Original subtitles

Many things had to happen

It was necessary that I suffered,

you suffered, so much

I existed because you existed

Now I am tranquil, clinging to my roots

I feel as though I exist no more

BEFORE THE REVOLUTION

Story and scenario

Leading players

Direction

Those who have not lived the years before the revolution...

...cannot realise the sweetness of life. Talleyrand

Parma on a Sunday in April, 1962, just before Easter

Then, Church, I had come to you

In my hand Pascal and "Songs of the Greek People"

With new dreams, the Resistance swept away...

...old dreams of regions united in Christ

Woe to those who do not know this Christian faith is bourgeois...

...signified by every privilege...

...every surrender, every subjugation

And sin is only the rejection of bourgeois values...

...retained through fear and sterility...

...and that the Church is the pitiless heart of the state

As in a dream, the gates of the town meet me...

...ramparts, customs houses, church towers like minarets...

...domes like stone hills, grey roofs, open terraces...

...and below are the streets, districts, squares...

...and the river dividing the two towns, the rich from the poor

Again the square, in the centre yet so near the fields...

...that sometimes it smells of hay

The square, with us inside, like a great, walled arena

Once more among historical images, remote images...

...the Church alone is their history...

...all vague desires of freedom stifled by Catholicism

My ilk, the bourgeois of Parma; they of the midday Mass

Have they been born to life?

Does the present resound in them as it does in me, insatiably?

Clelia

We've always been engaged, predestined for each other

But Clelia is the town...

...that part of the town I have rejected

Clelia is that sweetness of life I don't want to accept

Fabrizio!

I've found her. Here, with her mother

For this, a last hopeless act of love...

...I've gone from church to church, looking for Clelia

I wanted to see her for the last time

-What's the time? -Three

You must join the party

It's important; for politics... and for poetry, too

Then whatever you do or say has a meaning

If you make a mistake, that, too, has a meaning

I used to be in constant anguish, like a sort of guilt complex

Cesare helped me overcome this cowardice. I'd like to help you

Don't leave home only to go back

I must go to see Cesare now. See you tomorrow

Red River is on at Peace Cinema! Don't miss it!

People who run away from home make me laugh... the escapists

Why?

It's childish. It's too easy to behave as you do

You refuse, you complain, you run away

You run when they try to gag you. But there's another way

Which way?

I can't do more

Even running away is an achievement... and don't sneer

If you think your father's a thieving, opportunist hypocrite...

If your mother's stupid...

I've never said that

Maybe my father is a thief

My mother is too stupid to understand anything

But you should keep your mouth shut. Understand?

What right have you to judge?

And you, what do you do?

What do you think you're up to? A revolution?

This is for my father

This is for my mother

This is for me

-What's the matter? -Wine is so good

Come on, Iet's go to see Red River

You must go to see Cesare. Go on, he's expecting you

Bloody hell!

You look wonderful

So do you

I like your hair like that

Look who's here

Did you have a good journey from Milan?

He was doing his homework

Hello, Gina

I'm afraid I have to go out now

-To meet the comrades, I bet -Yes, that's right

See you tomorrow, eh?

Don't be late

It's no use. You'll have to wheel it to his home

-Who drowned? -Bertoli's son

Did you see what happened?

Didn't he speak to anyone?

Enore, over here!

-Who are you calling? -My elder brother

I've found a job

Down there. Loading the lorries

-You saw? -Yes, I saw everything

What happened?

I saw it all. It happened down there

He spoke to me from where you were standing

He asked me if the water was cold and I said it wasn't really

-Are you a relative? -No, a friend

He said he'd just eaten. I said that didn't matter

I think it's only dangerous to swim some time after eating

It seems that gentlemen are more delicate

He jumped out at first, because his feet were frozen

He swam out that way

Did he say anything then?

Only that it was his first swim this year

-What's your name? -William

-Enore, how old are you? -Seventeen

-Where do you live? -At the shacks

Agostino had fair, untidy hair

It looked more like a canary's feathers

He had fine features

Like a Norwegian, but his eyes gave him a crazy air

Like one of those hitch-hikers

I'm still here, you know

He was still at college; he changed colleges every year

His parents say all colleges are alike, provided they're in Switzerland

He was almost twenty. A living legend

People told all sorts of stories about him...

...and he believed the myth himself

I used to talk to him in Cesare's words

I hoped they were clearer than mine

And to think I wanted to teach Agostino...

...but I never understood him

He ran off time and again, but he rarely got as far as Milan

Then he'd return to borrow my books, which he said were all wrong

How he'd suffer if he saw all these people...

...who've come to view him dead, all these acquaintances in mourning

No, I don't want to

You mustn't behave like this

I'll stay with him

What are you doing?

Looking up the route back. You're pretty poor company

What do you do in Milan?

Nothing... I play at thought transmission...

I'm a wonderful shot... I play the triangle...

I have three baths a day...

I keep crying... I keep laughing...

We last met at a funeral, you know

We didn't speak. I left without greeting you

You helped me with my coat, remember?

I've been in Milan all these years, of course

I heard of you occasionally. You were small; I was growing up

I don't think I'll grow any more

Tall, grown-up people are never attractive

I don't even like myself. Not a scrap

And why don't you look at me, at least?

-Can you ride a bike? -Certainly; I even raced

Ever run away from home?

No need to. It's enough to stay at home when others go out

If the others... stay at home... then one must escape, of course

I was famous for such things; now everyone's got used to me

I'm sorry

Agostino had fair hair

It looked like a canary's feathers... Did you say that?

I'd like someone to talk of me as you did of him

But they never will... so I must do it myself

How long do condolences take?

What do they say? Commonplace things

Why don't you like yourself? Why don't you like adults?

Who said I didn't? I like them very much. Tall and fair

It's not true I can ride a bike. I fall off

Why don't you say something?

Don't look at me like that. What can I do?

I wanted to make you laugh

Don't brood over it

I know it so well

At my father's funeral, too...

Your grandfather

I'd often dreamed of his death, and dreamed I died, too

But I'd envisaged it differently...

...because reality... is much worse

One thinks about such things, prepares oneself...

One prepares... and then can't stand it

One can't take that kind of grief. You'd have understood

I didn't even bother to wear a black dress

I was so close to him

It's terrible to think how near to death the living are

Yet one can't share death with the dead

One can't enter the coffin with them

One's left more alive than ever. One feels like moving about...

...talking... gesticulating...

And I wanted to console you

It's always a mistake to return; things are never the same

Neither the people nor the places

How long...

How long the afternoons are in Parma. Tonight I'll return to Milan

I'm all alone. Luckily Cesare is here

I feel like a pigeon in the square, by Garibaldi’s monument

Cesare's my Garibaldi, on his own pedestal

I'll be all alone if you go; but you won't

Aunts should be respected, unfettered

It's difficult to make oneself clear. You must stay for me, and for yourself

I'll stay to learn Italian. Then I'll leave

For ever

But now pretend you need me

It's a lie... but I'll do it

-Aren't you coming? -You go, I'll wait for the sun

-But I told Cesare... -Be quick, don't keep me waiting

I'll just say hello to him

I saw you

-It's no good hiding -I'm locked in

Come down, or I'll tell your parents

You can't. Everyone's gone away

I know you're there

What are you doing? Why don't you answer?

Where did your boyfriend go?

Comb your hair. You look like a witch

Your hair is so lovely

This is lovers' lane. I know a good place, there are lots of trees

Shall I show you?

Will you teach me that song? How does it go?

Fabrizio

What's your name?

Enough!

Stop it!

Gina, talk to me!

I'm sorry

I don't know what happened... I'm not feeling well...

First of all, forgive me

And please don't ask questions

I'm too sensitive. I'd feel as if I were in prison

I don't know if you're just curious, or whether it's something more

But realise that you realise. Your face quickly clouds over...

...and as quickly brightens

The only remedy for my pain is other people

People... You

And the cure for boredom I seek

Serried ranks of villas...

...pursue each other

Clouds pursue clouds. You pursue me pursuing you

My nephew of Parma

Without saying anything, I've told you all

Don't ask questions... Don't ask questions...

My necklace

Does it mean bad luck?

I'll buy another like it tomorrow

You even wanted to watch me dress

WhiIe I put on my stockings and my panties...

Extraordinary, eh?

Tell the truth. Were you disappointed?

Be serious. Can't one love all sorts of things?

Even a woman's way of dressing?

Your mother is taller, different...

Forget it

...but made like me

Damn all this rain

It's your fault, too. You're a man now...

...and we're equals

A rainy Easter. How boring

Usually, when it rains like this I can't sleep

Why did you put your hands over my mouth?

Did my cries upset you?

-I didn't want them to hear -Who could hear?

People are there. If we're quiet, we'll hear the women getting up

-Which women? -The maids, grandmother

Are you mad?

Where are we?

Back of the house. Once it used to be a print shop

I used to play here, alone

I'm glad it happened here. Are you sorry? Shall we go back?

Come and see

Bodoni. That name always used to amuse me

I imagined he was a fat man, like Oliver Hardy

On Easter morning the bells pealed over the city

They were in a deep sleep

They slept on... a scandal...

...for the rest of the household was ready for Mass

"Salan confesses: everything collapsed about us"

"General Salan was taken to prison in handcuffs"

Where's my wife? Where's your mother?

Probably gone to lie down

The stew was better than at Christmas; it was cooked longer

One always eats too much in Parma. First one eats, then talks about it

Double work, like eating twice

Many people don't leave the table between lunch and dinner

Twelve hours eating. A gastronomic marathon

Here's something to please the farmers: more rain

There's never enough rain, is there, mother?

I'm going to bed. Wake me at four

Now you dance with me

But I can't

It's a camera obscura, all done with mirrors

It's magic, but true. Still, it's magic

You're happy, but it won't last. Fabrizio, I know it won't last

It's useless. You'll remember me as if I were dead

Then after a time you'll forget me completely

Finally, you'll hate me

It's not my fault. I promised nothing, and you mustn't sulk at me

I'm fond of you

I love you, even if I don't say so

You are a thousand, ten thousand times better than me

I'm nothing... I'm worth nothing

How nice to steal this trick and speak to you when you're not with me

Where are you?

Did you like the film? Not bad, eh?

Passable cinéma vérité in colour

On Sundays they used to spy on the girls going to Mass

Then there were the fairs, the acrobats, the performing bears...

I wouldn’t exchange this moment for any other

Even if it is passing, I'll forgive it, I don't mind

I'm not like you at all

I've no courage, I'm a coward. You can't guess what I'm really like

I'd like nothing to move, everything still

Like a picture. And us in the picture, motionless

No more May, June, July, August, September...

September... where will we be in the autumn?

-I won't go in -You must meet Cesare this time

This is a surprise, I didn't expect you

Gina, this is Cesare

Yes, I'm his aunt from Milan

-The smoke, huh? -Yes, the smoke!

Franklin stoves are all like that

Can we come in?

Of course, come into the kitchen

No, better not, it's in a terrible mess

I know the girl who lives opposite

In the tower? I know Evelina, too. A peasant family, very poor

Anything to drink?

There's some nice white wine. Or would you prefer Kümmel?

No, I get drunk easily

Have the wine

It's a light Confirmation wine. You'll like it

When I'm here, Gina...

...I'm in my real element

You're the first person I've ever brought here. A privilege

It doesn't work, it's broken

Mind what you're doing. It's not like yours

What's that?

Some act only when motivated by passion. He has a calling to teach

But he knows that only children can be taught

Our teacher explained to us...

...that the word freedom means justice and democracy

On 25th April last year, Fascism ended and peace began

The one duty we owe to history is to rewrite it

When we have fully discovered the scientific laws that govern life...

...we'll realise that the one who has more illusions than the dreamer...

...is the man of action

But men are the slaves of words

They rage against Materialism...

...forgetting that there has been no material improvement...

...that has not spiritualised the world...

...and that there have been few, if any, spiritual awakenings...

...that have not wasted the world's faculties in barren hopes

He explained that the partisans died for democracy

Democracy needs daily attention, like the land

Teacher comes from the town, but makes us write about the country

"Essays" and "Problems" - both misspelt

He was a nice kid. Intelligent. Understood more than the others

I'm naive, you know

For seventeen years I've set that essay on 25th April

Italians have never been sensitive to that sort of thing

I mean, they understand, but they forget quickly. Too quickly

You were young in 1945. Were you teaching then?

It was my first year

What a year, 1945. How disordered I was

You're very good at ordering other people’s minds

Ordering

-I don't know what I'd do with your order -You conform

Life is not orderly... fortunately

We can't conform to the world as it is

-We want to change it -To change it?

You can't change people. Not even one

I know from myself, because I'll never change

You're apart from history

That's how history moves

History is time, isn't it?

Nun, wife, widow, spinster, nun...

I know time doesn't exist

All very beautiful, but not new. You read Proust...

I know a story older than Proust

Once upon a time there was an old sage, like you...

...who had a young disciple, like him...

...and they were travelling across the country

One day the old sage said to the young man:

"I'm thirsty, please get me some water"

The young man agreed

Along the road he stopped at a fountain...

...and beyond the fountain he saw a wonderful, marvellous country

He was fascinated

There he met an extraordinary, moody girl - yes, like you

They married, raised a family

Not fair; you know the story

After twenty years, they died of a terrible plague

Only he survived, an ageing man

Desperate, he set off on the road again

Finally, he came to the place where he left the sage

Whom did he see sitting there?

The sage, still waiting. And what did he say?

"How long does it take you to fetch water for me?

"I've waited all afternoon"

You see, time doesn't exist. Understand?

A lifetime for the disciple...

...but the sage was still waiting for the water

Despite wisdom, people have always starved

Now you're talking like a book again

I thought you two always agreed

Certainly. We discuss because we agree

I'd be bored

I've decided that there's only one sort of person to talk to:

someone who shares one's ideas

I'm a chameleon. Other people’s ideas change my colour

What does that mean?

Probably that you're so sure of yourself...

...that you can receive everything and lose nothing

You're right, I do talk like a book

I have to speak like a book to sound convincing

But don't forget I speak like the books you give me

Remember Ripeness is all, by Pavese?

I'm told someone came looking for me a few days ago

About 10 or 10.30 in the morning. I was at school

A fair-haired lad with a bike. They didn't tell me his name

A green bike?

I don't know; I could ask

Agostino was looking for you

He came looking for me?

I promised to bring him

He was ready to meet you, he always asked about you

He was interested in our talks

He thought he hated everyone; he hated only himself

It's as though he killed himself

You know it was an accident. You mustn't talk like that

He lived alone and he died alone

The cruellest thing is to disbelieve someone's sorrow

Yes, it's me, Gina

I swear I'm not in Milan, I'm phoning from Parma

I got your letter. Yes, the weather's nice. We're all fine

Enough small talk!

Take a look out of the window

It's almost light. It's four in the morning

I'm here in a room that's not mine... who do you expect?

No. I am well

You know I can't stay in too small a room

And this room... I don't know it

It's so empty... it frightens me

Nothing but four white walls

In my house, by the bed, remember, there's a lamp on all night

Here there's only an enormous lamp in the ceiling

It's your fault, you made me go. You sent me here

It's not true I can't live alone. You were cheating me, doctor

I could come to you every day

Maybe you didn't want to see me any more

But here nobody knows me!

I was in bed by midnight, but instead of sleeping...

...I lay listening to all the clocks in the town

One, two, three... I'm always here, awake

And boys talk under the window and they never sleep

But who could hear me in this room? This house is so big

I'm sorry, have I woken your wife?

It's almost day now

I think I'll never sleep in this house

Listen. Can you hear that?

A cart passing by

Yes, I'm looking at myself. In a mirror

I look a mess

I don't feel like combing my hair. If you saw my face...

A bath now?

I don't feel like one. You say that to get rid of me

All right, then

Don't get angry, will you?

Do you think I can go back to Milan?

I'm opening the door. Don't hang up

Can I go back to Milan?

About time, too

I've been looking all over Parma for you

Meet... Carlo, isn't it?

I've been to all the carés, everywhere

In twenty years, Anna Karina will be what Louise Brooks is to us now

She'll represent a whole era; that's the miracle of cinema for me

What is so typical of 1946 as Bogart and Bacall in Hawks' The Big Sleep?

Am I boring you with all this?

Sorry, I was miles away

I thought your mind wasn't on the film

I don't even know what film it was. I just drifted into the cinema

I was there at six. I saw the programme twice

I can't bear some films

I've seen Journey to ltaly 15 times. How can one live without Rossellini?

You're an addict. Is this an inquisition?

You say Resnais and Godard are escapist

But Une femme est une femme is more engagé than De Santis and Lizzani

You're mad. Are you trying to pull my leg?

Style. Moral fact

-What's up? -I'm in love

Then it's a problem of content, not a problem of style

It's never happened to me before. I didn't know what it meant

-Tell me -I don't understand anything any more

You thought love a superstructure? A woman's a woman

There are things in life one doesn't understand immediately

But they're important, they change a person

A tracking shot is style, but style is a moral fact

I remember a 360 degree pan in a Nicholas Ray film

One of the most engagé and thus most moral moments in film history

Reactionary. Maybe I should laugh, but I can't

I'm a bore who makes lists of films. You need to be left alone

Maybe you're right. I'll go

Take my scarf, it's cold outside

I live just over the road

Remember, Fabrizio, one can't live without Rossellini

Why are you here?

Who are you waiting for?

Why are you still awake?

Do you think you're Maciste, or Tarzan?

I wanted to come to your room...

...to box your ears and slap your face

Me or another man, it's all the same to you

Do what you like. You're unfettered

I just want you to know it's all over

I must talk to you. Come to my room

Why didn't you hit me this afternoon?

I wonder what that fellow made of your nasty look

He wanted my phone number

I promised to go to a football match with him on Sunday

Then I didn't feel like giving him my name and number, so he felt cheated

He got angry. You should have heard him

Because I wouldn’t tell him my phone number

He almost hit me because of a phone number

What are you thinking?

He was very respectable. He was nice, he said nice things to me

Don't you believe me?

It's true. Do you think I'm a liar?

Why did I go with him today? Because I needed to talk to someone

Even I don't know what I say

I'm an idiot, talking of non-things

The truth is... he treated me like men treat whores

He was a moralist

If he wanted to punish me, he was right

Because I deserve it, every day

I feel every fire is my fault

If a war breaks out, I think it's my fault

Even if there's a storm

If I meet the police I say: "I'm innocent"

He wasn't anyone special; one never meets special men

And I hate men. Hate them

With their women... their children... their families...

I like you because you're not a man yet

"This letter is to say I've loved you for a long time

"If you like me, tell me, for I think you do

"If we were on holiday and a storm broke and everything was spoiled...

"...the thought of it makes my blood run cold. Yours truly..."

As a boy I used to put spells on frogs

There's even a derogatory expression: "Spellbinding frogs"

Friendly mosquitoes...

Maybe they recognise me. These mosquitoes are strange

They don't bother me

My dear, great friend. My Puck

When I was a child I didn't love you as I do now

You spoiled me; now it's I who love you

And you... I don't know any more

Young liar. You know I always loved you

Let's put it to the test. Look me in the eye

You always guessed my secrets

If you don't trust your old friend, isn't that friendship dead?

I have a secret, a big secret

But if you guess it, we'll no longer be friends

Just look at my secrets

The lake, Padova the painter, the only person with whom I can talk

And there, hidden yet tangible, the River Po

So many people in one day. I'm not used to it

Listen... I forgot to tell you, I'm being shadowed

Fabrizio, my nephew

What are you doing here? Changed your taste today?

Some frogs are enormous, aren't they? But these are small, aren't they?

I'm interested in big ones, aren't I?

I longed to see you

You haven't changed. You seek me out when you're in love, in the wrong way

You're the same, too. You understood at once

Everything is so wrong. I can only run away

I didn't know you had such a big nephew. From Parma, eh?

That's obvious from the shoes

One could always find EngIish shoes in Parma, even during the war

We used to cross the Po to buy them

Then we believed it very important to be anglophile

What name?

This is good land, isn't it?

It's good, but it's all mortgaged

By 5th of May, I must find the money to repay the bank

Will you lose Stagno Lombardo?

I wonder who'll own Stagno Lombardo next year

Since my father died, five years ago, things have become worse

He'd never have died if he'd imagined such disaster

Can you imagine me without private means?

What shall I do?

Work? I've never worked, even for a joke

Land never Iets you down, they said; so I didn't take a degree

I'm ignorant and fit for nothing

I'd be ashamed to go and steal a salary

Whatever work I tried would be like stealing, cadging a meal

You've eaten well up to now. False sincerity makes me laugh

It's easy to examine one's conscience when one's broke

Why didn't you do it when you had those private means?

Fabrizio, don't be rude

You are right, Fabrizio. I'm your social equal now

I'm wrong to bore you with such a trifle

It's not a trifle

The fact is, there are too many trifles like yours

You don't know the power of habit, Fabrizio

One inherits attitudes; that's why I'm ashamed

Yes, habit justifies everything

Fascism, Franco, socialism... we get used to it all

And you say: "I'm unashamed"

You're stupid. Presumptuous

You talk so smugly, but you don't understand anything

You've got no right to talk

The river is finished

We must forget it

They tell us to say goodbye to it

They'll come with machines

They'll come with dredgers

There'll be different men, the sound of engines

Who will protect the poplars from frost?

Nothing will remain

Summer will go

Winter will disappear

It's over for you, too. Drift away from here

Sink that boat of yours. I'm speaking for you, too

We'll no more fish pike together...

...we won't even fish carp

No more ducks...

...no more geese will fall to our guns

The moorhens are finished

Farewell to all the wild birds

You see, my friends...

Here life ends and survival begins

Goodbye, Stagno Lombardo

Goodbye gun, goodbye river...

...goodbye Puck

What a beautiful light

It includes us all

Then I realised that Puck spoke for me, too

In him I saw myself, years later...

...and I felt there was no way out for us children of the bourgeoisie

Thanks for coming

-A taxi? -Let's walk, if you don't mind

At the end of summer every year in Ducal Park

It's all wrong, even this sort of entertainment

-What do you want, then? -Can't you guess?

I thought we spoke the same language

Some stars will make personal appearances, people enjoy that

That's what's all wrong

I've done party work on my holidays. This place is going to pot

Did you read about Marilyn?

Why did she do it? You've read the paper, haven't you?

She took sleeping pills

It's a publicity stunt

Her photo's in the paper. Wasn't she beautiful?

I still don't believe it

It was on the radio, too

People accept anything. It scares me

But it's we who give

They accept blindly. What if we're wrong?

Then we'd always have been wrong

In fact you were, and I'm not talking of small mistakes

In twenty years people still haven't gained a spark of conscience

We've plenty of evidence of a strong popular conscience

You know what I mean. The events of July 1960 aren't enough

One-day revolutions won't do

What about the strikes and union victories?

Strikes don't satisfy me. Neither do May Days with red flags

They sufficed in 1948, but who strikes for Angola’s freedom today?

Did anyone go to fight in Algeria?

Who protests in the square when a negro's killed in Alabama?

But protest in the square won't do now; I want a new sort of man

Wise enough to educate his parents. You know

The proletariat has ideals, don't forget

It has one irrational ideal

It's not its fault you allowed it to dream of bourgeois dignity

It wants to mix with the bourgeoisie...

...dress like it, see its shows, read its books

Workers want to improve their economic status. Why not?

Enore, where did you put that poster?

I put it back there. Near Castro

What did the party do for Agostino?

What did you do for Agostino?

His death woke you from your sleep

Why expect the party to do what you didn't?

For that reason

Now you're out, you think you're more in

I know your sort, but you've got a special problem

If you had the guts to talk about Gina...

Once you lent me a book with a phrase underlined

Men make their history in a milieu which conditions them

You interpreted it as men acting in an existing milieu

But history is made by men, not the milieu they inhabit

I am the failure of that phrase. One must open one's eyes

You wanted to change me; I hoped you would

But I'm a stone, I'll never change

I wanted to fill Gina with vitality. I filled her with anguish

She told me, slightly ashamed, she had "nervous fever"

I have a different fever, a nostalgia for the present

Each moment seems remote, even as I live it

I don't want to change the present

I accept it, but my bourgeois future is my bourgeois past

For me, ideology was something of a holiday

I thought I was living the revolution

Instead, I lived the years before the revolution

Because for my sort it's always before the revolution

The Communists disdain to conceal their views and aims

They openly declare that their ends can be attained...

...only by the forcible overthrow...

...of all existing social conditions

...the forcible overthrow of all existing social conditions

Let the ruling classes tremble at a Communist revolution

The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains

They have a world to win. Workers of the world, unite!

Opening of the season at Teatro Regio, 26 December, 1962

-Will you come to the wedding? -Why not?

What do you think of Clelia's mother's idea of an early marriage?

They seem so young to me

What's Fabrizio's opinion?

He accepts everything now. He's changed a Iot

He ought to take his degree first

He'll take it

Where is he?

The sixth box of the second row; their family box

She's beautiful

But where is Fabrizio? I can't see him at all

He's hiding behind her

I'm so pleased about it

-I was waiting for you -I was looking for you

She's like a portrait by Parmigianino

The ideal woman for you. Everyone will be envious

I know you don't really like her

Maybe she doesn't understand as many things as you do...

...but she is so good, so simpIe

Not much, but just what I want at the moment

It's almost over

We'd better go

Macbeth is really beautiful. I heard it last year at La Scala...

...but here it seems better because the people believe it

Ten years ago I'd have scorned going to an opera

AIways Verdi. Our beloved Verdi

All that we are not. Enough Verdi! I'd prefer Mozart

Well... you've arrived, haven't you?

Listen, it's better like this, for you and for me

What else could happen?

You understood me better than anyone else

That's why you went, wasn't it? It was right

You decided for me, too

I know how I made you suffer

Don't think I didn't know

It's so cold here

Gina, could you still fall in love with me?

"Captain Ahab, I have heard of Moby Dick...

...but was it not Moby Dick that took off thy leg"

"Who told thee that?" cried Ahab

"Aye, Starbuck...

"...I'll chase him round Good Hope...

"...and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom...

"...and round perdition's flames before I give him up

"And this is what you have shipped for, men!

"to chase that white whale on both sides of land...

"...and over all sides of earth...

"...till he spouts black blood...

"...and rolls fin out"