Original subtitles

THE LITTLE WORLD OF DON CAMILLO

Here is the village. Here is our little world.

Somewhere in the north of Italy, between a river and a mountain.

Winter is the kingdom of water, summer the empire of the sun.

It beats down upon us and riles us,

yet its rays make the worst conflict seem light

and even funny.

We quarrel, we fight, but we remain men.

And things happen here that happen nowhere else.

It's the spring of 1946.

A few days ago, the village elected its town council.

Reds against Blacks.

The Reds - the communists - won.

Jesus, do you see what has happened? They've triumphed!

They'll come here, too, and trample upon your image.

Last Sunday I told them what I thought.

Then at night someone jump me from behind

and beat me with his stick.

And you let him? Good, Camillo. Blessed are the peaceful!

I was carrying eggs and tried to protect them.

It was night and I couldn't see,

but if I ever find out...

We must forgive those who harm us.

And besides, a little thrashing hardly hurt.

Perhaps you'll learn

to leave politics alone.

Still, with due respect,

I would never have let Peppone be mayor.

Not one of his councillors knows how to read or write.

A bunch of illiterates running the town!

You well know they had no time to study.

- They've toiled since childhood. - And who's to blame?

What counts is in the heart and head.

Give these good people a chance, before judging.

I can't talk to you!

Listen to them! It was me who filed them with music!

Long live Peppone!

This is Spiletti, the only opposition member.

This is Mrs. Cristina, the old teacher.

She's 85 and lives off her memories.

What they see from this window is the end of the world.

Is she waiting to go home?

No, she's not afraid. She knows them all.

At one time or another, long ago,

she's pulled all their ears.

Hello, hello!

It's not loud enough.

We must be able to hear.

Hello! Hello!

Victory is at hand!

Do you hear that, Lord?

They have a loud speaker on purpose.

It's disturbing our peace!

There's nothing to do, Camillo. That's progress!

Hello, Mrs. Cristina!

- Who are you? - It's Gina. Gina Filotti.

Don't you remember me?

Gina!

Goodness me!

Now I'm the one who has to look up at you!

- How small I seem. - You're exactly the same.

Did you work hard at teacher's college?

Yes.

What a bad day to return!

Have you seen?

Comrades!

Before speaking to our comrade who has come from the city...

to celebrate the triumph of the people and democracy...

I want to announce some good news.

In a few days, we will begin

to build a People's Hall!

With a library,

a party room, a movie theatre...

a recreation room and much else!

It will be... a home to all!

A "People's Hall"! And the money to build it?

And now, I present...

my fellow comrade.

Comrades,

I want to congratulate you

and our comrade Giuseppe Bottazzi,

our dear friend Peppone...

for the triumph over the enemies of the people!

Stay here! That isn't your business.

Only here can you do as you wish.

- Only here I can? - Naturally! It's your house.

But we must follow the law!

And we will.

Even if we'll have to execute

all the enemies of the people!

- Who's that? - It's Don Camillo.

- We must silence him! - That's easy.

We can fire on the steeple.

He's at it again. Let's shoot the bell!

Yes, but be sure to get it on the first shot,

otherwise he'll shoot as well and things will get ugly.

Why is he stopping? Now he'll let him speak.

He's on their side! I've always said he was a Bolshevik!

Tell me, Mrs. Cristina,

isn't the one with the flag Mariolino?

The flag? Yes, that's him!

The reddest of Reds! And look! His father, too!

A pretty family of killers!

Comrades! Have you heard?

We will not tolerate similar attacks

on our right of assembly and free speech.

Those who lurk in the belfry and deceive the people,

those who have betrayed their children...

These bandits will attack the church!

I won't put up with that!

Oh, Gina? Is that you?

Goodness me! Look at you! You're a woman!

And what did you expect? A goat?

You looked like one before.

Shall we see each other tonight?

Run, you brute! Go join your gang of assassins!

And go join your priest in his sweet oasis!

Comrades!

One more comrade!

He's handsome! He looks like you!

Look at Don Camillo,

how happy he is at his old enemy's new found joy.

Both want the town to be happy.

But they can't agree on how.

Their dispute goes back years.

Together through the war, but always facing off,

they never lose a chance to exchange insults.

One night,

an old abandoned shack went up in flames.

All the village ran to watch it burn

though there was nothing of interest.

I'm curious why these stones are burning.

Get back!

- Stop! - Mind your own business.

It's foolish to put yourself in danger.

Danger? They're only stones!

- There could be something else. - Like what?

- Is there something else? - What do I know? I've no idea.

The revolutionary doesn't want his gang

to see a reactionary priest act more bravely.

- Stop! - No way!

Go water your flowers, coward!

I should have let you go

and seen the blackest reactionary explode.

- Oh, I would have stopped in time. - Why?

Because I knew that inside

there were six cans of petrol, 95 guns,

300 grenades, 2 chests of ammunition,

7 machine guns and 300 kilograms of explosives.

Surprised, are you?

I counted your stash myself. After I set it on fire.

I should knock you out.

Knock me out? That's not so easy.

You've actually helped me.

The stuff was weighing on my conscience.

But you said there were 7 machine guns

when there were in fact 8. Where's the last one?

I have it!

When the proletariat revolution breaks out,

keep far from the church!

I'll see you in hell!

This has been going on for years.

If Don Camillo couldn't forget the ambush with the stick,

Peppone hadn't forgotten

how Don Camillo's bells greeted his election.

And one fine morning, as Matuggia, the sacristan...

- But, what... what is it? - I think...

- What is it? - Yesterday, I saw...

Who?

- Who? - The... the...

- Peppone! - Oh, the mayor.

So that's how he's taking care of things.

I ask him to fix the steeple and he destroys it!

- Why didn't you tell me? - When I saw him leave...

I thought he'd been to confession.

- To confession? - Yes.

I'll give him absolution myself!

- Camillo, put that down. - What?

Put it down. That's wicked!

It's not oak, it's poplar. Very light and supple.

Throw that out and forget about Peppone!

How can I forget Peppone, Lord, if you send me his wife?

- What is it? - It's for a baptism, Father.

- Whose baby is it? - Mine!

- With your husband? - But of course!

Who else would it be with? You?

Oh, calm down! I thought your party was all for free love!

What are you calling him?

Lenin Liberio Antonio.

Then let the Cossacks baptise him!

Let's go.

This time I didn't let them down!

That was shameful! You must baptise her son.

Please, Jesus. Baptism isn't a joke!

- Baptism is... - I know, I invented it.

If he dies and doesn't go to heaven, it'll be your fault.

Why would he die? He's as strong as an ox!

I'm always wrong. I'll try to arrange things.

I'll leave here when my son has the name I have chosen for him.

City hall is down the street. This is the church.

I have a weak stomach

since I was shot when we were on the front.

- So no low blows. - I'll remember it.

Very well.

- Hey! What time is it? - No idea.

- How do you feel? - All right.

You won.

That was for the baptism, this for the firecrackers.

- Firecrackers? - Playing innocent, are you?

All you're good for! Wreaking and burning!

And you talk of building for "the people".

Shut up, you Bolshevik!

He's smarter than his father!

Tell me, how will you afford this People's Hall?

Oh, we'll find the money.

You won't raise enough money to buy a dozen tiles!

I've wanted to build a park for ten years!

But promises cost you nothing, do they?

So, shall we baptise this darling?

What are we calling him?

Liberio Antonio Camillo.

Camillo?

Yes.

Then you can add Lenin.

Camillo will cancel out Lenin!

Please hold up the child.

The godfather is Ciro from the Bruciata estate.

The grandfather of Mariolino.

Bruciata is as barren as a desert.

If you bombed it, there'd be a sand storm.

But old Ciro and his son Brusco still plant wheat.

On the other side of the wall live Gina's parents.

There the earth bursts with life.

Poverty, wealth, the sun...

and politics. That's all it takes to hate.

So they build a wall to avoid misfortune.

Are you crazy? In daylight? If my father sees, he'll kill me!

Why didn't you come the other night?

You said you didn't want me.

That was nothing. I was angry!

How handsome you are!

You have a beard now.

Did you run here? You're as warm as a breeze.

No, I didn't run.

These two are Romeo and Juliet.

Torn apart by their families.

The wall wasn't yet built

and even the smallest slight inflamed.

The discord of the mothers spread to the fathers,

then to the farm hands

and finally to the grandfathers, the bitterest of all.

- Peppone is nothing but a thug! - The priest is worse than a Muslim.

Muslim! Look who's talking!

Oh, my grandfather! He'll have me by the hair!

- See you tonight! - See you then!

Gina!

- What were you doing? - Seeing if the apples are ripe.

The apples won't help you pass your exam. Get to work!

This old fool let his pigeons out again!

Killer!

Go ahead,

tell the pigeons to stop flying!

- They're stealing my sun! - The sun?

The sun is not made for savages like you!

When it sees you, it eclipses.

Keep shooting and I'll burn your house down!

I'll shoot anything that comes from your house!

Here, cook this along with the stones from your barren land!

Keep your victim, killer!

Eat it and I hope it poisons you!

Villain, crook, lout, bandit!

Just you wait!

The pigeon didn't go to waste.

Gina took it to Mrs. Cristina who cooked it.

Mrs. Cristina taught for 50 years at the village school.

Upon retirement, the village bought her an alarm clock.

She now listens to it

waiting for a government pension.

- Who's there? - It's Scartazzini.

- And who are they? - They're with me. Friends.

We have to talk to you.

Come in.

- So? - So...

You know that the Reds won the election.

I know! The villains!

The Reds, that's us.

Then you're villains.

Anyway, we know what we want. No beating around the bush.

But we need to write the government, make reports, answer letters.

You're the only one who can help us. We'll pay, of course.

You'll pay me!

Yes, of course.

We need you to do a little revision.

To review our reports and correct them.

You ask for help now! You have no shame!

Instead of studying at school!

That wasn't our fault, you know...

that we had to work in the fields.

And that wasn't fun.

Who are you?

- Ah, Brusco from Bruciata. - Yes.

Satan's henchman!

But you're right, it wasn't your fault.

Sit down!

Are wee Giuseppe's teeth all in yet?

Yes, Mrs. Cristina. He's about to get married.

And your sister-in-law, Bertrand? Is she still so bad?

Even worse in old age, Mrs. Cristina!

You! Out!

I put up with you enough!

- Me? - Yes, you!

Please, Mrs. Cristina. You can't.

I can so. A trouble-maker who comes to class with frogs in his pockets!

And once, riding on a cow!

But, Mrs. Cristina, he's the mayor.

Mayor or not, get out...

or I'll whack your head with a ruler!

I told you. I was too much.

And don't ever come back, even as the Minister of Education!

Good night, Mrs. Cristina.

Peppone is an ass.

Peppone gave me this to do. He wants 15 posters.

Listen to this gibberish.

"Final warning to the person who last night

wrote vile insults on our announcement board.

If this lout does not stop now,

it will be too late for remorse.

Patience has its limits.

Signed the Mayor

Giuseppe Bottazzi, known as Peppone."

A provocation! What provocation?

Do you know what this is about?

Don't you know? Each time he posts a notice,

it's full of errors

and someone writes on it: "Peppone is an ass".

Peppone is an ass! It's true!

And when an ass puts up a notice,

everyone sees he's an ass.

Everyone is gonna laugh at him!

I have to go and print these. He wants them for tomorrow morning.

- Good night, Father. - Good night.

- Peppone is an ass! - And you? What are you?

What am I? What do you mean?

Last night,

as you went to the tobacco store to buy your cigar,

didn't you stop to read the announcement board?

To read? Not exactly. I just gave it a glance.

And you saw nothing unusual on the notice?

Absolutely not. Not when I stopped.

Oh, please excuse me! I think they need me at the presbytery!

Don Camillo, stay.

When you stopped, there was nothing. But when you left...

When I think about it, when I left...

there were some red pen marks

low down, on the right.

I have to go.

Have you no shame!

To mock an uneducated man

when you know just a bit of Latin!

The whole village mocks him now.

Listen to what you have started.

Peppone is an ass!

Jesus, I didn't mean for this. What should I do?

- He who sins must repent. - Virgin Mother, come to my aid!

This is a matter that concerns my son. My hands are tied.

- But you're his mother! - Alright. I'll try.

You've misunderstood me, Jesus.

You see this half-cigar? I can't afford to buy another this week.

So, look what I'll do.

Very well, you have repented.

But get rid of bits you'd be all too happy to smoke in your pipe.

- Good evening, Father. - Good evening, Mayor.

I'm also a Christian and I'm here to confess.

God be with you, my son.

You need my blessing worse than an assassin does.

How long has it been?

Oh, since 1918...

1918!

Think of all the sins you've committed.

With all your crazy ideas!

Alas!

Come, my son.

But Peppone had few sins to confess.

His last sin was the hardest to confess.

Two months ago, when you were carrying the eggs,

I beat you with a stick.

- So it was you. - Yes!

And the stick was fresh oak.

10 Paternosters and 10 Hail Mary.

- Jesus, I'll kill him! - Out of the question.

I pardoned, and you must.

I'd like to smash this candle over his back.

A lie is no great thing!

Your hands are made for blessing, not hitting.

My hands may be for blessing,

but my feet...

We're square now.

We won't speak of it again. But I haven't confessed everything.

What? I've given you absolution!

Well, these aren't really sins. They're more like little faults.

Don't you help correct those, too?

- It's my duty. - Fine, then.

- Citizens! - Shush!

Citizens, as we salute

our glorious list, we must...

- Jesus, I can't help myself! - That's my concern.

But I'm helping the revolution!

You're helping spelling and syntax, which aren't political.

Fine. Bring your "literature" here.

Here you are.

There's one thing I don't understand.

Where I wrote "We plan on largening schools",

you put "We plan on largening schools

and repairing the church steeple."

- Why? - It's a question of grammar.

Lucky steeple that you're so smart!

Too bad we won't see it fall on your head!

One must accept the wish of God! Here's to you!

Here's to you!

You know, that good-for-nothing

who scribbled on your notices, I think I know who it is.

- I'll make sure he stops. - Just as well for him!

Because I've kept that stick made of fresh oak.

- Good night, Father. - Good night, Mayor.

- And your People's Hall? - It's coming along.

So, my Lord, they can even afford the first tiles!

Where'd you get that cigar?

Peppone had two in his pocket and I lightened his load.

Old partisans share all they have.

So Don Camillo will realise his dream

of a park with a sports field, swings,

maybe a little swimming pool.

Comrade Mayor invites the priest

to a social ceremony

which will take place at ten o'clock at Liberty Square.

What ceremony is it?

I'm not sure.

I won't go.

Go tell the mayor that I refuse to listen to another sermon

on the evils of capitalism. I know them by heart!

They'll be no politics. Just patriotism and social action.

If you don't come, it's you who rejects democracy.

Fine. Alright, I'll come.

The boss wants you to come in uniform and with your tools.

- My tools? - Yes, the sword and the crucifix!

A social ceremony...

Comrades!

Dear citizens!

I am pleased to lay the first stone of the People's Hall

which will soon stand in the heart of our town

as the symbol of our activeness and of social progress!

Our beloved priest will now say a few words.

My dear friends, I wish I had the words to express clearly

the happiness I feel,

the joy that I feel in being asked by the mayor

to be here today.

Thank you!

Don Camillo couldn't sleep.

How did Peppone find the money?

One night he thought he figured it out,

and the next day...

Do these feet have the honour of belonging to the mayor?

Would you mind leaving people who are working alone?

I just wanted to wish you well.

Yesterday, at the official ceremony in front of everyone, I couldn't.

- I couldn't say all I wanted. - I could have guessed the rest.

Not all, not all!

You'll have to go over the costs.

It's too expensive. There's something else that's more urgent.

- What is it? Are you sick? - No, I'm fine.

Remember during the war when we were in the Castellina woods

and we attacked that unit that fled?

And that container we found...

that contained war booty?

And the next day, when we sent Brusco...

and Smilzo to take the container to the proper authorities...

Poor fellows! Remember what happened...

to them?

Attacked by three men with machine guns

who took it back!

- What are you implying? - Why, nothing!

Only last night I dreamed there was no attack

and we never lost that booty.

You never stop!

- Always trying to dishonour us! - Calm down, you'll pop a vein!

You're getting old and forgetful. Try to remember.

It's over and done with.

By safekeeping that container we recovered 10 million.

10 million for the people, and we didn't touch a cent.

And if anybody doubts it, he can deal with me!

Me too!

Then we all agree.

As far as I'm concerned, we all agree.

10 million for the people, which means 7 million for the People Hall

and 3 for the park for the children.

Suffer the children to come unto me.

7 plus 3 makes 10 million.

I claim my share.

Don Camillo laid his first stone, too.

But the two work projects still didn't employ all.

Poverty is the Italian heartbreak.

The land was dry and misery vast.

All turned to Peppone for jobs.

Peppone called all the rich land owners and farmers to city hall.

But they hid behind the law

and refused to help.

We need a post office

and 20 km of irrigation canals need digging...

That means work for all!

But the town doesn't have enough money for all that.

So, I've decided...

I will raise the taxes to finance these projects.

You either agree or you deal with all the hungry people yourselves.

Raising taxes so much had a great impact on the farmers.

For old Filotti it added up to huge sum of money.

His refusal slowed down the payment of the other land owners.

If they won't pay, I'll organise a farm hands' strike.

Then we'll see who works your land!

Work stopped on all the farms.

By day three, you could hear the cries of the cows 1 km away.

The strikers stopped anyone from feeding or caring for the cows.

- Where are you going? - I'm going to milk my cows.

- I have the right, don't I? - Don't bother.

The strikers won't let you through.

Are you proud of yourself?

Listen to them. They break your heart, poor beasts.

They must be bursting, after three days of not being milked.

You're not ashamed?

Castaldi's wife doesn't have a drop of milk.

For six months, no work and no food.

They had to put little Francesco in an orphanage.

Others are just as badly off! There's no other way!

If cows must die, then let them die!

You over there!

- Where are you going? - Calm down!

Watch out with that thing!

- You can't go any further. - I must.

Listen to her! She needs me.

She's about to give birth. Without help, she'll die.

She's giving birth. Please let me pass.

Gisella's son told me that all the Gigiotti's grapes rotted.

Brusco told my husband.

Peppone has asked for reinforcement from the city

to back up the strikers.

I've heard they're coming with machine guns!

Oh goodness! They wouldn't let him in!

Mariolino wanted to shoot.

- Shoot who? - Giacomo, Filotti's cowherd.

And the cow who's giving birth will die with all the others!

Their teats are bursting, and nothing in the pails.

- It's too much! - The scoundrels!

- May God punish them! - And bar them from heaven!

Quiet, old fools! It's the fault of the landowners!

That Filotti is selfish and pigheaded.

The likes of him will burn in hell!

Excuse me, Jesus. I lost my temper...

and I know you send no one to hell.

But still, we can't let the cows die. It's awful!

Lord, make sure no one waits for me on the other side.

Who's there?

Answer or I'll shoot.

Watch out or I'll shoot too!

Great! You're mixed up in this too! Just what I needed!

When the cows die there'll be even more unemployed!

It's the curse of the countryside.

In the city, the machines don't need milking.

And when a cow dies, it's dead.

Stay where you are!

One more step and you'll be a sieve.

You're stubborn, but you won't shoot

a poor priest in the back.

- Who's there? - Me, Peppone!

Go check the cows, that'll wake you.

No!

It will become a graveyard!

Come in. They'll see you.

Go on.

I'll take care of the pregnant one.

You give out the hay and water.

- No! - Shush!

No!

They worked like mules.

And when they finished...

they waited for night.

I'm starving! I could eat a bishop!

They're hard to digest.

Here's to you!

- Why aren't they mooing today? - They must be near death.

They must all be dead!

Run to the village

and bring me 50 litres of disinfectant.

They'll be others who die before I give up.

The patience of the down-and-outs won out.

The strike ended.

Back-up from the city came when it was all over.

- It's over! - How is that possible?

Since it was hot, there was only one thing to do.

A priest on the run!

Going to see your mother?

How nice!

What a champion!

I'll ignore them. Besides, they may not be talking about me.

I'll go see.

Don't catch your feet in the wheel!

Look at him!

These young people were rude,

but he beat up 15 of them! Fifteen!

The village can't put up with it.

A steam-rolling priest!

I understand.

It's dangerous for the village.

So I'll switch his parish. It had to happen sooner or later.

Please excuse me.

I'll send you Don Pietro.

- Don Pietro? - The young priest you just met.

He won't bother you.

- That little squirt? - Mr. Mayor!

Not that little bureaucrat!

If I give him a slap, he'll fly a yard.

While Don Camillo doesn't budge a centimetre.

But why would you slap him?

He doesn't even look like a priest!

All dressed, he'd seem like a hanger

with 3 robes and an overcoat.

You don't judge a priest

by his weight and size!

Your Grace, some things are clear...

- at first sight. - What we mean is...

Be quiet.

What we mean is we don't want Don Camillo to go.

Just that you make him stay in his place.

And stay out of politics.

A strong reprimand!

I understand. And I think he deserves it.

Thank you.

So you're no longer throwing just chairs,

but also tables!

- I lost my temper a little. - Yes, I heard.

You must preach love and sweetness,

not throw tables at your neighbours' heads at a fair.

And I know you weren't alone.

You had help and set it all up.

One man alone can't take down 15.

No, I was alone. I swear.

The table fell on them.

It was a bit like that table there.

Like this table?

Pick it up.

- What? - Go on. Pick it up.

- I wouldn't dare. - Show me how strong you are.

Go on. Prove to me your strength.

Go on.

Throw it.

What?

Throw it.

Obviously, Don Camillo, you will never be a Bishop!

Your Grace! Are you hurt?

Quiet please, it's nothing.

It was me.

Don Camillo angered me and I lost my temper.

Don Camillo got his pardon

and the Bishop's promise to bless the new park.

Meanwhile, the People's Hall slowly progressed.

- Looking for something, Father? - No, just passing by.

It's going up rather slow, isn't it?

It's a building, not a balloon.

- My site opens in 3 weeks. - Which site?

- The park! - You haven't even begun the pool!

- You're spying on me! - I'm not spying, I noticed.

The football field is ready to be inaugurated.

- You're inaugurating bit by bit? - Faster than this hot air balloon.

Relax, Mr. Mayor. I won't be doing the ceremony myself.

But I would like to propose

that your team play against mine.

- You want a football match? - Yes. Agreed?

Agreed. You can train Virgin Mary's off-springs.

Are you coming to the procession next Sunday?

For sure! I can't wait!

I'll come with all the Party members. Even the flag!

The flag? Not the flag.

Why not? Do its colours hurt your eyes?

It's a political flag.

This is a religious event, not political.

- No flag, no fans! - You're a tyrant!

Here you go, you tyrant!

Watch out. You'll destroy your house,

instead of building it.

Since he couldn't bring his flag to the procession,

Peppone boycotted it.

All the villagers were warned

not to attend.

They could bomb the procession. We'll have to postpone it.

I know nothing about this.

My goodness!

I think we should go home.

Goodbye, Father.

Time to go home. It's not a day for children.

Let's go.

The river must be lovely on this sunny day.

- I'd love to see it. - Let's go, Lord.

- This cross is heavy. - You're telling me!

I had to carry it to the top and I wasn't build like you.

Get down!

Leave him alone, so Peppone can't say not even a dog showed up.

Hold on, Jesus!

I'm stopping in front of Him, not you.

Then take off your hat.

Let's go, boys.

Jesus, if the few honest homes in this village could float,

I'd ask you to make the river swell and rise

and flood the whole village.

But honest folk live side by side with scoundrels

and it would be wrong to punish them with Peppone and the likes.

I pray you save us from floods

and make us prosper. Amen.

Jesus had to keep an eye on the river,

for at times it raged and caused great havoc.

Look in this hollow at this little chapel.

In a flash, the river covered it and its beadle.

The beadle

was Mrs. Cristina's grandfather, and each anniversary...

When you become a teacher, you'll have to leave home.

Leave even the village.

We'll marry and I'll come with you.

When I'm a teacher? Why don't we wait until I'm grey?

I thought you loved me!

Stop crying, please.

We're always sneaking,

hiding from your brute of a father.

And your grandpa would send you to a convent!

- I'd burn it down! - Oh great!

- That will solve everything! - Mrs. Cristina!

- We're miserable! - You're stupid!

Did you have to pick this convent burner?

And aren't there enough pyromaniacs in your gang?

We didn't choose each other. We fell in love.

A pity stupidity doesn't stop unhappiness.

Help us, Mrs. Cristina!

- Listen to the bell! - What bell?

The flooded steeple bell!

It means bad luck.

You, a future teacher, believe in these sorts of signs!

- I thought you were smarter. - Look who's talking.

Tell him it means bad luck!

It rang one night in 1886 when old Toli drowned.

It rang when Ponte's daughter drowned herself in 1894

and then again in 1912...

Listen!

It's thunder! Do you see clouds on the mountain?

Do you think?

You're a fool, but this time you're right.

What's with your pants?

Is showing your thighs a new political fad?

It's my football uniform.

The match! They'll be waiting for me!

I'll see you tonight, Gina?

Goodbye, Mrs. Cristina.

He's alright.

I'll talk to his father and your grandfather.

If they don't agree I'll rap their knuckles!

It'll serve them right!

What are we waiting for?

- Where have you been? - I...

Wait until after the game!

Attention please!

I have only this to say:

you're playing against reactionary team.

You must win!

If you don't I'll break all your heads! Understood?

Attention please.

Listen to me closely.

I won't threaten you,

but if any of you doesn't give it his all,

I'll grind him to a pulp after the game. Got it?

Listen!

I am completely neutral politically.

I've never been involved in politics.

So you can count on my neutrality.

And please remember this is only a game!

These aren't elections. Let's start!

- Where have you been? - At the farm.

- At the farm? - Yes.

Goal!

By half time, no deaths had occurred in or around the game.

Don Camillo's team had scored twice

and led two against one.

If you don't score in the first 5 minutes,

I'll strangle you with your intestines!

Go Mariolino go!

The game was almost over and the score was tied.

- Lord, you abandoned me! - Should I have helped?

22 legs on one side, 22 on the other.

Besides, I look after souls, not legs.

So you must have seen the refs dark soul

when he gave them a free kick that was ours!

And you let him!

They'll kill me! Help! Help!

Back or I'll knock you out. This is a sacred house.

Go home, you wild animals.

Go home and pray that God forgives your beastliness.

Make the sign of the cross!

Quick!

Between you and this man, there's now the sign of the cross.

Whoever crosses this line commits heresy!

Go on!

Go home!

Now, between you and me. I want to know the truth.

How much did Peppone pay you to cheat?

2 500 lires.

The despicable viper! The low-down traitor!

I was right to lose my temper!

You see he was bought!

Who else offered him 2 000 lires to cheat?

How irritating that you see all.

You corrupted him, so you deserved defeat.

Lord, I accept the punishment,

but for that great team to loose!

They could play internationally.

It breaks one's heart! It calls for revenge!

Camillo!

What you can't understand

is that with sports it's different.

- I don't think you understand. - I understand perfectly.

And your revenge?

We'll beat them 6 to 0!

They won't have time to pass the ball.

Goal!

A few days later,

old Filotti came to Don Camillo with some urgent business.

I need some spiritual guidance. Please sit down.

What did she do?

- Nothing, I... - Shut up!

Answer my question. How long has this been going on?

I don't know... Since the hole appeared in the wall.

- When I was 4 or 5 years old. - The hole in the wall?

- That little hoodlum will pay! - Calm down.

- Which "little hoodlum"? - Mariolino.

That antichrist! That hooligan who ruined my football game!

Your father would roll over in his grave! You with a Red!

I want to marry him!

Stop, Filotti! She's too old to be slapped like that!

Besides, little Mariolino isn't that bad.

Not that bad! A flag waving rabble rouser!

Whose fault is that?

They're poor because you're rich and selfish!

Mrs. Cristina was right! You're a Bolshevik priest!

I won't hear another word!

Get in your room and stay there!

Until you're an old woman!

Two weeks went by

without a word from Gina. Mariolino went to Mrs. Cristina.

But the old woman,

now 85, had fallen and hurt herself.

- Is she better? - No, poor thing.

- She's asked for the priest. - She wants the mayor, too.

The mayor? Peppone? What does she want from him?

I bet you'd be happy to hear all my confessions!

Instead you'll get nothing!

I called you because I want to die

without any regrets.

I have to tell you:

in 1842 your dog with the half tail,

he came in my yard and broke a flower pot.

Well, I forgive you!

And I you for calling me a Bolshevik.

Thank you. Very kind.

But only intention counts and I didn't mean to hurt you.

While you have a pure soul,

you must confess to go to heaven.

But I'm sure I'll go!

Your assumption is a sin! Heaven is certain for no-one.

No one except me,

because tonight Christ came to tell me I would go to heaven.

So I'm sure to go.

Unless you know better than Christ?

Here you are!

I forgive your frogs and the other dirty things you brought to class.

I know you. You're not really so bad.

I'll pray to God that your worst crimes are forgiven.

- I've committed no crimes. - Don't lie.

You and your kind sent the king and his children to a desert island,

- where they starved. - That's not true!

- Tell her it's a lie! - It's a lie.

There was no desert island. No starving. Lies! Lies!

Besides, it wasn't just us.

We voted and he lost.

So we had to send him.

That's democracy.

What democracy? You don't send away a king.

Listen.

You're the mayor, so listen to my will.

I don't own my house nor my furniture.

Give what few clothes I have to the needy.

You keep my books, for you need them the most.

You need to practice your writing

and especially your verbs.

Yes, Madam.

I don't want music at my funeral

because funerals are serious.

And no cars,

just like in civilised times.

I want a flag over my coffin.

Yes, Madam.

My flag.

The one over there

down low against the wall.

My flag, with the badge of the king.

Yes, Madam.

God bless you, my child. Even if you are a Bolshevik.

I had one other thing to do...

Yes, those little ones.

I don't have time. God will take care of them.

Those were her last wishes.

Since this is a republic and a democracy,

we'll ask the majority

their opinion.

As for the reactionaries,

they will be only too happy

to hear the "Royal March" played.

There's absolutely no way we can offend

the memory of 100 000 men who gave their life for the republic.

I object to this burial

with the royal flag.

The time for sentimentalism

and nostalgia is over.

If she wanted the royal flag, she should have died sooner!

The memory of the dead

must be treated with respect.

And yet, if we cover her coffin with that old flag,

she'll become a target

and her memory could be offended.

Therefore, we oppose

the royal flag.

What do you think, Father?

I'm waiting to hear the mayor's opinion.

As mayor, I agree with you.

But in this village the communists, not the mayor, are the boss.

And as communist mayor, I don't care what you think.

Mrs. Cristina will go to the grave with her flag,

because I respect her more dead than I do you alive!

If anyone has an objection, I'll throw him out the window.

- Father, anything to add? - I bow to violence.

Such things will happen here,

where the sun beats down and people reason with blows.

But where at least the dead are respected.

Come in.

Gina?

- What do you want so late? - To be married!

- But it takes two! - We are two!

- What are you doing here? - You see!

He hates all Reds. Let's go!

No, wait!

- What happened to you? - His family beat him.

They saw him waving to me out his window.

Her family beat her too!

They're a bunch of hypocrites!

Your family are Godless criminals. I'd like to tear out your eyes!

I'd like to slap you!

I'll slap both of you!

Everyone wants to slap me. The priest, him, my parents.

Everyone! What have I done to deserve it?

- Calm down. Tell me what you want. - To be married!

Are you crazy? She's a minor. Her parents must know.

You can't marry like this!

But our parents will kill us!

Let me think about this until tomorrow. I'll see what I can do.

You must marry us now.

Wait a few days! No one will die!

That's the point. We will!

Why do you have to marry at 10 PM? I've never seen such urgent love.

Once married we'll leave. We'll take the train and be gone.

- I understand, but I can't! - Aren't you the mayor?

- But your parents must agree. - They'd rather see her dead.

I must review the regulations.

Maybe there's a way.

But I must wait until tomorrow, when I can go to city hall.

For tonight...

you sleep in the truck

and Gina will sleep at my mother's.

Until I'm married, I sleep at home.

We'll get married all the same!

You'll hear the wedding bells. Come Mariolino!

- They're crazy! - You're the crazy one!

Men! You're all the same.

- Didn't you notice? - What?

They're about to do something foolish.

They've already done that. I wouldn't worry.

Didn't you notice how crazy they were? They'll try to drown.

Didn't you understand what she meant about the bells?

The bells? What bells?

Good God! The flooded chapel! The pond!

The fools! The imbeciles! If I find them, I'll...

They'll hear the bells.

- To hell with them. - Quiet!

Never curse before you're about to die.

She'll kill herself, I'm sure!

She wrote in the note: "If we can't be married..."

Poor Gina!

We must find them! Please, do something!

They're at the pond. Quick, ring the alarm!

I'll take the pond, you go to the shore.

- Lord, help her! - If anything happens,

- God will never forgive you! - You could have married them.

- You too! - You only had to say a prayer!

We'll go as far as the tide.

We'll embrace and then let ourselves drown.

Yes.

I'm afraid, Mariolino! The water's so cold!

What's that? Listen!

I don't want to die!

They're looking for us.

Come! They mustn't find us!

Silence!

It's time to bury the past and let these children marry.

If anyone refuses, I'll split his head.

You're not the boss!

We're ending your fight for good.

Here's your chance for one last fight!

Go get the wedding dress. The Bishop will marry them.

- The Bishop? - Does that bother you?

Bolshevik. Go home!

Time to sleep.

- The mayor! What a coincidence! - I have something to tell you.

- They're hiding. - Who?

Your friend Smilzo.

What's he doing? If he's painting on my wall, I'll shoot.

- I don't agree with those methods. - I'm well aware, Mr. Mayor.

You see enemies everywhere! Listen...

Come in. I was just about to do something, you can help.

Getting ready for Christmas?

It always comes fast.

I came to tell you that you have some nerve.

Really? Pass me the brush please.

What do you take me for?

Inaugurating your park the day of Gina's marriage!

What's wrong? The Bishop himself will do the honours.

And two families will be reconciled.

And you'll get all the credit!

For stopping a double suicide and working a sort of miracle!

What about your Hall?

You know it won't be finished for 2 weeks.

- Some gentleman you are! - Gentleman?

Hey, the Virgin Mary doesn't have a moustache!

Look at this little baby.

That's little Peppone!

That's Peppone's wife.

And there's Peppone himself.

And there's Don Camillo!

Why don't you postpone your inauguration two weeks?

That way we get it ready in time to inaugurate together.

Very well. You see? We beasts understand each other.

Finally the big day arrived.

I don't understand. The Bishop is never late.

I hope he's alright.

Have you seen the mayor today?

He's disappeared! I wonder what's happening.

Peppone was trying to beat Don Camillo to the punch.

Leave it, so we can do it quickly!

He'll have to cross the Castellina bridge. It'll take a half hour.

3 minutes to do this and get to the People's Hall.

So we inaugurate before them!

- Look out, here he comes! - Watch out!

Quick! In your places!

Quick! In your places!

Act normal!

- What is it? An accident? - I don't think so.

- Why, it's the mayor! - Your Grace!

It's broken down.

I see. Can I help?

I don't think so.

Thank you.

Well, well...

Thank you, Mr. Mayor.

At my age, your legs betray you.

Good day, my children!

I'm afraid I can't help you.

Too bad. I'll continue on foot.

There's no risk of falling. You're so solid!

Good day!

- There he is! - He's coming?

- He's on foot. - On foot?

Who is he with?

Look out!

What happened, Your Grace?

Don't worry. I just wanted to take a little walk.

The mayor and his friends walked with me.

They're very nice!

Welcome, Your Grace, in this day of happiness.

We give you all our love from the deep of our heart.

Please, Your Grace, take this humble bouquet of flowers

and the love from our heart.

How sweet! How kind! What's your name?

He's my son Marco, Your Grace.

- As lovely as his father! - That's right.

Thank you, Mayor. Now it's time to visit...

Excuse me, but I must leave.

Too bad! Why are you in such a hurry?

I'm inaugurating the People's Hall in 5 minutes. Everyone's waiting.

How wonderful! A People's Hall!

You didn't tell me, Don Camillo.

- Well... - Would you like to see?

- It would be an honour. - With pleasure.

- But Your Grace, the park... - It won't fly away!

- But the wedding! - Those children can wait a little.

Yes, but...

What an impressive building. Very useful.

Too bad you can't see his arms depot.

I'm sure it's not as big as yours!

Don Camillo even aimed at me with a gun once.

I told you he was a dangerous man, but you wanted to keep him.

This way, Your Grace.

Look how big a crowd you have!

How wonderful so many are here!

I'm delighted to have visited this beautiful hall

with all its beneficial and happy uses.

You've very lucky to be taken care of this way.

And now I must go

to visit the new park that so nicely compliments this hall.

Goodbye, my children!

- Goodbye, Your Grace. - Goodbye, Mr. Mayor.

That day the village forgot its quarrels and celebrated.

No more Reds or Blacks, just good folk celebrating.

How are you, Grandpa Filotti?

Fine, fine.

My my!

While the Bishop had a well-earned nap,

Don Camillo...

Look at that!

What?

- What is it? - It's Don Camillo at it again!

Did our Good Lord say

if someone slaps us

to turn the other cheek.

Don Camillo, I think you desperately need

a quiet mountain rest far from here.

The fresh air will be good for you.

You'll miss your train!

- Do you think? - It's an omnibus.

It'll wait a little, but not much.

Just one more minute!

My poor friend, why are you stalling? You know they won't come.

I hoped there'd be a few who had the courage.

Peppone warned everyone not to come.

I know. He said if he saw anyone

come to say goodbye, he'd break all their bones.

But still... I thought perhaps a few...

but not a soul.

People are only human. Even Peter betrayed me.

I'm just a silly wretch.

Time to go.

I'm only sorry I can't bring you.

You know I'm always with you.

Perhaps they're at the station, or on the street,

or at the square.

Till the day you'll be back

may the clear memory of our affection

be with you.

Goodbye, Father!

Have a good trip!

Please, Father. Take this as a token of our good wishes.

Goodbye, Father. Best wishes!

These are Bruciata's pigeons. I trapped them!

- Goodbye, Father! - Thank you, my children.

Peppone's men warned that if we came

they'd pull out our eyes.

So we came here instead.

Goodbye! Come back soon!

- We're going to see the Bishop. - I know you.

My husband thinks I'm at mother's.

Goodbye, Father. Have a good trip!

Before you leave our jurisdiction,

we would like to bring you salutations from the population

and to express our wish that you come back to us soon,

that you relax while away

and come back in fine form!

I couldn't lose face with those reactionaries who hate the church,

- but we're not beasts! - You act like thugs!

And you who knock people out!

I regret I didn't finish you off!

They'll be another chance!

This little Don Pietro...

I'll take care of him. He won't last long.

Here, take this.

My son Marco drew it.

Very talented!

Too bad about his father.

May God watch over him!

May God watch over you!

May He make you nicer, if that's not impossible.

That would take a miracle!

That is the village somewhere in Italy

in the valley of the Po.

Each struggles for a better world in his own way.

And things happen here that happen nowhere else.