bastards!
- Kill them all!

Communism shall not pass!
Communism shall not pass!

Communism shall not pass!
Communism shall not pass!

FRANCO COMMITTERI
PRESENTS

Fascist losers, back to your sewers!
Fascist losers, back to your sewers!

SLAP THE MONSTER ON PAGE ONE

FREELY ADAPTED FROM A SCRIPT
BY SERGIO DONATI

SCREENPLAY ADAPTED
BY GOFFREDO FOFI

COSTUMES BY
FRANCO CARRETTI

SET DESIGN BY
DANTE FERRETTI

MUSICAL SOUNDTRACK
BY NICOLA PIOVANI

CONDUCTED
BY GIANFRANCO PLENIZIO

EDITED BY
RUGGERO MASTROIANNI

CINEMATOGRAPHY BY
ERICO MENCZER & LUIGI KUVEILLER

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER
CLAUDIO MANCINI

PRODUCED BY
UGO TUCCI

Fascists, exploiters,
you will not see the dawn!

The new partisan movement
is starting to catch on!

Fascists, exploiters,
you will not see the dawn!

DIRECTED BY
MARCO BELLOCCHIO

VOTE FOR NENCIONI

VOTE FOR THE SOCIALIST PARTY

VOTE FOR THE LIBERALS

VOTE FOR SPADOLINI

VOTE FOR THE COMMUNISTS

VOTE FOR THE ITALIAN
SOCIAL MOVEMENT

CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY

DEMOCRATIC SOCIALISM

VOTE FOR THE ITALIAN
SOCIALIST PARTY

Comrade Feltrinelli,
you will be avenged!

Comrade Feltrinelli,
you will be avenged!

Comrade Feltrinelli,
you will be avenged!

Fly the red flag,
fly the red flag

March onward, people,
to revolution

Fly the red flag to victory

Fly the red flag to victory

Fly the red flag to victory

Fly the red flag to victory

Long live communists,
long live the free!

Long live Marx! Long live Lenin!
Long live Mao Zedong!

Burn down the capitalists' press!

Where's the police?!

Forget it, get away!

Burn down the capitalists' press!

Burn down the capitalists' press!

Fight hard, fight without fear!

Fight hard, fight without fear!

Fight hard, fight without fear!

They're trying to Kill us!

You damn hobos!
- What are you doing?

Move away. Wait, wait!
You, photographer!

Those bloody criminals!

Take a picture, quick.

Did you take it?
Now you can extinguish it.

Where were you?!

We do our duty!
You have to do yours!

Calm down! Calm down!

If the police isn't enough,
bring in the army!

Calm down!
Those responsible will pay!

You must understand
our indignation and dismay, Mr DA.

Everything has its limit.

A day like this, Milan in turmoil,
extremist gangs in the streets!

And you leave me
without protection?

Il Giornale has always defended you,
even when you didn't deserve it.

I'm mortified, Professor.
It was completely unexpected.

Alas, we can't be
everywhere at once.

Look at that! What a mess!

Look! That's where rocks
crashed through our window.

They threw all kinds of stuff!
Bottles, rocks...

This was a Molotov cocktail.
Those criminals!

Have you seen everything?
- I have.

Did you inform Mr Montelli?

Sadly, I haven't been able
to get hold of him.

Please try again, Bizanti.
- I'll take care of it.

Beg your pardon,
but we're late for the first edition.

You, come with me.

Another picture, please!
Thank you.

Just one more.

This is all we could photograph.
- Very well.

NEW EVIDENCE OF
RIGHT-WING WEAPONS TRAFFICKING

See you soon, my good man.
- Of course.

I hope you'll return the favour.
- Naturally.

Goodbye, Commissioner.

Hello, this is Bizanti.
- It's Mr Bizanti.

Hello.

I assume you've heard.
Guerrilla, like in '68.

Always on the front lines!

Damage was minimal.
Some broken windows, a lot of panic.

The police arrived
when everything was over.

All the better.

Well, then.

The whole front page,
and as many as you can spare inside.

Lots of pictures,
and an alarmed editorial.

I think this could favour
our other interests.

The Left-wing press'
electoral speculation

is unprecedented
in its shamelessness.

They're way over the line.
It must end.

All our friends are saying
they've had enough.

That is precisely what I meant.

This assault was well-timed.
It will overshadow everything else.

For once, we get to play the victims
in the public eye.

"Even Mussolini's
and Farinacci's death squads

"stayed their hands
in the face of such...

"extreme acts of aggression against

"those most courageous
representatives and defenders...

"of one of the most
supreme values..."

No.

Strike out "most," Miss.

"...of one of the supreme values
of Western civilisation," colon:

"The freedom of the press."
Full stop, new line.

RED GUERRILLA
AT THE EVE OF THE ELECTION

DRAMATIC CLASHES IN MILAN YESTERDAY

BETWEEN RIOTER GROUPS
AND THE POLICE

BURNED CARS, HUNDREDS WOUNDED,
PASSERBY KILLED BY RIOTERS

MOLOTOV COCKTAILS AGAINST
IL GIORNALE'S HEADQUARTERS

Il Giornale.
- Go ahead.

Reporting for duty, sir.
- When will the...

Do you know who she is?
- No, she had no ID on her.

Who found her?
- Some kids coming out of school.

Was she raped, Doctor?
- Yes, without a doubt.

Let's go full circle.

"Uncertain ideals, certain TNT."

"The strategy of violence,"
colon: "Blood again."

"The '70s nihilists."

"Anti-democratic assault troops."

"Molotov cocktails
are just the beginning."

"The new demons."

"The Right wing runs a red light."

"The way of violence."

"The red and the black."

"Childishness and dynamite
between red and black."

"The underclass and struggling
billionaires: A violent union."

"Full circle: Fascists and far-left
united by explosives."

Local news?

Only that girl they found dead
in Naviglio Pavese.

Do we know who she is?
- Not yet.

The police are reviewing missing persons'
reports from the last days.

But she could be
from outside Milan.

Was she raped?
- Looks like it.

They haven't performed
an autopsy yet.

Give this to Roveda.
- Yes, I agree.

But check his article before printing.
He's inexperienced.

Maybe add a short article
about a sexual crime resurgence.

How many rows?

I'd say 30.
- Understood.

Here are the photos.

Today's Giornale was a drag.
Too many boring pieces.

What's that?
Porn, like yesterday's?

Here.

Don't mess up like the other time.

You put a plane crash
and an airline ad on the same page.

Yeah, this will do.

This is the one.

If nothing better pops up...

I'm hoping for a hijacking,
that would move some copies.

Or a nice massacre.

Look for Roveda and send him
to me right away, please.

The inauguration
Suffered a brief delay...

Oh, there you are, Roveda!
Sit over there.

...from the back entrance,
as the front door was...

Do you know how many copies
Il Giornale sells?

500,000.

Every reader that counts
in this country.

Some also read other papers,
with different points of view

but in the end,
they put their trust in us.

To hear from our voice
a level-headed final word.

And that voice, Roveda,
must remain consistent.

From the first line of our editorial
down to the last ad.

Yes, I agree.

Who is our reader?

A calm, honest,
order-loving man...

who works, produces,
and creates income.

But he's also a tired man, Roveda.
He's fed up.

Instead of going to school,
his children

wage war in the streets of Milan.

His employees are
ever more demanding

his government is absent,
his country is in chaos.

He opens Il Giornale to find
a serene, balanced opinion.

And what does he find?

Your article, Roveda.

I copied, word for word,
your drophead and title.

"Unemployed man
commits desperate act.

"Father of five sets self on fire."

I'm no linguistics professor.

I won't lecture you
on news-applied semantics.

But it seems clear to me
that the word "desperate"

sounds like an accusation.

If you put it together
with "unemployed"...

"Desperate." "Unemployed."

Then we're dealing
with a genuine provocation.

I don't...

And after such provocation,
you take our poor reader

and throw five orphans and
a charred body in his face.

I mean, what are we trying
to turn him into? A neurotic?

Was he the one
who set that man on fire?

Shall we rewrite
this title together?

We all make mistakes,
don't we?

Write!

"Tragic suicide."

Two simple words.
"Tragic suicide of..."

Where was he from, Calabria?

Yes.
- "...of an immigrant."

"Immigrant."
Another simple word.

It implies that he was
an unemployed father of five

but adds one more layer.
- Sure.

Just the gist of the story.
A summary.

Our reader glances at the headline

and decides whether
he wants to read further.

Without us trying
to make him feel guilty.

Without feeling responsible
for every death in this world.

At any rate,
your article is excellent.

Maybe a couple of words too long,
some adjectives to be polished.

That "fired," for instance.

"Left without a job?"

"Left without a job."
Well done!

Keep at it, Roveda.
You have what it takes.

Re-type it and take it
directly to typesetting.

Just looking costs 50 grand.
100 to take your clothes off.

Here they are!

Professor Martini!
- Please let us through!

One more picture, Professor!

Professor!

Professor, look this way!

It's my daughter.

RAPE AND MURDER VICTIM
FINALLY HAS A NAME

THE GIRL WAS PROFESSOR
ITALO MARTINI'S DAUGHTER

We're from Il Giornale.
- Fifth floor.

My condolences, Madam.

My condolences, Professor.
- Thank you.

Roveda, one of our collaborators.
- Roveda.

Good morning.
- Professor.

We're ashamed to intrude
upon your grief this way.

Come, I'll show you her room.
- Thank you.

Come.

Have you read about
that American affair?

That maniac from Oklahoma,
obsessed with little girls.

He raped over 400,
and then asked to be castrated.

His type should be castrated
at the first sign of abnormality.

Maybe that's the only solution.

This is it.
- May I enter?

No, wait.

Could we take a picture
with the child on the bed?

Go.

That's enough.

So, let's recap.

The autopsy said...
What was the wording, Lauri?

"Death by suffocation
caused by strangulation.

"Traumatic laceration
of the hymen."

There we go.
Let's insist on her virginity.

Back to the front page.
It's only right.

Tell you what:
Lauri, pair up with Roveda

for all contacts with the doctors,
police, and judiciary.

Are they following a trail already?

Well, they're searching
for a random maniac

while interviewing
her teachers and friends.

Apparently, she was an angel.

But all sorts of people
attend the Leopardi school.

Roveda, you could interview
her friends and teachers together.

I want a living portrait
of her character.

Her habits, childhood dreams,
hobbies, what she read...

If Italian mothers want to cry,
we'll make them.

Other suggestions?
- Perhaps...

We could change the
"Letters to the editor" section

to "Letters about Maria Grazia."

Yes, I like that idea.

I would go as far as to dedicate
a whole page to it.

A whole page?

Yes, where's that...
Here we are.

"I'm an eight-year-old girl.

"I've cried a lot for Maria Grazia,
dear Giornale.

"Please publish me
even if I don't write good.

"All the children
and all the mothers

"want the culprit to be found,
because he's a criminal

"and we should have
the death sentence."

"Death," it says.

All caps.

"If you find the one who did it

"give him to us children
and the mothers from school

"and we'll give him
what he deserves."

Blissful innocence!

48 HOURS AFTER
THE DRAMATIC DISCOVERY

MARIA GRAZIA MARTINI AUTOPSIED:
HELPLESS VIRGINITY

DEATH TO MARIA GRAZIA'S KILLER

What kind of car was it?
- A yellow Fiat 500.

I noticed it because,
these past few days

it kept circling the school.

Did you see the plates?

No, I didn't see the number.

Anyway, the car was there
that day as well.

When Maria Grazia left,
someone called and gestured to her.

Did you see his face?
- No, I only saw his hand from the car.

Any news?
- Oh, hi.

They're questioning the janitor.

It seems he saw Maria Grazia
leave in a yellow Fiat 500.

What about you?
- No one wants to talk.

How can you be sure
it was Maria Grazia?

Well, a lot of parents
at this school

ask me to keep an eye
on their kids when they leave.

See who they talk to,
who picks them up.

So did Professor Martini.

Bye.

Beg your pardon... Pardon me.

Did you know Maria Grazia?
- Yes, why?

I'm a reporter with II Giornale.
Could you tell me about her?

How much can you pay?

I'm a journalist.
I don't make money from this.

Then forget it.
- Fascist!

"R.Z." is Rita Zigai.

She's a night school teacher here,
but lives in Brera.

Oh, sorry.

Hangs out with hippies.
She's half a revolutionary herself.

This letter is interesting.
It's worth pursuing.

I don't know.

She's deluded.
Just another '68 convert.

A basket case, in short.

But she was a police informant.
Something about drugs.

What was her name again?

Rita Zigai.
- Sorry, give me a minute.

Anyway, we must be careful.
It might be trouble.

What about this Mario Boni?

May be someone she slept with,
and then left her.

Maybe she wanted revenge.

I'll handle it myself.

Meanwhile, get me Zigai's address.
- Very well.

Come, come.
How did it go?

Pretty well, I'd say.

People are clamouring
for the death penalty.

Not that I'm surprised.

With all the recent unrest,
almost all the interviewed agreed.

That's enough interviews for now.
You should edit them.

But let's tone it down
on the death penalty.

It's a double-edged sword.

Today they ask
for the death penalty.

Tomorrow they'll march
to abolish it.

Italians are kind-hearted.

You do the editing.
I have faith in you.

Calm down.
- Don't get upset.

That's the one.

Yes, Maria Grazia got in this car.

What are you doing?
- What's...?

Wait!
- Calm down! Stop!

Swine! You bastard!

You swine!

You pig bastard!

You bastard!

Bizanti's waiting for you.
- Thank you.

This is the one!
This is it!

Good morning!
- Good morning.

That's the car.
It belonged to Mario Boni.

Who's that?
- An anarchist.

Are we the first to know?
- Sure, as we agreed.

Commissioner,
don't spread the news yet.

I need 24 hours,
in our shared interest.

I may have a good lead.
- Alright.

But shouldn't we
follow it together?

Her father will never forgive me!

Not this time.
But if you don't feel like it

I could speak
with the DA directly.

But you'd lose an opportunity.

Just give me 24 hours.

As you wish, sir.
- The murderer must feel safe.

My regards, sir.
- Goodbye.

IS HE FUNDING FASCIST GANGS?

SEARING ACCUSATIONS
AGAINST FAMOUS MILAN INDUSTRIALIST

MONTELLI THE EXPLOITER
IS A FASCIST FINANCER

THE FIGUREHEADS' DAYS ARE NUMBERED

Good evening.
- Good evening.

They're out of line.

And they're singling me out,
as if I were alone in this.

It's grown past rumours,
at this point.

It's increasingly likely
that I'll be incriminated.

Let's cut to the chase, Bizanti.

I'll move my pawns,
but it might not be enough.

The election is near.
Very near.

They've inflated
this scandal far enough.

Any time now, it could blow up.

There are some facts that
allow us an efficient counter-attack.

Feltrinelli couldn't have died
at a better time.

The attack on Il Giornale
was also useful.

But maybe we need
something more emotional

and less explicitly election-based.

Surely you've followed
the Martini case through our paper.

Here she is, the little girl.

All tears are for her.

Martini, her father, has gotten
tons of publicity from II Giornale.

Especially our articles about
his heart surgeries

for poor children,
mainly immigrants...

Remember that?

An exemplary person.

You see, I meant to ask
for your approval...

as to how this case
should be handled.

Should we inform objectively

waiting for the police
to identify a culprit...

or should we throw
our hat in the ring...

and actively contribute?

If you think it's worth it,
go ahead.

Of course,
we should find the murderer

before the election, in time for...

That would also make
our friends happy.

They don't want
the tension to drop.

We could build up the case.
Even if our murderer...

even if our "monster"
isn't perfect...

But maybe he will be.
Who can say?

Bitch.

"The power will no longer be
in the bourgeois' hands."

As if she were anything different.

"Today is my birthday.
17 and I'm already old."

Bitch.

"Statistics: In her lifetime,
a woman uses 100kg of lipstick.

"A man eats half of it".

What an intellectual!

"Man on the horizon!"

Give me a break.
What a cocksucker!

She put out to any man she saw,
and all at once.

I put out too, who doesn't?

But one man at a time!
It's not worth the hassle.

Mario, is that you?

Pardon me,
are you Ms Rita Zigai?

Drop the "Ms."
Who are you? What do you want?

My name is Bizanti,
I'm a journalist.

So? What newspaper?
What's it got to do with me?

Il Giornale.
You sent us a letter.

I wrote no letter.

Don't worry, I'm not a policeman.
I'm just a working man.

My, what a pain.
- Let me in for a second.

"Just a working man."

You lot are worse than the cops.

Hey! Don't snoop around
like you own the place!

Sorry.

Don't you think your distrust
is a bit excessive?

I'm only here to exchange ideas.

We think your contribution
might be valuable.

That letter is important.

What letter?
I said I didn't write anything!

I understand, you know.

Making a choice is hard.

Especially if personal
relationships are involved.

Anyway, this matches what
I thought of you as a woman.

What did you think?

I thought you'd be a woman
with a strong personality.

Yes, fine.
I wrote that letter.

I wrote it,
but it was all bollocks.

I was wrong to write it,
I've changed my mind.

And why should I talk about
my personal affairs?

If you want me to leave,
I will.

I really thought I could help you.

Maybe you could talk
to somebody else about it.

Yes, yes, it's true.

You're right,
I need to talk. But not here.

Fine...
- My God, the coffee!

I do need to talk,
I'm always alone.

I never talk,
only monologue and mutter.

Have you noticed?
No one talks since the atom bomb.

I'm here waiting
for someone to come by

but no one does,
if I'm being honest.

Still, your newspaper is shit,
you know?

There's one thing
I don't want to become.

A half-revolutionary half-wit,
like some of my pathetic colleagues.

So, better to write consciously
for a shitty paper

than to try and save your soul
by biting the hand that feeds you.

Nowadays,
we can't afford to be romantic.

Even when we're young.

I don't understand their idealism.

I'm not enchanted
by their "freedom."

Maybe it's different as a teacher.
Fewer compromises.

The chance to communicate
directly with the youth...

and offer them our life experience.

You have a strange way
of drawing me in.

I feel good talking to you.

Maybe because we're alike.

We have the same problems,
at least.

Spare 100 liras?
- Should I give it to him?

Not if you want him to scram.
- What do you need it for?

I need it to eat.

First of all, it's not dinnertime.
Second, it's not enough.

Then give me 1,000.

You'll have to earn it,
same as I do.

Hey!
- Hi.

Can your friend donate some cash
to the alternative press?

Of course.
Long live the alternative press!

Where's Mario?
Still fighting for the workers?

Tell him that
if he wants an addiction

pot is better than class warfare.

What do I care about Mario?
I never see him.

Bye!
- Bye.

They should be re-educated
in forced labour camps.

Or gas chambers!
- "Fiat is shit, Fiat is shit..."

Today's youth.

One night you see a boy...
Who knows where he's from.

Just one of many,
not even handsome.

With eyes that ask for something,
while pretending to give.

And you're so desperate.

So what about the age difference?

It wasn't an issue to him.

He could eat, drink,
and sleep for free.

And he could have me for free.
He had no problems.

But I did.

I loved him. I still do.

I don't even know anymore.

Then, one day...

he switched
to girls with miniskirts.

Like that Maria Grazia.

And then there are
the comrades...

The guys saluting
with their fist, like this.

Thick as thieves, as whores.

So what about me?

What should I do?

I wait.

In the morning, in the evening.
Will he come or what?

I pluck daisies.

The comrades...

They lay it on you thick,
with their ageism.

They say I'm decadent.

Because to them,
love is decadent.

Please don't worry,
I have no intention of assaulting you.

You're anything but
a decadent woman.

We are positive people.

Therefore, we must react.

I do react.

I write letters,
then I feel guilty and say I never did.

You know,
you could write an amazing article.

No, I won't write anything.

I'm pissed because a woman like you
is wasted like this.

Throw him out.
What are you waiting for?

As soon as he finds another skirt,
he'll leave you.

Miss Maria Grazia was a slut.

A slut, like all the rest.

She liked it.
Oh, did she like it.

The day she was murdered,
they were together.

He came to my place for dinner.

He was upset.
They had a huge fight.

And I felt good,
because in that moment...

he was mine, you know?
He was mine.

I put him to bed and cuddled him.

Before I went to school,
I gave him a sleeping pill.

I waited until he fell asleep.

Because he needs me,
but he won't admit it.

The next day,
his comrades came.

"Tell everyone that yesterday

"Mario was at a meeting
with us at Francesco's."

He sends people to give me orders.

What then? Where is he?
With whom?

Licking his wounds,
or getting them licked.

And what the hell
am I supposed to do? Wait?

What if I started hating him?

It would be fair, wouldn't it?

What is he doing tonight?

Still sleeping at your place?

Yes.

Yes, he is.

His comrades will pick him up
tomorrow at dawn.

They're going around
putting up posters.

Damn, is it cold!

You didn't sleep much, did you?

Tell Mario to hurry,
it's bloody freezing out here.

Sure, my fucking comrades!
I'll tell Mario!

Hi.

Mario!

Don't go today.
Not today. Stay with me.

Stay with me.

Christ, you never change!
Always breaking my balls!

Let's go.

VOTE FOR THE COMMUNIST PARTY

It's good, glue it on.

THE SLAVERS ARE AFRAID

Hurry up!

Give me the other one.

Put some more glue up here.
- Is this OK?

Now do the other side.

Come, let's put some over there.

Hurry, hurry!

Should we go now?
- Mario! Come here, we're done!

Hurry up!

It's the cops! Go, go!

Get that one!

Stop!
- Let the others go!

Stop right there,
you criminal!

Get in the car!
- God damn you!

Get in, I said!

Fascist pigs!

Mannati!

Did they catch him?

Yes, his name is Mario Boni.

Front page, then?
- Yes, ditch the side article.

Bonvini!

Three columns on the front page,
it's urgent.

Mannati!

Thank you.

Pupo, here's the article.

Enrico, this must
go to print immediately.

And here's
the monster's accomplice.

Colombo, careful with the heading.
- Yes, I know.

The plate fits. Put the heading there.
- Yes.

TWIST IN THE MARTINI CASE

IS MARIA GRAZIA'S KILLER
A LEFT-WING EXTREMIST?

Excellent! Nice layout.

Talk!

So, you know nothing
about these school books?

I already told you, no!

The janitor told us Maria Grazia
left in a yellow Fiat 500

and you and your pals
happened to have the same car!

So it's you who picked her up,
damn you!

I'll say it again.
I knew Maria Grazia

but that afternoon,
I was at a meeting

at Francesco Gatti's place,
13 Foppa street.

I can't have seen her!
I was there from 4 to 8pm.

That's all.
I want to speak to my lawyer!

What lawyer?!
- One from the committee.

Name, surname, address!
What lawyer?

One from the committee!
I have rights!

You freeloaded
off an old lady, huh?

You filth!

I never freeloaded in my life,
you hear me?

An old lady? Here's the idealist youth!
You make me sick!

Who knows what your wife
gets up to, Commissioner!

Smash his face in! Say it again!
Say it again if you dare!

Coward! Say it again!

That hurts, damn you!

This friendship, or acquaintance...
explain it to us.

Maria Grazia was a nice girl,
why would she be with you?

I met her at an assembly,
after a protest.

What does that mean?!

I told you.
We were at Francesco's.

What lies are you selling me?

It's not a lie,
I'm just saying...

Hands down!

I'm just telling you the truth!
I was with her a couple of times.

And what did you do?

That's my damn business!
- Arsehole!

If you don't know,
killing a girl is one thing

but killing and raping is another.

And raping a virgin
is another still!

Her autopsy clearly
mentioned her virginity!

Understood, you piece of shit?

What do you mean, virginity?
What do you mean?!

Are you saying you fucked her?!

Take him away!

You filth!
She was a saint! A saint!

Where's Bizanti?

What are you doing,
barging in like this?

He's in a meeting.
- I don't care!

When he wanted to meet me, he did.
And how, my dear!

I'll call the police!

Oh, you'll call the cops?
You can stick them up your arse!

Go ahead, call them!
You look like the arse-sticking type!

Call Bizanti!
- Lady, where do you think you are?

So prim and proper!

You like your secretaries
squeaky-clean, huh?

Call Mr Bizanti!
Call him!

Let her through.

Just a second.

Take a seat.

"Take a seat?"
Now you're all formal with me!

Of course I'll take a seat.

You clown!

"Just a working man," huh?

Listen, Madam.

I assume you came
for a specific reason.

I'm not playing,
and have no time to lose.

Well, find the time.

We sure found some together,
didn't we?

And let me tell you,
I despise you!

Taking advantage
of a woman like me...

with shattered nerves,
is an act of cowardice.

And everything
I told you was a lie!

I'll deny everything, got it?

Let's not lose our grip on reality.

Such a silver tongue!

You are well known to the police.

I am a respected person.
I could tell them many things.

I could say I saw
Maria Grazia's books at your house.

I burned them!
- I can testify that I saw them.

What's the use of denying,
when Mario himself

confessed to knowing
and seeing Maria Grazia?

When her friends and the janitor

say it was Mario's car she left in
before she was murdered?

Plus...

you know better than I
that Mario was capable of it.

Still, there's nothing you can say
that I cannot refute.

Why would you wish
to go to prison?

For a boy who hates,
despises, and exploits you?

Here's an excerpt
from Mario Boni's interrogation.

"I declare that,
on April 23rd, 1972

"I went to Rita Zigai's house,
as I've often done

"when I lacked a home
and means of supporting myself.

"I thought she was a comrade.

"Or so she said, at least.

"Zigai is just a confused
menopausal woman.

"She stuck to me like a fly...

"...because she was alone.

"She's practically a hobo.

"I only stayed with her out of pity."

Enough...

Being an adult is hard.

Enough. That's enough.

The diary...
- What diary?

Maria Grazia Martini's diary...

I didn't burn it.

Good.

Someone should go
to this press conference.

THE FAR-RIGHT TOOL
IL GIORNALE...

It's dangerous.

...IS RESPONSIBLE
FOR MARIO BONI'S ARREST.

THEY ARE FRAMING HIM
FOR POLITICAL GAIN.

They'll beat us up.

Let's send Roveda.

Let him prove himself!

Their aim is clear:
Discredit the far-Left.

His arrest is the latest
in a string of provocations

that began with the
Piazza Fontana bombing

and Valpreda,
who is still awaiting trial.

Meanwhile, the real culprits
will probably end up in Parliament.

What about this Zigai?
What proof do you have?

We have proof that she
acted as a police informant.

But she's easily blackmailed.
She has zero credibility.

Her relationship with Boni
was entirely occasional.

Not that we care
about his private life.

We believe he's innocent
and will defend him to the end.

It seems you're accusing
this Prof Zigai with no proof.

No, we're not!
- On the basis of pure hearsay.

That's not true at all!
- She's only doing her duty.

We can provide the press
with a litany of testimonies

on Ms Zigai's unreliability.

Who do you work for?
- Il Giornale.

And you have the nerve
to come here?!

This is a democracy!

Go away!

Well done.

It's a provocation!

Let's keep going!
Forget about it.

Can't you see it's a provocation?

Enough is enough!

I told you,
just get on with it!

Don't you get it?
You're playing into their hands!

As I was saying,
a litany of testimonies

on Zigai's unreliability...

Oh! Hello, Roveda.
- Excuse me.

Well, Roveda?
How did it go?

No incidents?

RED THUGS SAVAGELY ATTACK
OUR REPORTER

What happened?
Did they beat you?

Insult you, at least?

Nothing?

Nothing at all?

Well, no rush.
Today's issue is full already.

30 lines will do.

What a pity.

Are we agreed?
I'll stop by our headquarters.

We must strengthen our security.
- See you at the Spanish Walls.

Bye.
- Bye, comrades!

Lock up the slavers,
free our comrades!

Lock up the slavers,
free our comrades!

The state police
are the new S.S.!

The state police
are the new S.S.!

...you shall be freed!

The only justice
is the proletariat's!

Jailed comrades,
you shall be freed!

The only justice
is the proletariat's!

Jailed comrades,
you shall be freed!

The only justice
is the proletariat's!

Jailed comrades,
you shall be freed!

Who could it be?

Who is it?

This time I have a warrant!
Out of the way!

What warrant?
I want to see it!

Keep calm if you know
what's best for you.

Rise and shine,
comrade workers!

Get out and join the others!

Wake up and move!

Where's the rush?
- Move, I said!

STATE-MANDATED SLAUGHTER

Stop that!
- We want our lawyers!

I saw that!
You did it on purpose!

Keep your hands off me!

Stop resisting.

We have the right to an attorney!
Our attorney!

We have the right to an attorney!

Calm down, or else.

ARSENAL FOUND
IN THE KILLER'S DEN

MARIO BONI'S FRIENDS INCRIMINATED

DEMOCRATIC PARTIES SURGE IN POLLS

Good morning, sir.

Let's proceed in order.

The witness Ms Rita Zigai,
who is here with us

states that on the day
of the murder

precisely on March 28th, 1972

from 5 to 8pm,
contrary to what you claimed

there was no meeting
in which Mario Boni took part.

The witness also states that Mario Boni
arrived at her house at 7:45pm

claiming that he had spent the day
with Maria Grazia Martini

and that they'd had a violent spat.

That's a lie!
We had a meeting at Francesco's

from 5 to 8pm,
and Mario was there!

It's true!
- Tell them the truth!

We knew you were a snitch,
but you're also a plant!

Sir, they're insulting
an honest citizen.

Be careful or I'll hold you
in contempt.

Please continue.
- I'm neither a snitch nor a plant!

And as an honest citizen,
I confirm what I already said.

Vitaliano Fabrini phoned me
on March 28th, 1972 at 10:30am

and here's what he said,
word for word:

"You must tell everyone that Mario
was with us yesterday afternoon

from 5 to 8pm, in a meeting
at Francesco's place."

Try and deny it!
- Liar!

Deny it under oath!

All lies!

Was there a phone call or not?
- There was no phone call!

We met at Francesco's place
and Mario was there, from 5 to 8.

And what do you
have to say about this?

It's Maria Grazia Martini's diary.

Boni himself gave it to Ms Zigai

the evening after the crime.

"March 28. I'll meet with Mario
in the afternoon.

"I'm fed up with him.
He's too demanding.

"lI must get rid of him.
He's boring."

We don't know anything about that.

Zigai herself could've written it!

From start to finish!

Cowards...
- How much did they pay you?

How much, huh?
- You spy!

Snitch! You wrote it!

So I wrote that bitch's diary?
What for?

You know why!
To screw us and Mario!

It's clear as day!

Who even cares about Mario?!

I'm here for justice.
Politics got nothing to do with it!

And as for your precious Mario

you lot are defending
a girl's killer!

What the fuck are you saying?
- There's proof!

He's not a murderer!

Sit down!
We're not at the market!

Sit down! Sit down!

You people ruined him.
Took him away from me.

Because you were jealous!

I was helping him...

but you turned him against me,
because he loved me.

He loved me very much.
You told him I was old.

You always hated me!
Always! Always!

Can't you see she's crazy?
We never hated you!

You're an idiot.
No one hated you!

Who said a thing about you and Mario?
It's your business!

You drove Mario away!
You acted like a pain in the ass

trying to keep him home,
isolating him!

Who cares if you're old and ugly?

It was his choice to make!

But you acted like a bourgeois,
a piece of shit fascist!

You're trying to ruin us!

Shut up! I'm not crazy!

I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy!

You should be in an asylum!

Get them out of here!
Out, out!

There, they're coming out!

Quick!

Wait a moment!
Stay back! Don't make a fuss!

Calm down, please!
Let us through!

Miss, tell us something!

What's your relationship with Boni?
- Did he kill her?

Do you trust your memory?
- Were you lovers?

Go away!

Miss, are you a communist
or an anarchist?

Leave a statement, Miss!

As we can clearly glean
from the tyre tracks

the car halted in this spot,
pursuant to an abrupt braking action.

It is conceivable that a brief scuffle
occurred inside the car.

The man was looking
for penetrative carnal contact.

The victim managed to escape
after the attacker made clear

through his lascivious caresses
on her most private parts

that he was animated
by nothing more than his base instincts.

There was a brief...

"Capture proof of guilt
from the accused's expression."

So they said.

The prosecutor
is classically educated.

It's grotesque.

Everything about
the Martini case is.

There's not much left to uncover.
Everything fits to a tee.

It was obvious from the start.

Disgusting pigs!
You make me sick!

You are the monsters, not me!

You perverted shits!
Sexual deviants! Freaks!

Typical. The last defence.

Accusing others
of his own perversions.

Take him away!
- You filthy pigs!

Seized by the monster,
the victim surely tried to wriggle free.

Perhaps she managed to escape,
if but for a moment

from her assaulter's lust.

What were you trying to tell me?

Don't play dumb, Roveda.

It's not the first time Lauri
cooperates with the police

in finding the perfect culprit.

Are you not working in tandem?

This Mario... He's too convenient
for your paper's owner.

It'll be raining votes.

Indirect propaganda is the best kind,
don't you know?

At the cost of sounding like an idiot,
I swear I know nothing.

You can't afford to be an idiot
in this line of work.

While you write lifestyle pieces,
Bizanti and Lauri fabricate culprits.

They're playing the hard game.

You have a workers' committee,
the right of assembly.

What more do you want?

Send a written request
to sales management.

Pardon me, Bizanti.
I need to speak with you.

Is it urgent?
- It's a delicate matter.

There's no other way,
do as I said. Come.

What is it, Roveda?

It's about the Martini case.

I've learned something I ignored.
- Namely?

You paired me up
with Lauri for a reason

and following a specific plan.

Of course, to each his own task.
Did he overstep?

Let me be very explicit.
I'm absolutely convinced

that you were pulling
Lauri's strings.

I beg you to speak more clearly.
- I will.

I have two questions for you.

First, was Zigai found by Lauri

and then persuaded
to accuse Mario Boni?

Did Il Giornale make up a culprit

based on the half-testimony
of a poor woman

driven mad by jealousy?

You entrusted me with a case

and then took it away
behind my back.

Listen...
- Second question.

This case was blown
out of proportion

for plain electoral purposes.

Do you believe an election
is enough to justify your dishonesty?

Are you criticising
our political stance

or giving me a lecture
on professional ethics?

You used me like a puppet!

You're only a puppet
if you want to be, Roveda.

Listen...

You have a future here.

You're a good journalist,
not a career-chaser.

You're much more honest than Lauri

but he has fewer hang-ups,
and knows a lot of people.

He has an excellent
network of informants.

Thanks to him,
we managed to dodge a few bullets

and we often beat
other papers to the punch.

I know that.
I wasn't born yesterday.

But this time, it wasn't just about
an informant network, as you say.

It was about giving the police,
the judiciary

and public opinion
a gift-wrapped culprit.

The Martini case is but a symptom
of the situation we're in.

Have you ever wondered
why we receive so many letters?

It's because common citizens
see this murder

as a symbol of our
country's collapse.

People are scared.

But reality should be explained,
reported on objectively.

Instead, you distort it!

You don't mind walking
over people's corpses

as you turn whatever you wish
into a symbol, as you said.

Fine. Here at Il Giornale,
we're provocateurs.

We do not report
the facts objectively.

What's objectivity, Roveda?

Have you asked yourself
who Mario Boni is?

A misfit that rejects
the rules of civil society.

A junkie that bombed our paper.

He attacks workers
who won't go on strike.

He kidnaps executives,
sets fire to their cars.

He hates you too, Roveda.

With your nice sentiments
and harmless idealism.

You think a journalist
iS an unbiased observer.

Let me tell you,
I pity unbiased observers.

We must be protagonists,
not observers.

We are at war!

We too are involved
in the class struggle.

It wasn't invented
by Marx and Lenin!

...the majority of citizens respect
the most basic tenets of society.

But there's also a minority of,
let's say... turbulent people.

And in that minority,
I include perverts

maniacs,
dangerous mental cases...

and also the nihilists that
wish to destroy everything

without ever proposing
a viable alternative.

"Who is the majority?"
you'll ask.

And my answer is:
"Workers. Taxpayers."

There's Daddy. See?

Come on, it's him.
Can't you see? Look.

Look at Daddy on TV.
Come on, don't sleep and watch.

But it's boring!
Let's change the channel!

We can't,
you know he'd feel offended.

Come on, watch.
Listen to Daddy.

I don't understand a thing!

There's Daddy!
Come on, look at him!

It's him, look.

...our children go to school every day,
exposed and defenceless.

It's an urgent issue.

You are very telegenic,
you know?

You look very good.
I'm proud.

We need police intervention,
and harsher sentences.

Institutions should act
with extreme rigour.

If you'll allow, I'd like to voice
a simpler point of view.

Some may mock me for it

but I think it's vital
to underscore this:

The root of evil
goes way farther back.

Man... Man is imperfect!

Sure, we are all imperfect...

You're the best talker there.

But we're dealing
with true criminals here.

Whether they're planting bombs
or raping little girls.

Right, it's no coincidence
that Mario Boni

was a revolutionary by day
and a murdering pig at night.

You know,
you're worse than the idiots

who read Il Giornale
as if it were the Gospel.

...the poor young man
they've pinned this on...

How is it that despite everything,
all your friendships

all your money,
the fact that you're my wife...

you're stuck in the mindset
of a civil servant's wife?

...the victims of warped ideals...

And not only are you a moron...

you're also making
a moron of my son.

...think they can solve problems
with dynamite.

Don't you get that the wife
of the editor-in-chief

of one of the most important
Italian newspapers

should be a tad more mentally evolved
than its average reader?

...Mario Boni's character.

But let's look at the data...

When will you begin
to understand the world?

Understand the difference between
what one thinks and says?

Violent and sexual crimes
were almost double the...

You are a moron,
moron, moron!

I feel alone in this house!

I find better conversation
with the walls than with you!

If you were Maria Grazia's father...

would that still be your answer?

Fine, it's true.

I wasn't at Vitaliano Fabrini's place
on March 28th.

I spent the whole afternoon
with Maria Grazia.

I didn't tell you
because I was afraid.

And also because
I don't trust your kind.

I waited for her with my 500
outside the school, as usual.

Her mother often picked her up

so she signalled me
whether she could come.

Naturally, we had to
do everything in secret.

If they knew we were going out,
her parents would call the police on me.

No to fascism!
No to communism!

A vote for Christian Democracy
is worth double.

In the face of disorder
and violence

the crossed shield is your defence.

Grazia!

Grazia!

Come on, Mario.
Don't start.

Why?

Because! We were supposed to talk,
don't you recall?

This place reeks!

Where have you taken me?

Excuse me if it's not the beach.
It's your beautiful Milan.

Why did you move here, then?

"The moral capital"...

Quit it!

So...
- So nothing. It's over.

You've had enough
of the working-class boy?

Have you satisfied your curiosity?

You use me and leave me,
is that it?

Mario, what's all this nonsense?

I was with you because
you were nice and I liked you.

But I no longer do.
It's not the end of the world.

They told me I shouldn't date
a stupid girl like you.

Well, let's drop it.
Take me home.

Listen, honey, start walking.
I'm done driving you around!

Phone home and ask them
to send you a chauffeur!

Go phone your parents!

Let me say, I consider
the charges against your client

not weakened,
but rather validated

and confirmed by his statement.

Sign here.

CONCLUSIVE PROOF
FROM MARIA GRAZIA'S DIARY

BONI'S ALIBI CRUMBLES

YOUNG EXTREMIST
KEEPS DENYING CHARGES

"...drank deep from the..."

I have some crucial news for you.
- Meaning?

Don't worry,
I'm giving it to you for free.

Mario Boni didn't kill anyone.
- What?

Your paper wrote a lot of nonsense.

Could you be clearer?

Maria Grazia wasn't a virgin.
Mind you, she was a lovely girl.

But she had sex with people,
that's all.

The doctors' statements
and autopsy reports say the opposite.

They said she was a virgin.

What virgin?
It's all stories!

What planet are you living on?

Martini is a doctor
and tenured college professor.

Either the autopsy doctors
did him a favour

or he paid them off.

Calvi here knows.
She did it with him.

Then she left him for Boni.

And this relationship
with Mario Boni?

They met
at a worker-student assembly.

Back then, all girls wanted
a working-class boyfriend.

She was very pretty.
Everyone liked her.

Of all the arseholes in this world,
it had to happen to her.

Even the janitor
fell in love with her.

The one who said he saw her
in the yellow 5007?

Yes. He courted her,
in his own way.

A shy, frustrated wanker.
Principal's snitch.

May I enter?

Excuse me?

Who is it?

Pardon me, I'm a reporter.

Look, I won't talk
to any more reporters.

I'm with Il Giornale.
- Please leave.

Calm down.

I'm not here to speculate
on Maria Grazia Martini's death.

I told you everything.
There's nothing else.

I just need to know one thing.

Did Maria Grazia have relations
with some of her schoolmates?

No.

No, Maria Grazia...

She wasn't capable of those things.

She was still a child.

She never got intimate with anyone.

I watched her.

All her schoolmates
flocked around her

because she was the prettiest
and the kindest.

Mario Boni claims he met her
at an assembly.

That's impossible,
she knew nothing of politics.

And she didn't care to know.

She didn't take part in strikes,
squatting, or assemblies...

Not like her classmates,
those criminals!

They've taken over the school!
All junkies.

Daddy's boys with nothing to fear.

I'd throw them all in jail.

So you're convinced
the murderer was Boni.

Of course it's him.

I can't understand
how he's still alive.

Plus, I trust Il Giornale.
I've been reading it for years.

I'm a faithful reader.

I read nothing else.

I'm sure you'll know
that Mario Boni confessed

he had a relationship
with Maria Grazia.

But...
- An intimate relationship.

But... Il Giornale
didn't mention that.

Y-you didn't say that!

That rotten bastard!

I guess he may have hit on her...

But she... she wasn't the type.

She was...
She was innocent. She was...

She was pure.

She was a saint,
an angel! She...

She was the Virgin Mary!

She was the Virgin!
The Holy Virgin!

A saint!
That's what she was to me!

The Virgin Mary!
She was a saint to me!

The Virgin Mary!
A saint!

The boys from school
were right, then.

You were in love with Maria Grazia.

They hate me because she loved me
instead of them!

They'd turn her into a whore!

This is what happens
when you no longer teach Latin!

Latin is important!

I only went to middle school,
but I can recite Mass!

Ego introibo ad altare Dei!

Et cum spiritu tuo!
Ora pro nobis!

And so forth!

I expect nothing less from you.

What you wrote
are just personal assumptions

which the police...
- The police?

...have already
considered and discarded.

The police followed the trail
you and Lauri gave them.

I demand that Il Giornale
considers my hypothesis...

You demand?

...and stops framing Boni
and his group!

Calm down and listen, Roveda.

Why don't you worry
about things that concern you?

Right, "to each his own task!"
"It's just a matter of guts!"

You're turning this profession
into something vile!

What profession is noble?
- I despise you!

You've said too much.
You're a complete moron!

You don't scare mel!

Go to the administrator
and get your dismissal papers.

I will report you!
- Yes, go ahead and do that.

I can't stand him anymore.
What an idiot!

We'll all end up in his first book.

Who are you?
How dare you come in here?

W-what do you want?

Who gives you the right?

I asked who you are. What...?
- Tell me everything.

Everything?
I've got nothing to hide!

You filthy swine!
- I know nothing! I did nothing!

You pig!
- I know nothing!

You swine!
- I did nothing!

I know nothing!

Say "I did it!" Say it!

Say it! Say it!
- Yes, I killed her!

Say it!
- Yes, I did it. It was me!

I killed her! I killed her!

That filthy whore!

She w-went with everyone
except me. She mocked me!

I followed her with my car.
Boni left her out of town.

Help!

Stay still!

Stay still!

Yes, I killed her!

Listen to me carefully.

We're the only ones
that know about this.

If you talk to someone,
I will hurt you.

But if you don't say a word...
I'll help you.

Is that clear?
- Yes, yes!

Is it?
- Yes!

Do you understand?
- I do!

Are we agreed?
- Yes! Yes! Yes!

Christian Democracy is proving
to be a great party.

It keeps gaining back
the ground it lost.

"Anti-fascist and anti-communist,"
this will be our winning card.

There's a risk of that formula
becoming stale.

No one still believes
that if the communists win

Cossack horses will drink
from St. Peter's fountains.

That total lack of imagination
scares me.

In his diaries, Goebbels wrote

that the masses are much more
primitive than we imagine.

Therefore, propaganda
should essentially be simple

and based on a pattern
of repetition.

A very modern method

used by the foremost American
advertising agencies.

"Unique Selling Proposition.”

Sell them one,
irreplaceable benefit.

You said you had some news.
What is it?

Yes...

Maria Grazia Martini's
real murderer turned up.

A maniac... a sick man.

He won't talk, not a peep.

It's up to us to decide
how to use him.

Let's wait until
the election's over.

We'll decide depending
on the outcome.

Should I inform the director?
- No, he shouldn't know about it.

Everyone must do their job
and take their share of responsibility.

And their share of the profits,
of course.

"Directors" are not always
the ones directing.

Everyone must know their place.

The police repress,
the judiciary punishes

and the press makes people think
the way we want them to.

After all,
everyone is doing their duty.

Only the workers won't play along.

They don't work enough.
They don't care.

Always asking for money.

We can't raise production.
That's the real issue.

Compared to all that,
what does it matter

whether some guy named Mario Boni
is guilty or innocent?

...we humbly implore you:
by the same Spirit

make holy these gifts
we have brought to you

that they may become
the Body and Blood

of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ

at whose command
we celebrate these mysteries.

Remember our sister Maria Grazia

whom you have called to yourself
from this mortal coil.

As you united her to yourself
with baptism

through the death
of Christ your Son

by the same token,
let her take part in His resurrection

on the day He raises the dead
out of the earth

and transforms our mortal bodies
in His own glorious image.

Now pray, my brothers,
for our sacrifice

to be welcomed
by our Father God Almighty.

Mass is ended, go in peace.

SLAP THE MONSTER
ON PAGE ONE

The events and characters
in this film are fictitious.

Any resemblance to reality
is purely coincidental.